“What’s good is seeing you like this,” I reply. “Been a long time since I saw you happy.”
“Yeah, well, without mentioning her name, she’s the one responsible for the man I am.”
“You can mention her name,” I grunt.
Blackie laughs.
Fuck.
He laughed.
My little girl is the woman responsible for bringing that laugh back to the world.
“I’m heading home,” he declares, rising from his seat. “Lacey’s waiting for me.”
Yeah, that shit is going to take some getting used to.
A whole motherfucking lifetime.
Chapter Ten
I was fifteen years old when I realized I was born to love Anthony Bianci. He was twenty years old and at the crossroads of his life—stuck between the streets and the man he was at heart. He didn’t have a father figure growing up and thought that to be a man he had to follow in the footsteps of the men in the neighborhood—men like my father. Anthony knew the consequences of the mob; knew he’d break his mother’s heart when he dropped out of school to become my father’s lackey—fulfilling what he thought was his destiny. It didn’t matter how pure his heart was, he was jaded by the empty promises my father bestowed upon him. A young man desperate for the mob boss’ approval.
Back in the day, Anthony’s quest for the mob was the only thing that mattered to him. Power, money and respect were the things he craved most in the world. They were his forbidden temptation—until I came along and our love then became the forbidden temptation.
I knew our love was everything before it was something.
He did too.
That’s why he fought against it for as long as he did. Realizing there was no use fighting—when loving was worth more than any order sent down the chain of the mob—Anthony gave in to love. He gave me his love, took mine in return and promised me the world. He promised me the good life.
Our love was bigger than the mob—it would withstand the most trying circumstances and prevail each time someone tried to destroy us. Most of the time it was us doing the damage, but when it wasn’t us ripping one another’s hearts out, it was my father trying to destroy us.
I never made Anthony chose me over the mob, it was something he did of his own accord. He chose our family over the only life he’s ever known, and as much as I love him for it, I also understand the struggle behind his decision.
Men like my father, like my husband, are often pulled from the streets but those streets, the lifestyle, it will always be one with the man. My husband wakes up every morning and goes to work like every other blue-collar guy. He owns a gym and when he’s not training himself he’s taking the time to teach underprivileged kids how to box, hoping they’ll never be one with the streets.
Because Anthony knows firsthand that once you’re a street guy—that doesn’t end. It doesn’t matter how good life is, or how much he loves his family, the streets will always be ingrained in his soul.
As much as Anthony wants to think he’s out of the mob, a part of him always will be stuck. It’s the reason he is the first to help Jack Parrish and his club. It’s the reason he goes to visit my dad without me.
Like today.
Today he went up to visit my father, only he never came home afterward. He didn’t call like he usually does when he’s on his way back, and when I tried calling him he didn’t answer. Knowing something must have transpired, I asked my sister and Mike to watch my kids and took off for the gym.
The gym was locked, most of the lights were off but peering through the glass door I spot him. I stare at him momentarily, watch as he pummels the heavy bag in the dimly lit corner of the gym. Boxing was something he picked up in prison and mastered, making it look like an art form. He’s light on his feet, moving them expertly as he dances around the bag. Grabbing my keys, I unlock the gym and continue to stare at him. I watch the cords of every sinewy muscle in his back flex as he throws jab after jab. It ignites a fire within me. I try to focus on the reason I came here but my body is out of control, like a frayed live wire.
I grab the pads from behind the counter and fit them snuggly to my hands before making my way toward him. Anthony is a man who always makes sure he’s aware of his surroundings, a force of habit for someone who has spent most of his life looking over his shoulder. Yet, he didn’t know I was there watching him, completely in the zone which confirmed he was off.
Stepping around the bag, I make my presence known as he goes for a right cross. His blue eyes peer up at me and his face glistens with a fresh sheen of sweat as he reaches for the chain used to suspend the bag and stops it from swinging toward me.
“Let’s go, Bianci,” I urge, holding my hands up as I step to the side.
He takes a deep breath, pinning his eyes to mine as he contemplates my offer, giving a slight shake of the head.
The leather makes a slapping noise as I smack the pads together, holding them up to him again.