openly share with the rest of the world,” Dante said, sighing. “When I was a little over two-years-old and my mother was pregnant for Giovanni, my father took our family on a trip to Italy. Business for my father, as he wouldn’t take a vacation otherwise. The rules weren’t as strict at the time about ensuring people had the proper vaccinations before traveling. My mother didn’t believe in vaccinations, which was her choice and one she regretted when there was an outbreak of rubella in the villages we were touring.
“I didn’t have my vaccine and was immediately high risk because of my age, but it was too late,” Dante explained, trying to remain unaffected as he told the story. It wasn’t often he did tell it because despite how he tried to move past it, he couldn’t.
“Because they were trying to control the outbreak and the medical facilities where they quarantined the sick were rudimental at best, it became a wait and see situation. My mother, being pregnant, was forced to stay away for the safety of her pregnancy. Rubella can cause termination and even severe disabilities or deformities. My father remained with me. I got better, we came home. That’s it.”
“That can’t be it.”
“It is,” Dante said, lifting a shoulder as if to explain away what was unsaid. “It’s rare for a man to become infertile from rubella, but it happens. Especially when the outbreak is allowed to roam throughout with no treatment to prevent it from infecting the southern region of the body. When my parents got back to the States, they were informed of what might be my possible prospects. When I was old enough, I had testing done and was found to be sterile in the thick of puberty. And again in my early twenties, I got the same results.”
Catrina frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve known for a long time children wouldn’t be a part of my future. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that’s not something I would ask from you. Ever.”
“And you have no desire for love,” Catrina said.
“No. As I said, why bring a woman into a life where she will have little but me, and I don’t have a great deal to give her back. I’m perfectly fine like this.”
Dante pushed his chair away from the desk, spinning it around so his back faced Catrina. Usually he wouldn’t turn his back to a woman, especially one like Catrina Danzi, but she wanted something from him, which meant she wasn’t liable to hurt him.
The metal, fireproof safe rested on a large stand behind his desk. Dante spun the dial after typing in a ten digit code on the electronic pad. The quiet click of tumblers falling into place sounded before the door popped open. He grabbed a small jewelry box on the top shelf, closing his safe when he was done.
Turning back to face Catrina who hadn’t moved an inch from her spot, Dante placed the jewelry box to the very edge of the front of his desk. She didn’t make a move to touch the box and see what was within.
“Are you Catholic?” Dante asked.
“I am.”
“In good standing?”
“With the church, but God is an entirely different situation.”
Dante let her dark humor soak into him again, laughing loudly.
“For curiosity’s sake, how did you weed your way into my streets as easily as you did?” Dante asked, folding his arms over his chest as he rested back in his chair. “Seems to me a Queen Pin of your caliber wouldn’t be slumming in on the streets to push product. I don’t know how you had the smarts to get that kind of thing done.”
“Simple, your main men aren’t there nearly enough, certainly not as hands-on as they should be. That’s not to say they’re not good at their jobs, because clearly they are if they’re still turning a profit, but they’re missing people like me slipping in. Their soldiers—or yours, if you prefer—might have a little too much free rein on certain things.”
“Thank you,” Dante said. “I’d like for you to tell that to my men at
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