Chapter 129

“Seriously, Cristian?” the Don says, glaring at his son from across his desk, leaning back in his chair even though his whole body is tense. “You married the fucking stripper?”

“Everyone is aware, yes?” Christian says, his eyes hard on his father, “that she’s also a student, and that dancing was her part-time job? And that I’ve known, respected, and loved her since childhood?”

“God, your fucking mother,” Romano growls, shaking his head and glaring down at the floor. “Fucked you up more than we ever knew. Got you all wrapped up in fantasies about the little blonde next door, when you should be married to –“

“Iris is a wonderful woman,” Christian snaps, leaning forward in his chair and slapping his hand down on the desk.

“She is not for you,” Romano barks back, instant, his eyes snapping up to meet his son’s.

“It’s done,” Christian hisses, sliding his hand back across the wood and leaning back in his chair, crossing his ankle casually over his knee.

“By a priest?” Romano barks after a long pause. “Before God? Not just some fucking…courthouse bullshit?”

Christian slowly nods, holding his father’s gaze, knowing what that question means. While his family is deeply embroiled in the violent criminal world, a vow made before God? It still means something.

Romano looks around the room at Tony, Nico, and Frankie, who he knows were all there. They all look evenly back at him, their silence confirming what Christian says.

Romano hisses his frustration between his teeth, still glaring at his third son – his best and most impressive child. “What a waste,” he whispers, shaking his head. But then he takes a deep breath, looking away and waving a hand to dismiss it.

Christian’s hand curls into a fist, pulsing twice, the only sign of celebration at his victory. But it’s flat against the arm of the chair again when his father looks back at him.

“So, that’s why you disobeyed me?” Romano asks, narrowing his eyes. “Why you went to take the girl back from Bonetti? You caused me a great deal of trouble, boy.”

“It is,” Christian confirms with a steady nod. “She’s my wife, dad. And even if we weren’t married yet when you gave her to that scum,” his voice is rough as he says the words, like he can’t even stand the idea of Iris in Bonetti’s hands, of him hurting her. He swallows hard, mastering himself. “It was always going to happen. Iris and I…”

Christian clenches his jaw, not knowing precisely how to say it. It is, after all, not precisely a family that encouraged him to express his emotions growing up.

“A love match, I get it,” Romano says, again waving his hand and dismissing the need for further explanation. “A stupid thing to give into,” he continues, raising his eyebrow at his son, “but…not unheard of. So, what.” He narrows his eyes. “You want an apology from me?”

“Would I get it?” Christian snaps, his own eyebrow going up.

Romano barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s call it even, kid. After all, you didn’t bother to inform me that the pretty little stripper girl you let tend my bar was my future daughter-in-law. Obviously…things would have been different.”

But the way he tilts his head, clearly considering the case…Christian wonders if that’s true. Or if Romano simply would have found another way to use Iris against him.

Christian clenches his fist, determined to never, ever let that happen.

“Even, then,” Christian says, his voice cool.

Silence reigns in the room for a long moment before Romano’s chair creeks as he leans far back in it.

“So, what,” he barks out, laughing sarcastically, lifting up his hands. “That’s it? We’re all just gonna play…happy family with the stripper daughter-in-law? Is that what tonight is about?”

“Partially,” Christian says, his voice remaining even, not letting his father’s significant physical presence or loud voice stir his emotions. He spent years getting used to it, after all. “But you and I, I think, need to come to…an understanding.”

Romano leans forward, studying his son, his silence a clear invitation to continue.

“You’re aware of my ambitions, dad,” Christian says, speaking fast, his voice a little bored as he looks towards the door like he’s ready to move on from it all. “When you were sick, I made my intentions clear. I want a place in this world – and I was ready to step into your shoes when you were on death’s doorstep. But…”

Christian’s eyes snap back to his father’s now, and both men smirk at each other.

“But,” his father says, continuing the thought for his son. “I’ve made it quite clear that I’m not going fucking anywhere.”

“How’d you do it, dad,” Christian replies, a little playful, smirking at his father. “Deal with the devil? Sell your soul for twenty more years of good health?”

“Don’t you wish you knew.”

“Either way,” Christian slowly shakes his head from side to side like it’s untenable. “I’m not just going to sit in the stable, my potential rotting away as I grow old. I need room to run.”

“What are you asking me, Cristian,” his father growls, eager now. “No more metaphors. Spit it out.”

“I want your blessing,” Christian replies, leaning forward and holding his father’s gaze. “When I go out. Start a new enterprise.”

His father laughs, sitting back hard in his chair, his voice resounding in the room even as its mocking tone makes it clear that he doesn’t find an ounce of Christian’s ideas funny.

“Why the fuck would I let you do that, Crisitan,” he says after a long moment. “Let you just take half my business? What the hell would I get out of that?”

“You’ll let me go, dad,” Christian replies, his voice perfectly calm. “Because I’m doing it with your blessing or without. And if I go without, then you’ll have a war on two fronts – because I’m well aware that the Marino bullshit isn’t cleared up yet. Is that what you want?”

Romano huffs a laugh. “I’m not afraid of you, Cristian. You don’t have any resources.”

Christian just quirks a brow at his father, begging him to reconsider that point. A complete bluff but…well. He’s always had a great poker face.

Romano narrows his eyes, studying his son, wondering what ace he has up his sleeve. His next movement is fast, almost too quick for someone his age and his size as he leans far across the desk. “I’ll promote you in the family,” Romano murmurs, his counter offer showing his cards. Christian works hard to fight his smile as Romano lists the perks he’d provide – increased pay, property, an official place within the family as the second-in-command.

But despite it all, Christian just shakes his head. “There’s no place for me here, dad,” he says quietly. “The boys can vouch for it,” he continues, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Nico and Frankie. “The way your wife and your daughter-in-law treated Iris tonight? It’s quite clear that they’re not willing to make a place in this family for her.”

Romano scowls, glaring hard at the door, clearly pissed. “The women will learn their place. They’ll welcome your little bride.”

Christian smirks, huffing a single laugh. “And have her spend her life with all of you making snide stripper jokes under your breath whenever she leaves the room?” he shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We need our own enterprise – we’re doing it. It’s done. I came here tonight looking for your blessing, dad, not your permission. And if you give it…” Christian shrugs, turning his hands up. “There could be…benefits. For you as well.”

“Benefits?” Romano asks, tilting his head to the side. “Well, why didn’t you start there? What are you offering?”

“What is it that you want?”

Romano smirks, not willing to play that game.

So Christian sighs and takes a folded piece of paper from his pocket and places it on the desk, slowly sliding it across to his father.

Slowly, Romano unfolds it, his eyes moving quickly over the numbers, the estimations that Christian offers to pay him monthly, quarterly, and annually for his patronage. His brows raise, pleased, but he refolds the paper and puts it back down on the desk.

“What else?” he asks, greedy, always wanting more.

“Name your price, dad,” Christian snaps back, pretending to lose his temper. Even though this – his father telling him what he desires – is precisely what he wanted this whole time.

A slow smile curls on Romano’s mouth and he leans forward, quietly naming the true price of Christian’s freedom.