Toxic Love: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance
Toxic Love: Chapter 30

Gabriel’s living room is silent. No background music. No conversation. Just the occasional cleared throat and the distant sounds of Pam cooking in the kitchen down the hall.

To say that this dinner with Tempest, her brothers, Charles, and Maeve is going to be frosty is the understatement of the fucking millennium.

Charles isn’t even here, not that I really expected him to come. But that’s fine. The main reason for this dinner was, yes, to be Vito’s ambassador and to make sure Charles doesn’t do business anymore with Massimo Carveli or Luciano Amato. But I had other motives as well.

I don’t know if the Cold War between Alistair and Gabriel and me will ever end. But if it could be put on hold for a while, that would be nice. Tempest’s brothers matter to her, a lot. They’re her entire family.

I know there’s a way to put this animosity to bed. But I just can’t go there, because of a promise made to a friend to whom I owe my life.

I fucked up, didn’t I, Dante? Fuck, Alistair and Gabriel are going to be so fucking angry. And Tempest? What will she think of me?

I’ll take Layla’s secret to my grave. But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to put a Band-aid on my relationship with Tempest’s brothers.

Even if it’s only temporary.

Originally, I’d invited the Black family out to my Hampton’s home for dinner. When that got a flat “no”, I changed the venue to my penthouse in the city. Gabriel eventually agreed on the condition that he host—as if, what, I’ve got secret ninjas waiting to jump out of my goddamn ceiling to assassinate my in-laws?

But whatever. In any case, here we all are at Gabriel’s house.

Gabriel and Alistair stand on one side of the room, occasionally shooting me a dark look. On the other side of the room, Tempest talks quietly with Maeve, who I guess has managed to get away from Charles for the evening.

Suddenly, the door to the living room opens, and Pam steps in with an awkward look on her face.

“Mr. Black, sir,” she smiles weakly. “Uh, Mr. Black is here.”

This should be interesting.

Charles strides in with a deep scowl on his face, which only gets darker when his gaze lands on Maeve.

“You left the house without saying goodbye, sweetheart,” he rumbles quietly.

Maeve stiffens as she slips behind Tempest.

“If you had,” the older man mutters, eyeing her sharply before clearing his throat, “I would have given you a ride.” He exhales as he turns to level a cold look at his grandsons. “Well? What’s for dinner?”

Alistair and Gabriel glance at each other before walking over to Charles and me. Tempest shoots me a look before pulling Maeve out of the room and into the adjoining dining room.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Alistair growls at his grandfather.

Charles ignores him as he turns to arch a brow at me. “I know why you called for this absurd dinner, Dante.”

I smile icily. “And why is that, Charles?”

“Because Vito wants to work together again.”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

My smile drops. “On if you’re still working with Massimo and Luciano.”

Charles scowls before he can stop himself. I smirk.

“Honeymoon over already?”

He shoots me a look. “Luciano is all over the place. And your cousin…”

“Distant cousin,” I mutter.

Charles frowns. “Whatever he is to you, he’s a fucking sociopath, and I don’t trust him not to shoot me in the back of the goddamn head, much less to respect my business interests.”

I lift a shoulder. “Well, in that case, Vito might be interested in⁠—”

“Not so fast,” Gabriel growls, stepping between Charles and I and glaring at his grandfather. “Maeve’s eighteen now. Which makes her legally an adult.”

Charles frowns. “Where are you going with⁠—”

“She’s going to be living here now. Not with you.”

The room is quiet for a second before Charles begins to laugh. “Is that a fact?”

Gabriel doesn’t bat an eye. “It is. I’m done pretending I don’t see the abject fear in her eyes whenever you’re in the same room as her. And to say that you and your gold digger wife are a bad influence on her is a gross understatement. It ends now. Maeve moves here to finish high school. After that, she’s welcome to continue living here if she goes to school in New York. If not, she can live wherever she chooses.”

Rage clouds Charles’ eyes.

“That is not happening⁠—”

“You might still have a seat at the Crown and Black boardroom table…” Alistair hisses.

“A large seat!” Charles snaps.

“But don’t think for a second we don’t know that your empire is burning at the edges,” Alistair continues. “You’re not a young man anymore, Charles. You’ve lost friends and alliances. Burned bridges.”

Oh, goody. I’m not the only one who’s been paying attention.

“So you want to hitch your boat to Vito Barone because your little kingdom is in trouble? Fine,” Gabriel mutters. He shoots me a very meaningful, heavy look, before turning back to his grandfather. “But if you want to do that, Maeve moves in here.”

And here I thought dinner might get boring.

Charles barks a laugh, turning to me. “Tell Vito I’ll be in touch for the two of us to⁠—”

“Their condition applies,” I say, turning to nod my chin at Tempest’s brothers. “Or there is no deal with Vito.”

Charles stares at me, a vein in his temple pulsing. “Excuse me?!”

“I’m sure you heard me. Maeve moves in here, or else there’s no deal.”

Charles sputters and fumes. “You don’t have the authority to speak for Vito⁠—”

“Today, I do.”

The living room is pin drop silent for a second. Charles glares at me, then his grandsons.

“Fine,” he finally snaps. “Fine.”

After he strides away, I glance at Gabriel and Alistair. None of us says anything for a moment, but Gabriel nods slightly with his chin.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to send you both thank you notes for your generous wedding gifts.”

Alistair rolls his eyes. “Eat shit, Dante. I didn’t get you anything. Neither of us did.”

I smile. “Well, I’m sure we could head down to that famous Black family wine cellar and find something to remedy⁠—”

“What the fuck is all of this, Dante?” Alistair breaks in. “I mean fucking seriously, what the hell is this dinner you were so desperate for all about? You wanted us to watch you play diplomat and conduct mafia fucking business in our father’s house? Are you shitting me?”

I exhale slowly. “This isn’t about me.”

It’s about Tempest. And I hate that I can’t tell them why this is so important to her. That I want to give her at least some semblance of a family with their differences and their clashing pasts put to rest.

“Look, we’re family now⁠—”

Gabriel glares at me and Alistair laughs coldly. “Don’t remind me.”

“And it would mean a lot to your sister if the three of us put the weapons down⁠—”

“Don’t talk about Tempest as if you fucking know her,” Alistair snarls.

“She’s my wife, Alistair.”

“Careful, Dante,” he snarls, his teeth bared. “There’s already enough evidence with one of my sisters that I could put you in a hole in the ground. Touch the other one and I’ll⁠—”

“Speaking of evidence,” I barrel on, “and despite the fact that I did not receive a wedding present from either you, I’d like to gift both of you something. C’mon, ask me what it is.”

Silence.

“What,” Gabriel finally spits. “What is it, Dante?”

“Well…” I turn to smile at Alistair. “The DiBella case you’re working on?”

It’s a fairly high-profile case. Jimmy DiBella, one of the best hitmen for the Impastato family, a tributary family to the Marchettis, is on trial for, well, being a hitman.

“I have a golden bullet that shreds your star witness’ testimony.”

Alistair’s jaw clenches as he gives me a hard look. “Fuck off, Dante.”

“That’d be a brutal case to lose. It’d destroy that near perfect record of yours. And I can’t imagine Cesare Marchetti would be jumping to put you in charge of more of his billable legal needs if Jimmy goes to prison with you as his defender.”

They glance at each other as I bite back a smug smile. They know I’m right.

“What sort of a golden bullet?” Alistair mutters.

“Here.” I hand him a thumb drive. “That star witness had an ongoing secret affair with DiBella two years ago.”

He tries to hide it, but there’s not stopping the way Alistair’s jaw clenches at the news.

“Neither of them has ever admitted it, obviously, given that it’s the mafia and they’re both so far in the closet they can’t even find the door. But your witness went apeshit on DiBella when Jimmy tried to end things. Trashed his apartment, torched his clothes, smashed up his car. Real psycho shit. DiBella didn’t report it, or him, because, well…” I shrug. “The gay thing, not to mention that mafia hitmen tend to prefer not to call the cops for anything.”

Alistair stares at me. “There’s proof of this?”

I nod at the thumb drive in his hand. “It’s all on there. And for you, Gabriel, since we don’t want you feeling left out…”

I pass him a second thumb drive.

“That drama with the prostitute the media briefly stirred up a year ago, concerning Governor Atkins?”

His shoulders tighten. “Why would I give a shit about Governor Atkins?”

“Dunno,” I smile. “But I’m sure the political consulting firm you’ve had three meetings with might give a little bit of a shit about it.”

Gabriel stiffens. So does Alistair, who turns and glares at him.

“We were going to talk about that,” he hisses.

“It’s nothing,” Gabriel murmurs back.

“Anyhoo, those weren’t just rumors.” I nod my chin at the second thumb drive. “And I think your consulting firm would love to dig into it.”

They both drop their gazes to the thumb drives, then raise their eyes back to me suspiciously.

“Why are you doing this?” Alistair growls.

“Because we might not like each other, and I know that’s putting things mildly. But I’m Tempest’s husband, and you’re her brothers. We don’t have to be best friends, but can we at least put the fucking guns down? For her?”

They’re silent for a second, then Gabriel sighs heavily. “Fuck it. Fine.”

“Like you said,” Alistair grunts. “We don’t have to be best friends.” He holds up the thumb drive. “But if this is what you say it is, then… Thank you.”

“Guys?” Tempest pokes her head in. “Dinner’s ready.”

We all step into the dining room, and Gabriel turns to Pam as she sets a tray of food down on the table. “Pam, could you please grab a bottle of the ’95 Chateau Margaux? I can open it up here.”

“Right away, Mr. Black.”

I smirk, glancing at him. “My my, Gabriel. That’s an eight-thousand-dollar bottle of wine.”

“Yeah, well, happy wedding, you prick.”

Again, we’re not going to be best friends. But weirdly, the dark cloud over all of this does begin to lift slightly.

…I mean, sipping a glass of obscenely expensive wine doesn’t exactly hurt, either.

I can’t help but smile when I hear the high-pitched squeal from the other room when Tempest tells Maeve she’ll be moving into Gabriel’s house. Even Charles seems fine now that he’s calmed down.

Pam brings out dinner—perfectly done pork chops with a peach glaze—and we all tuck in. It’s no Norman Rockwell scene. It’s not all bubbly laughter and witty conversation. But it’s not deathly silence and dark looks, either.

I suppose that’s what they call “a good start”.

Tempest is chatting away with Maeve, but she turns to flash a quick smile at me.

Thank you, she mouths.

I just nod, because if I let myself dwell any deeper on any thoughts about “the time we have left”, I’ll go insane.

“So then Tempest…” Gabriel chuckles mid-story. “She completely ignores what dad said, and when he’s not looking, she takes this whole fucking chocolate cake. Remember, there are like thirty people coming over for her ninth birthday any second. But she takes that fucking cake upstairs⁠—”

Gabriel stops short. His face is pale and growing paler.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding his stomach.

He lurches to his feet and awkwardly stumbles to the side, away from the table. Tempest jumps to her feet next to me.

“Gabriel?”

He shakes his head, one hand clawing at the wall next to him. “I’m—I’m fine…”

His face turns ashen before he suddenly twists away and starts to vomit against the wall.

Shit.

Gabriel drops to his knees, still throwing up as Alistair and I run over to him at the same time.

“I’ve got this,” Alistair grunts at me, turning back to his brother. “Hey, bro, let’s get you to⁠—”

Alistair’s eyes roll back. He suddenly groans and slumps to the ground, just in time to puke all over the floor.

Oh fuck.

I’m aware of Charles dropping to his knees too as I make a beeline for Tempest.

It’s the food. Something’s in the⁠—

But Tempest and Maeve aren’t turning gray. They’re not throwing up or falling to the floor. They’re just gaping in horror as everyone collapses around them.

“Tempest—”

My legs give out, sending me sprawling to the ground in front of her.

“I—”

My vision blurs.

“Call 911…”

She’s screaming my name as I start to vomit. Then my world goes black.