Page 27 of Power & Punishment

I shoot him a hard look. “I took care of it. I’ll let you know when I need an overpriced lawyer that spends all his money on hair gel and gauche watches.”

My trusty sidekick snickers behind me, earning him a death glare from my brother. “Whatever, asshole. Don’t come crawling to me when you end up on Page Six.”

“Relax, Fratello,” I say, grabbing his shoulder. “Adrian took care of it. He has a connection with the commissioner, and I’m no longer a suspect.”

Not legally, at least. Mia still wants my head on a platter, but that will be hard to do from underneath my thumb.

Gio frowns, tiny wrinkles crawling up his forehead. “I know your hands aren’t exactly clean, but be careful with that Adrian guy. I don’t like him.”

My brother is more than aware of my partnership with the Caruso’s. He’s dabbled in the dark underbelly of the city a few times himself, but it doesn’t stop him from turning on the older brother protector mode.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” Adrian is harmless and his connections come in handy from time to time.

Gio stares at me, weighing whether to keep giving me useless advice. And then he makes the right decision and steps aside, letting us pass into the dining room.

“Leo,” my mom calls the second she spots me, already jumping out of her chair. “You look tired.”

“I’m not,” I argue.

She ignores my argument and pulls me in for a hug. I don’t hug back right away, but I eventually give in and rest my chin on top of her head.

“You’re working too much,” she sighs, pulling her head back and pinching my cheek. “It must be bad when your own mother has to confirm plans with your secretary. No wonder you don’t have time to find me a daughter-in-law.”

I groan, rolling my head to the side. “Look, Mom. I brought Michael.”

She narrows her two hazel eyes at me, seeing right through my plan, but takes the bait anyway. “Michael!” she exclaims, pulling him in for an awkward hug. He always tries to squirm away, but she’s strong for an older woman. Eventually, he gives up and lets his arms flop to the side.

“Cecil, let the poor boys sit down so we can eat,” my dad says from the far end of the table. “Hello, son. Michael, good to see you again.”

I give him a thankful smile and take my place beside Maribella. Michael sits down next to me, quickly reaching for the wine bottle in the middle of the table. I look at him and tap my glass too.

The rest of dinner moves easily after that. Gio and Maribella argue over some ridiculous conspiracy theory, and my mom piles food onto my plate like it’s her job. My dad politely asks me about work and includes Michael where he can.

At some point, I find myself doing what I do on most nights like these. I just sit back and listen. I take in every warm and solid feeling because it wasn’t always like this.

I don’t remember much from before the fire. I was barely ten at the time. But I do remember my birth mother’s blood-curdling scream and how the cold sank into my back as I watched from across the road.

I remember the day my dad brought me home. It was so hard to adjust to this place, and there were days when I’d never felt more alone. But now, I can’t imagine any other place feeling like home.

I have so much to be thankful for, and yet there’s still a piece of me missing inside. One I intend to get back.

“You’re quiet,” Maribella says, glancing over at me. “That means you’re plotting.”

I shrug, lifting my wine glass and taking a slow sip. “I’m enjoying the peace.”

She quirks a brow. “You don’t do peace. You thrive on chaos.”

She’s right.

Peace has always felt temporary to me. Even though I landed in a good home with a good family, I’d always remember the feeling of that heat on the back of my neck taunting me. Fragile things turn to ash when you get too comfortable.

But tonight, I let myself enjoy it. Maybe even wish for it someday when everything settles.

“Peace is boring and unpredictable,” I answer, leaning back in my chair. “Chaos. Now that I can control.”

“I think you have that backward,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her own wine before inserting herself back into a conversation between Gio and our mom.

I smile to myself because it makes sense to me. Chaos makes sense. It gives me something to control. Something to burn before it burns me first.