Luca

"Yes?" I barked into the receiver of my desk phone. I already knew who was on the other end.

"Uh, Mr. Catalano, your 11 o'clock is here." Olivia's scratchy, high-pitched voice came through the other line. It was the kind of tone someone had when their nose was plugged. So damn annoying.

I shoved a hand through my hair in frustration. "Olivia, is the intercom system broken?"

I knew full well it wasn't. I spent nearly an hour yesterday explaining to her how to use it so she could stop calling me every fucking time she had a question. Apparently, the lesson didn't sunk in.

This was all Carlo's fault. I put him in charge of hiring an assistant and what he came up with was Olivia. I knew exactly why--Olivia was a leggy blonde who lived every day like it was a beauty pageant, exactly Carlo's type. She wasn't mine, but I had to admit she was easy on the eyes. Problem was, she was dumber than a brick wall. She'd been here three weeks, and the intercom system was the least of our worries. And with the expansion of our business, I didn't need eye candy, I needed someone who could do their God damn job.

"I don't think it's broken, Mr. Catalano..." She squeaked, confused.

"Forget it." Dumber than a brick wall. "Send Claire in."

A few minutes later there was a quick knock on the door and then it swung open.

"Luca," Claire greeted with a warm smile. "Wonderful to see you."

She was here from the Globe, interviewing me for a feature story that Angelo swore would be good for our image. That was the only reason I agreed to this dog and pony show.

The last few years were rough on us with Antonio being arrested, forcing our operations underground and me into the Don roll almost immediately.

Catalonia Enterprises was a multifaceted organization born from our need to put on a more wholesome front. We denied all involvement with Antonio and had to prove to the general public that we weren't criminals like he was. We had to convince them we were honest business men with no connections to the Italian Mafia.

So far, it was going well. So well in fact, that our business nearly doubled in the first month. We started bringing in more cash than we ever could have anticipated, and now we had our toes in just about every category of business you could ever imagine. Real Estate, stocks, technical assistance. Hell, we even had guys in hospitals. Our cover businesses provided us with never-ending avenues for moving product.

Claire was here today to interview me about our recent successes and tomorrow her team would be by to conduct a photoshoot for a spread they would run with the article. Only after I agreed to be interviewed had she sprung the photoshoot on me.

"It's nice to see you too Claire. Please come in." I stood, welcoming her into my office with a fake grin plastered on my face. I promised Angelo I would play nice since he reminded me that as soon as I gave her what she wanted, she would be out of my hair.

"What a beautiful view you've got here!" She marveled at the floor to ceiling windows behind me with wonder on her face.

"We lucked out." I admitted. "This building came open the very day we started looking for office space and we were able to snatch it up right away. It's as far out as the city will let skyscrapers expand so the view will always be unobstructed." I boasted, walking towards her with my hands in my pockets.

It was a beautiful day, and when you were up this high, you could see for miles.

"I wouldn't get anything done if I worked here." She shot me a flirty smile. Claire was a pleasant looking woman, but definitely not my type. She had fiery red hair and matching green eyes. A pair of thick hipster glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. She was young--probably only twenty-five or so. Tall, with less curves than my liking. But her damning factor was that she had a good head on her shoulders. Since Charlotte left, I preferred hookers with no morals who didn't give shit if I remembered their name when they left, as long as I paid them. I wouldn't make the mistake of getting attached again.

"Why don't you have a seat and we can get started? I have a lunch meeting I have to attend, unfortunately." I feigned sympathy.

"Yes, of course!" She said excitedly, grabbing a pad of paper and a pencil from her overflowing bag. I rolled my eyes discreetly as she dropped a few things out of it onto the ground.

Claire rushed to pick them up and flopped herself down into the chair across from my desk.

"So." She sighed heavily, completely out of breath. Seems I flustered the girl.

"So." I repeated, waiting for some kind of question to fall from her lips.

"Um, I've got a few general questions, but I normally like for these things to just flow as they will. Talk about whatever you would like to."

"Great." I said flatly. And what if I didn't want to talk about much of anything?

"Tell me how all of this came to be." She smiled, finally settling into the leather recliner.

"Well," I leaned back in my chair trying to pinpoint where I wanted to begin all of this. The less details I gave her, the less time she'd spend in my office but I knew that wasn't the point of all of this. "My advisory committee, Angelo, Carlo, Marco, Seth and Gabe, we all grew up together. We always talked about going into business, but our lives took us in another direction." A much more illegal direction. "When the opportunity to start Catalonia Enterprises arose, we couldn't turn it down."

"What was Antonio Vitale's connection to you and your friends?" She asked, frantically scribbling down notes on her pad.

I cringed. Angelo grilled me for hours about what I could and could not say in this interview and the one topic I was to avoid at all costs was Antonio.

"Antonio has no connection to us anymore." I said plainly. "He was a friend of my father's and we brought him on in the beginning to oversee a few warehouses. He used that opportunity to grow his involvement in the Italian mafia. We alerted the police the moment we knew what was going on." I could recite this story in my sleep now that I'd to repeated it so many times. To police, reporters, to other Mafia families. Everyone had to know the story we were telling the police so there were no screw ups.

The real story was much more complicated than that. I had been completely blind-sided when Grant showed up at the Estate to arrest Antonio. Things got sloppy in the months after Charlotte left, and we left too many loose ends. Some of our guns ended up being used in a gang war and landed us right in the middle of an investigation, plus they opened up several old cases trying to pin them on us as well.

When Grant announced that Antonio took responsibility for that drop, plus admitted his personal involvement with other illegal activities, I could hardly even speak. In doing so, he completely exonerated us and left us free to continue on with Grant and the Feds off our backs. I visited him several times in prison, and each time I begged him to tell me why he did it, but he never would.

"He was the father of two of your friends, correct?" She looked down at her note pad. "Gabriel and Seth?"

I clenched my jaw, ignoring her question. Luckily, Claire took the hint that this was a subject I didn't want to talk about anymore and steered us into another direction.

"What is it like working with your best friends every day?"

I smiled, rubbing my chin. "It's fucking awesome. It takes a lot of work to make this organization run, but we certainly make time for fun." Our fun just includes more illegal activities than most.

"You guys seem to work in several different fields, which one is your favorite?"

"I am partial to the art studio we run. It helps keep underprivileged kids off the streets at night while their parents are still working, gives them something positive to throw their energy into."

This was my little pet project. The gallery closed down when Jenni and Charlotte left, and the space went on the market. I bought it immediately, not sure at first what I was going to do with it. I just hated the thought of something else going in there. It was a small piece of Charlotte I could hold on to. Secretly, I did it hoping it would impress her and make her come back, that she would hear about it from someone and be so proud of me she'd decide to overlook everything that happened between us. It hadn't worked that way though. In fact, I had no idea if she even knew about it.

"You're originally from Italy, right?"

"I am." I nodded. "My mother still lives there."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope." I shook my head. "It's always just been my parents and I."

"You lost your father several years ago, do you think that experience influenced you at all?"

I let out a heavy breath. "Of course, it did. I owe everything I am to my father. He instilled integrity and a good work ethic in me early on. Before I was even out of diapers." I scoffed. Another rehearsed answer.

"So, you two had a good relationship?" She inquired, biting on the end of her pencil.

"You could say that." I nodded cautiously. This was a topic Angelo hadn't prepared me for. "My father was a strong man, I respected him and looked up to him more than any other person in the world. He was hard on me growing up but he knew what he was doing. He formed me into the person I am today." That sounded better than my father was a monster who beat the shit out of my mother and I.

"Do you plan to have that philosophy with your own children some day?" She gave me that flirty smile again.

"No." I said pointedly. "I don't plan to have children."

Charlotte

"Excuse me, excuse me." Jenni whispered harshly as she fought her way through the row of people to the center where I had saved us two seats. I rolled my eyes, laughing as I watched her bumping into people and spilling drinks all over the place. She swore to Layla she wasn't going to be late for this, and here she was barreling into the theater with no more than ten seconds to spare.

"Hi." She smiled, finally reaching me and settling herself into the empty seat beside me. "Did I miss anything?"

"No, you're just in time. She's about to go on." I smiled, pointing to the side of the stage where my three-year-old was standing with the rest of her dance class. Her hair tied up in the perfect little ballet bun and tiny pudgy legs peeked out from under an oversized tutu. She was so damn cute. My little ballerina.

She waved wildly the second she saw Jenni, and Jenni waved right back. They had such a special bond with each other.

"And now, our Twinkling Tots class will close our recital with their dance." One of the instructors announced proudly from the center of the stage. The lights dimmed and Layla's class tip toed their way out onto the stage.

The music began to play and all of the little girls in her group raised their arms. The instructor stood to the side trying to remind them of the moves, but this was like herding cats. It took a special person to try to teach sixteen three-year-old's how to dance--ballet no less--and as far as I was concerned, Miss Connie was a saint.

The girls moved in relatively the same way across the stage as the music played, each of them doing their best to remember the steps. Most of the stumbled and flopped around, while others stood completely still gazing out into the audience paralyzed with stage fright.

My child, however, was dancing to her own beat--literally. The song was classical, but Layla moved around the stage like she was at a rock concert. Tiny wisps began to escape her bun and before I knew it, a mess of tangled curls pooled around her shoulders. She ran from side to side throwing in dance moves that I'd never in my life seen before. Where did she even learn this stuff?

I covered my mouth, stifling a little laugh.

"She's your child, alright." Jenni elbowed me with a wide grin.

We both watched in amazement, trying to suppress our laughter as Layla continued to perform, completely in her element.

It continued for a few more minutes and finally, the lights came on and the host welcomed all the dancers back on stage. They took their bows and then all disappeared back stage again.

"I think she may be better suited for gymnastics." I joked as we walked out to the lobby where her teacher would bring her.

"Or track." Jenni offered. "I think she ran more than she danced. At least she'll sleep well..."

"Mommy! Auntie Jen!" Layla came barreling towards us, dodging other families. Her curls flowing behind her and her jacket nearly falling off her shoulders.

"Hi baby!" I smiled, bending down and scooping her up into my arms. She planted a big, wet kiss right on my cheek.

"Did you see me? Wasn't I amazing?" She cooed, holding my cheeks in her tiny little hands. I know most moms say this, but she truly was the most precious, loving little girl in the entire world.

"You certainly were!" Jenni smiled, tickling her sides and sending her squirming in my arms. Jenni handed her a tiny bouquet of flowers that she had brought for her.

"You were the most beautiful swan princess I have ever seen!" I encouraged, peppering her with kisses.

Jenni and I took her out for ice cream to celebrate, and by the time we got home, she was so exhausted that I had to carry her to her room, slipping those tiny ballet slippers off and tucking her into bed.

"Goodnight, momma." She whispered, snuggling deeper under the covers.

"Goodnight, baby." I pressed a kiss to her forehead and reached for the door. I glanced back one more time at her.

She looked so much like Luca sometimes that it physically hurt. Her soft lips pursed in the same way, and her eyebrows hunched together in a small scowl. I had memorized the way he slept, and now our daughter was developing the same mannerisms.

On nights like tonight, when I was by myself with my own thoughts, I had fleeting, second thoughts about leaving Luca. I imagined the kind of life I would have now, the house we would live in, the way he would spoil Layla, the feeling of his protective embrace as we drifted off to sleep.

In my heart, I knew I did the right thing.  Layla was safe, and we were happy, and Luca was able to continue doing what he loved without fear of the repercussions. I knew it was for the best. But  sometimes, I wished that it didn't have to be this way.