Indebted to the Mafia King
Why?

Eleni

Mama doesn't like the news I've fallen in love with Dante, judging by the lecture that follows. Still, I sit politely and listen to every word, smiling at the sheer joy of having a mother to scold me again. After that, we talk over police procedurals, her favorite show and how to watch them, for a few hours, catching up on everything we haven't had time for in our last few calls.

Gianna shows up because I forgot we made lunch plans, and unlike Dante, Mama took to her instantly. Before an hour passes, she has Gianna in the kitchen with her hair pulled back, walking her through the steps of properly seasoning lamb for gyros. I sit at the kitchen island, correcting Gianna's technique when Mama isn't fast enough. She smacks my hand away when I try to steal a bite of pita, and for a moment, I think I know what it was like to be Christos when we were kids. She means the smack, but so much affection sparkles in her gaze that I know I have nothing to worry about. My heart squeezes. I should tell her about him.

Gianna tries to add basil to the lamb, and the moment passes. Mama and I smack her hand in unison.

Eventually, Gianna leaves for work-an explanation of which makes Mama press her hand primly over her mouth-and Mama and I drop back down onto the couch. Jet lag makes her fade fast, so I convince her to order an early dinner instead of cooking, and before the sun even sets, I have to rouse her from sleep in front of the TV.

"Mama," I say.

"Hm?"

I shake her shoulder gently. "You're going to hurt your neck."

"You worry too much, zouzoui." She swats my hand away. "You should see what Adriani had me sleep on. Pah."

"Then you deserve a nice bed." I kiss her cheek. "Please?"

Her eyes flutter open sullenly. "The same one as last time? It was nice and firm."

I bite my lip. "That one...actually got moved to a different room."

She sits up, sensing something she won't like. "Why?"

"For my office," I say truthfully.

"And where do you sleep now?" She eyes me critically.

"In another bedroom at the end of the hall?" I smile and hope she lets it go.

"Ah! I received the warnings about which doors not to open as well." She covers her mouth. "Zouzouni, you are sleeping in his bed?"

"He moved out for a little," I grumble.

That sets Mama off on a whole new string of questions, and I barely get her upstairs before she starts lecturing me on safe sex. Denying that we're sleeping together any way other than literally doesn't seem to get me anywhere, so I start promising we're being safe instead. This brings on a third tizzy. She is still lecturing me through the door as she changes into her pajamas.

"Yes," I mumble. "I understand."

She opens the door abruptly and meets my gaze. Tears fill her eyes. "I love you. Please take care of yourself."

I smile and hug her. "I am, Mama. You'll see."

"Tell him he ought to marry you," she says severely, even as her eyelids droop.

"I will."

That, finally, calms her, and she shuts the door to go to sleep. I putter around the house, picking at schoolwork, cleaning up the remains of dinner. The time Dante usually gets home passes. I text him. Nothing. I text a few capos. A few variations of "busy day, let the boss tell you." I roll my eyes and dick around on my laptop instead. For my own amusement, I code a crappy Staten Island Saints website that will never see the light of day.

The front door opens, and I hop up.

"El?" Dante calls tiredly.

I race to the foyer. His tie already hangs loose, his hair is mussed, and dark bags underline his eyes. No injuries, at least.

"Long day?" I bounce on my toes, trying to figure out how to balance his exhaustion with my excitement.

"Long day." He pulls off his tie and starts trudging upstairs.

I bound after him. "I got my surprise."

He smiles at me tiredly. "Yeah? How did you like it?"

"Like it?" I skip ahead of him to the landing, unable to stay still. "I love it. I love her. I love you!"

"Careful," he says. "Your surprise might hear you."

"She's already passed out from jet lag." I smile as he reaches me. "And I already told her."

He chuckles. "How did she take the news?"

"Better than I hoped." I grab his hand and struggle not to drag him down the hall. "Only two lectures!"

"That's nearly a recommendation," Dante says.

We traipse into the room in companionable silence.

"Why did you do this?" I ask.

He sits down on the bed, cups my face, and drags a thumb over my cheek. "Because I know you missed her. She can stay for longer than a visit, if you like. I've been thinking of installing a pool house out back for a while now, and her living here would be a great kick in the ass."

I turn my face and press a kiss to his palm. My heart is so full it feels like it might explode. "That's very sweet, but it's not what I'm asking."

He frowns as he pulls off his jacket and tosses it on the bed. "No? Then what?"

"I mean...." I look around. "Why all of this? Me living here? Tandon? Mama? She thinks I ought to tell you to marry me, with all you're doing for us."

Dante looks up at me with something warm brimming in his dark eyes. "Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm doing all this because I intend to marry you one of these days."

Mostly, when Dante and I fall into bed together, it's because one of us says something incendiary. I'm used to him lighting me ablaze with want or anger or petty drive to beat him. This confession only makes me warm. But it's a steady warmth, one that reminds me of the fireplace of a well-loved house or a campfire in the dark. Something I could follow home.

I straddle Dante's lap and kiss him.