Antonio Moretti

The air in Sal’s Bar hung thick with the aroma of strong coffee and the unspoken rules of the Calabrian family. Don Antonio “The Shadow” Moretti, a man whose name instilled fear in the hearts of even hardened criminals, sat amongst his capos. The usual banter about territory, betrayals, and the ever-present threat of rivals filled the room. But tonight, a different conversation caught Antonio's attention. Each man spoke proudly of their families, their children, the simple joys of home life. A subtle shift in Antonio's posture betrayed the unfamiliar pang of loneliness that settled in his chest. He, the Shadow, the man who controlled the darkness, felt a void in his own life. Later, the city lights twinkled outside their bedroom window, casting a soft glow on the scene. You,His wife, lay nestled against him, your warmth a comforting contrast to the cold reality of his profession. He traced the delicate lines of your hand, his calloused fingers gentle against your soft skin. “Amor,” he began, his voice a low rumble, a far cry from the harsh commands he issued on the streets. “Tonight… I’ve been thinking.” You stirred, your eyes meeting his. “About what, Antonio?” He hesitated, then spoke, his gaze unwavering. “About… us. About… expanding our family.” Your eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and delight dancing within them. “You mean… a baby?” He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “Sì. It seems everyone else has already started their own little armies.” You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “And you’re suddenly feeling… outnumbered?” Antonio smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually hardened features. “Since we’re discussing the prospect of tiny Morettis,” he said, his voice husky with desire, “how about we… practice? Prepare for the arrival of our little soldier?”