Page 74 of Cartel Devil

“You couldn’t find a nice Italian boy, could you? Not even an Irish one.”

“I am my mother’s daughter. Dad’s always said that.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you had a bit more sense than I did. I was twenty-three when I met Dad. You’re supposed to have a decade’s more wisdom than I did.”

“We were coming to tell you we’re together. We weren’t eloping.”

I give my mom a pointed look since my parents ran off to Copenhagen to get married. The Danish city was far enough that no one could intercept them and is the European version of Vegas for quick, no-fuss weddings. They practically caused an international incident when neither family could find their missing member, then realized my parents were together.

“Together?”

Joaquin doesn’t squeeze my hand, but he increases the pressure. It reassures me that I can survive this conversation. It’s practice for when the rest of them show up.

“I know we aren’t doing things in the order we’re supposed to, but⁠—”

“Trish, I know what syndicate parents drill into our kids. We do it for your safety. You’ll tell your children the same things. But you are an adult. There’s no supposed to. You do what’s right for you when it comes to having a family.”

“Okay. I know we aren’t who you want to see together.”

“Trish.”

There’s exasperation in my mom’s tone, and I’m starting to feel the way she sounds.

“Yeah?”

“It’s not Joaquin specifically. You understand this complicates things, but you’re hardly the first couple that blends rival syndicates. Your generation makes what Dad and I did look as wild as a kid’s carnival ride. Mob-connected sisters marrying into the Cartel and the bratva. A Mafia daughter from Italy marrying into the Cartel. An Italian Mafia connected woman from Germany marrying into the Cartel. You’re hardly the first couple to complicate things. Hell, Elle’s like a sister, and she was married to a senior Boston Mafia capo before marrying el jefe de jefes.”

Mom twists to look at Joaquin again before she continues.

“It was unlikely Trish could or would marry a man from outside our world. As much as it terrifies me, across all the syndicates everywhere, I believe to my core that you’re the only one who’s the right match for my daughter.”

That makes Joaquin’s eyebrows shoot straight up. Pretty sure my expression matches his. My mom says a lot of shocking things, but that takes the cake.

“Thank you, Kathleen.”

“You’re welcome. Frank may not want to admit it, but he already knows this. We agreed when we found out about the reception. We just didn’t anticipate a baby coming so soon. Tommaso isn’t so receptive, so don’t be surprised when he tries to hang you by your huevos.”

Eggs.

The Spanish term for a guy’s testicles makes so much more sense than balls or nuts. They’re fragile like eggs. You bust eggs not balls. Though you can crack nuts.

Your mind is wandering.

You’re avoiding what Mom’s telling you because you don’t want to deal with Uncle Tommaso.

He’s the last person I want to see right now. He’ll want answers I don’t have.

“Trish?”

I look up to find my father peeking into my little area. When he sees it’s okay for me to have visitors, he rushes forward.

“Dad!”

He engulfs me in a hug that’s only marginally looser than Mom’s, and that’s only because he’s extra aware of his size and strength. I cling to him just like I did Mom, but I pull away sooner. I feel stronger than I did when Mom arrived.

“Gioia mia.”

My joy. He’s called me that my entire life. I love hearing it as much as I do mo chuisle. It makes the world feel less scary. But only Joaquin’s chiquita and chica make me feel like I can face the world after what happened today.