Sniping Her Mafia King

It takes a village

Arwen pulled up to the library and sat sideways on the bike scrolling her text messages as she waited for Deidre to come out of her workplace. She fought the smirk as she noted a text message from Addy asking if she preferred French or Italian food.

She messaged back, “is this a test?”

“Yes. Choose carefully.” He punctuated his text with a skull and crossbones emoji

“Depends. If I go to an Italian restaurant, they can’t compare to the food in my freezer from Fabiana, so I don’t even bother ordering anything she’s made me before.”

“That’s fair. Shall we go for French Friday night when I’m back?”

She pursed her lips, chewing the back of her bottom lip thoughtfully. Against every single ounce of self-preservation in her brain telling her she needed to run fast in the opposite direction of where he was, she found herself foolishly flirting with him as she texted back, “I’m always up for a feast but I’d prefer to feast on Italian.” She held her breath as she waited for him to respond and watched the ellipsis on the screen for what felt like an eternity.

“I can give you more Italian to feast on than you ever dreamed possible.”

She shivered as she imagined his voice smooth as velvet whispering those exact words in her ear. She tapped the phone to her chin and then responded, “you sure? I have a giant appetite. Some would say insatiable. Multiple courses might be necessary.”

“I will make sure there is enough to keep you feeding for hours.”

“What about dessert?”

“I could offer gelato but from my experience it tends to melt much too quickly around heat, and I’m convinced we’ll be burning the place down.”

“Chocolate is good melted.”

“I can ensure chocolate is readily available for melting.”

“Sounds like we have a menu planned then.”

“Delicious”

Arwen considered the man was delicious. She heard the footsteps leading in her direction and she sent a text she would see him Friday and then smiled at her cousin. “All set?” she held out a helmet for Deidre. “I have a surprise if you don’t mind.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to go cuddle a newborn baby.”

Deidre made a face through the open shield of her helmet. “Why?”

Arwen threw her head back and laughed. “Yeah, you’re right it’s weird. Jesse told me Portia is struggling a bit since Dylan was away all last week and is back to work already this week. I promised Jesse I’d check in on her tonight since he’s working a double. I told Portia I would stop in with food and a gift for the baby.” She pointed to the carry bags on the side of the bike. “I already picked everything up.”

Deidre looked unimpressed. “You could take me home first.”

“I could but it means I’m driving forty minutes in one direction then turning back to drive an hour in another. It’s not like you to not want to help someone else.”

“I’m sure she has nannies and maids to help her.” Deidre said snottily.

“I’m going to forget what you just said” Arwen said furiously wondering where the kind-hearted young woman she’d raised had disappeared to. ‘Get on the bike.”

Deidre rolled her eyes and slammed the visor down and got on the bike with a grunt. She wrapped her arms around Arwen’s belly squeezing tightly as Arwen gunned the engine and peeled away from the curb. They wove in and out of traffic and cars, making their way the twenty-minute drive to Dylan’s house. It was nothing fancy. A semi-detached two-bedroom brick row house. As Arwen pulled the bike alongside the car parked in the drive, she realized she’d never brought Deidre to Dylan’s home. As her cousin got off the bike, Arwen could almost hear the wheels spinning.

“They live here?” she asked quietly.

“What were you expecting?”

“A mansion?”

“Well, Dylan’s a police officer. Portia’s just starting out as a fashion vlogger, and she just had a baby, so her income isn’t much.”

“Doesn’t she have a trust fund?”

“Not one Dylan wants to touch,” Arwen shrugged. “Italians are proud people.”

She pulled the food and gift bag out of the saddlebag and then motioned for Deidre to precede her. She knocked once and the door was pulled open by a large man who looked enraged. Arwen lifted an eyebrow in his direction, “Erik, are you okay?”

“She’s regressed back to being an asshole. Tell me I can take a walk around the block, and you got this?”

“I got this. Go on.” She waved him out of the house.

“You’re going to replace a bodyguard?” Deidre asked as the giant man shoved past them. “Also, how do you know him?”

“Erik? He’s one of Cam’s guys. Because Dylan’s spawn is the grandson of Cam Torres, they’re worried about kidnapping attempts and the compromise to moving back into Cam’s house full time was having a guard stationed with Portia twenty-four seven. She’s pissed off about it.”

“I would be too.” Deidre said quietly. “You’re saying she never gets to be alone?”

“Nope.” Arwen watched as Deidre’s face scrunched up.

“Do you think it’s weird he didn’t even flinch when he saw my face? He looked right at me.”

“No,” Arwen grunted but didn’t elaborate while hanging her coat up on a hook in the hall and followed the clanging of slamming pots and pans. Erik worked with men with as many scars if not more than her cousin. “Portia, what are you doing?”

“Stupid Erik told me I couldn’t sit in the yard because apparently, it’s too risky,” she flashed a furious gaze at Arwen, “and he wanted to watch the game on the television and couldn’t come outside. I’m so f*****g sick of this!”

“Hey,” Arwen reached out and took a knife from the woman’s trembling fingers. Portia was a wreck. Her hair was in a lopsided ponytail, she was wearing flannel pyjamas which were wrinkled and hanging off her frame and the baby was attached to her chest in some kind of carrier that was tied around her waist. Under her eyes were blue and bruised looking and her bottom lip appeared chapped and dry. “Look at me Portia. You’re okay. Do you need to take five?”

Portia started sobbing, “why does everyone think I can’t do this?”

Arwen wrapped her arms around her, “nobody thinks you can’t do this. You’re amazing. Have you never heard the saying ‘it takes a village’? Do you think all women just come home, have a baby and do it all by themselves?”

“Yes!” Portia argued.

“And they probably cry like you’re doing now,” Deidre spoke up suddenly.

Portia looked up at her, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even say hello. Hi Deidre. I’m such a mess I’m forgetting basic manners.”

Arwen rubbed her back sympathetically, “you’re not a mess, Portia. You had a baby and got married all in one week, while I might add your husband had to fly to Sicily for four days right in the middle of it.”

“But women do this by themselves all the time,” she whined.

“Yeah, on the internet, not in real life,” Deidre quipped and moved to the kitchen and put a kettle on and dug through the cupboards for tea. She found a box of tea for nursing mothers, “you want this?”

Portia nodded, “it’s supposed to help with milk production.”

“What were you doing with the knives and the pot?” Arwen asked with a smile as she pushed her into a chair at the dining room table.

“I thought about trying to make dinner.” She looked up embarrassed, “I forgot you were coming with food.”

“Baby brain,” Arwen grinned. “My receptionist had a baby last year and it’s a real thing.”

“I feel like my mind and my body isn’t mine,” Portia admitted her blue eyes watering.

“They’re not,” Deidre commented as she started plating the souvlaki, rice and Greek salad Arwen had picked up onto three plates. “The child in your arms is a vampire draining you of your life blood, energy, and thoughts. You need food, a shower and sleep.” Deidre put a plate of food in front of her. “Start with food. Then we’ll sit with the baby while you go take a long hot shower.”

“Is he fed?” At Portia’s nod, Arwen was digging through bags on the counter, “pass me the baby and while he’s sleeping, pump some milk off. Dylan can feed him one of his feedings when he gets home so you can get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

“But he worked all day. He worked a double.”

“So did you and he got to work with adults. Kids are harder. He can do a feeding to let you sleep. He won’t die,” Deidre grunted and flopped down in a seat opposite Portia. She watched as the woman uncurled the sleeping baby from her chest. “He’s cute.”

“Thanks,” Portia kissed his sleepy brow as he did a little stretch and curl all at the same time. “He looks like Dylan. All grumpy and tired.”

Arwen took the baby from her and put the pump on the table. “We’re all women. We don’t care. Erik is gone for a walk.”

“He let you watch me?” Portia made a face. “I went to the bathroom earlier and Erik checked the shower to make sure there wasn’t a murderer in there like Psycho. Dad would have a fit to know he left.”

“Cam can kiss my ass and I’ll tell him myself. You need time to breathe without a neanderthal following you in your own house. If they want to station a guard here, they can sit outside.” Arwen grabbed a skewer and pulled a chunk of lamb off and dropped it in Portia’s open mouth as the younger woman adjusted her breast pump under a blanket.

“Can you tell them? Isabella and Jesse both tried, and they may as well have been talking to the wall.”

“How long before the new place is done?”

“A month.”

“No,” Arwen pulled her phone out and called Jesse. “Hey, I’m at Portia’s. Can you try to pull strings and get a crew into your old place please. She can’t live like this for an entire other month. They have Erik inside the house. She can’t even go pee without him asking where she is going. Can’t we get a crew or two to get it done in a few days?” She listened to Jesse and then cut her off, “then use your position and call-in favors for your sister-in-law. She’s going to lose her goddamned mind. Also, tell your brother he’s being a selfish t**t pulling a double. I don’t care who called in sick, his wife and kid come first, and she needs his ass home.”

She hung up and looked at Portia. “Portia, start taking the help. You’re human not superhuman. Nobody can do it all. Dylan took the double because you said it was okay. Stop lying to your husband.”

“But- “

“Arwen’s right,” Deidre said over a mouthful of rice. “When we first moved to New York I was only seven or eight and Fabiana and Carolina were there all the time helping us. When Arwen had to work, Jesse and Cat picked me up from school. Even Clara Draxton would take me to the women’s shelter and keep me occupied in her office. Arwen was a single mom to me, and though I wasn’t a newborn,” Deidre grinned, “I was as needy as one.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was in an accident and lost part of her leg and had burns on a lot of her body. We spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals while she had surgeries and skin grafts and there were days it was overwhelming. I cried a lot,” Arwen admitted as she put a steaming cup of tea in front of Portia and took the baby out of her hands, inhaling the scent of him. “You bathed him today, but not yourself.”

“Have you ever been in a plane, Portia?” Deidre asked her.

Arwen knew where she was going with her question. This was something Arwen preached in her clinic all the time. She was glad Deidre was behaving more like herself and Arwen knew it was because she felt needed.

“Yes. I used to fly all the time.”

“When the flight attendant goes over the safety stuff and they tell you to put your mask on before putting it on anyone else, do you know why?”

Portia shrugged and frowned. Her eyes confused at Deidre’s questions.

“Because you can’t help someone else,” she waved her fork between the woman and the baby, “if you’re dead.”

“Fabiana once told me the best way to be a good mom is to have a full belly.” Arwen chuckled. “She said if you don’t have fuel in the tank, then the engine won’t go.”

“Eat,” Deidre motioned to Portia who was swirling the rice on her plate.

Portia giggled, “you’re bossy.”

“I get it from my cousin,” she grinned at Arwen.

“How come you’re so smart?” Portia asked Deidre.

“I’m not really. I spent a lot of time in my life being sick and in and out of hospitals. I know what it feels like to feel desperate and a burden to other people. It took me a long time to accept I wasn’t a burden because when a person loves you, they love all of you, even when you need them.” She smiled at Arwen, “and even if you’re being a bitch.”

Portia giggled, “I can’t imagine you being a bitch.”

“She’s the worst,” Arwen teased and laughed when Deidre gave her a dirty look.

Deidre made a face, “honestly Portia, I didn’t want to come tonight. I thought you were a spoiled rich brat who probably had nannies and maids. I couldn’t understand why we were bringing you food. I thought for sure you had five-star food at your disposal.”

Portia smiled widely at the comment, “are you kidding me? You’re not far off. I’ve never lived on my own in my life and until I moved in here, I’ve never had to do a thing for myself. I had to get my dad’s housekeeper to teach me to make tea and soup. I met Dylan and I was sure he’d run for the hills because I’m so high maintenance. This,” she waved around her, “is my attempt to be a grown-up and I’m failing miserably.”

Deidre giggled, “you’re keeping another human alive. I’d say you’re doing fine.”

Portia laughed as she adjusted the breast pump underneath a receiving blanket. “Keeping him alive is the easy part. Not killing everyone else is the hard part.” She made a face, “Dylan this morning called me to ask if it was okay to work a double. I felt guilty saying no and so I said yes. Like why he even considered the request is beyond me?”

“I’d have punched him through the phone,” Deidre quipped as she shoveled the rest of her rice into her mouth. “Guys are dumb.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Portia asked Deidre.

Arwen considered this was as good for Deidre as it was Portia, to have normal conversation with a woman her own age.

Deidre made a face, “no. There’s a guy I like who keeps coming to the campus library, but he doesn’t know I exist.” She waved at her face, “hard to get a guy to even make eye contact when all they see are my burn scars.”

Portia nodded, “is it because you won’t make eye contact because of the scars, or they won’t look at you or both?”

“Both,” Deidre sighed looking away. “He avoids looking at me because of my face and I avoid looking at the disgust on his.”

“If he has disgust on his face, he’s not the one,” Portia said seriously. “I knew this girl at boarding school in London and she had bad acne.” At Deidre’s facial expression Portia shrugged, “I get it’s different from the scars you have but when you’re surrounded by rich bitchy girls, having pockmarked skin with deep wounds you won’t even go to the shower without a full face of make-up on is a problem. Anyway, she had a crush on this guy, and they hooked up. In the morning, he made a bunch of comments about her face. She did the walk of shame back to our dorms and she was crying and really upset.”

“I’d be pissed,” Deidre said quietly.

“Yeah, but on the way back to the dorm one of the other guys was heading to breakfast and he saw her and made her tell him what happened and asked why she was crying.” Portia reached behind her for her phone. She scrolled through it and then passed a photo to Deidre, “this is them now. It’s been three years they’ve been together.”

“She’s not wearing any make-up in this,” Deidre said. “Her scarring is really bad, isn’t it?”

Arwen leaned sideways to look at the photo. “She’s really pretty.”

“She is. We reconnected recently. She wants to get into dermatology. She was super smart in school.” Portia flicked a photo and showed it to Deidre, “this is her in full coverage make-up. You’d never know she had the deep scars on her face.”

“How does she make it so seamless?” Deidre made a face.

“If you want, I could ask her if she would do a video call with you. She could probably tell you what products she uses.” Portia shrugged, “or you could be like Clara Draxton and embrace the scars on your face. Either way, you have amazing eyes and a great smile and if the dumbass in the library can’t focus on those things instead of a patch of skin which demonstrates the strength you possess to survive all the s**t you’ve been through then it’s his loss. He can go f**k himself.”

Arwen chuckled at Portia’s bluntness.

Portia shrugged, “been around Isabella too much.”

Deidre laughed at the comment. “I get that. I live with Arwen. It’s hard to feel like a vulnerable woman when you’re surrounded by strong women who kick ass at everything they do. It’s hard to live up to.”

“Then don’t.” Portia said as she screwed the top on the bottle she’d pumped and looked at Deidre directly. “My dad always tells me I don’t have to compare to anyone but me. If I can be a bit better today than I was yesterday, then it’s all that matters.”

“Torres said that?” Arwen grunted. “Sounds fishy. I bet his mother said it to him first.”

“Probably,” Portia grinned at Arwen, “or Gideon. He’s surprisingly deep for a meathead. Though if I’m honest, it was right around the time I asked him to kill Isabella so maybe he was reading parenting books.”

Deidre blinked, “what? You asked him to kill Isabella?”

“Yeah, it’s how they got together actually.” Portia looked sheepish. “There’s a very real reason they call me the asshole. I was dating her ex and he was playing me for a fool, and I lapped it up. I asked Dad to off her. Dad went to tell her, and the rest is history.”

“You asked your dad to have Isabella killed because she was your boyfriend’s ex?”

“Again, they called me the asshole for a reason.” Portia sighed dramatically. “Not my greatest moment.”

Deidre stood from the table. “You are not what I though you were.”

“And you are not the quiet wallflower I thought you were,” Portia said. “If you don’t mind being around an asshole mother of a newborn, you and I should hang out more.”

“I’d like that,” Deidre said seriously.

Arwen stood up and sniffed the baby, “he’s not smelling as clean as he was. I’ll take him up and get him changed. Portia, we can clean up down here. Why don’t you go take your shower and relax a bit? I’ll take care of him until you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” Portia hesitated.

“Remember when Arwen said it takes a village? We’re the village,” Deidre said with a grin, “not the best village but it’s the one you get.”

As Arwen made her way up the stairs to change the baby, she listened to the two young women chatting casually in the kitchen, she felt glad she’d insisted they come. It was doing both women a world of good to interact with each other. She herself had barely said a word during the time they’d been in the kitchen and let them learn about each other. She knew they both had trauma and pain in their past which would allow them to bond in a way others wouldn’t understand. As she entered the nursery, she smiled to herself at her plotting. Who said assassins didn’t have hearts?