Page 46 of Cartel Devil

I could claim it must be the first signs of pregnancy hormones. The drive to protect what’s mine. But let’s be real.

This is who I am.

I’m a Mafia daughter.

“Tío, Tía, we’re going to take off.”

Enrique’s brow furrows, but Elle nods. Her husband looks at her, and silent communication passes between them. Elle shifts her gaze to me and cocks an eyebrow. She’s asking permission. I grit my teeth. As el jefe, he should know there’s even a possibility. Not just because Joaquin is Enrique’s nephew, but because Joaquin’s whatever the Cartel equivalent is of a senior capo. But I’m not ready for anyone to know there’s a possibility. If it’s nothing, then I don’t want it to become a thing needlessly. If I am pregnant, I want our parents to know first.

“Call me if you need me, Trish.”

That only makes Enrique more suspicious. It’s Joaquin who comes to my rescue.

“I’ll explain later. Now isn’t the time, Tío. Please let it be me who does.”

Enrique’s gaze darts from his nephew to me. If his gaze could be in two places at once, it would be locked on my eyes while dipping down to my belly. Life has made him far too perceptive. He says nothing, and his expression remains relaxed. Maybe he’s hiding his thoughts, but I sense no disapproval.

“Tricia, I’m glad you came today. I look forward to seeing you often. Elle and I are hosting Sunday dinner. I hope you’ll be there.”

I freeze, looking up at Joaquin in panic. His expression darkens, and his fear is practically palpable. I swallow before answering, not looking at Enrique or Elle—though I’m tempted to look at her.

“I’m supposed to go over to Gabriele and Sinead’s for the Mancinellis’ Sunday dinner. I’ll cancel, but I don’t know what to say.”

Joaquin grimaces. “You won’t have to say anything. Carmine’s likely already tattled to his entire family.”

My eyes widen. I’d hoped Sera would’ve kept her husband from saying anything to his family. But if Carmine told Salvatore or Massimo—the don and consigliere—then my father already knows. His silence isn’t ignorance. It’s the calm before the storm.

“Do you really think he told anyone? Sera doesn’t keep anything from him, but she wouldn’t confirm it.”

“Tre, no one at that dinner table misunderstood what’s between us. Carmine was giving me sh—a hard time while you, Sera, and Toria were in the kitchen.”

I like how he won’t swear in front of his aunt and me. I appreciate the deference to us and his uncle. I like it during sex, and I wouldn’t care if it were in front of our generation. But his respect for his family reminds me why there’s no one better for me than Joaquin.

How the fuck do you know that after one night talking, one awkward as fuck dinner, a shitty quasi-date, a rescue from a bar fight, and having sex twice?

More like having sex half a dozen times.

Because I just do.

I knew Carmine was giving him shit because my friends and I walked in just as the men were going back and forth about Joaquin’s and Carmine’s balls. I remember Carmine said Joaquin had blue balls, and he implied Sera had Carmine’s.

“Tre, we’re prepared for it.”

It.

The fallout.

I’d almost forgotten about my parents and the disaster awaiting us.

Joaquin hugs Enrique while I hug Elle, then we switch. Hugging Enrique isn’t like hugging my dad or even my uncles. But it’s not awkward. It’s reassuring. We say our goodbyes before joining Luciana, who’s standing with Javier and Madeline. Jorge and Anneliese are talking to a couple and Pablo and Florencia. Catalina and Matías are with Margherita, Pablo’s mother. They’re talking to two other couples. I know Pablo’s dad, Luis, is traveling right now.

Luciana, Javier, and Madeline pause their conversation, and the rest of the family has a sixth sense. They turn toward us. The “outsiders”—nonfamily men and women—fade away. They intuit this is a family-only conversation.

Luciana’s grinning at her son. She looks like she’s barely more than twenty when she smiles like this. There’s mischief in her gaze.

“Ya era hora.”

Era ora. About time.