Chapter 20
Dante
As I pull through the compound gates, I fight to simmer my still-rocketing pulse. During the commute, I try to untangle my thoughts, which were a mess from my confrontation with Edoardo before my bad display of sportsmanship with Lucia and Camille at the diner doubled them.
It’s a woeful waste of time.
I didn’t mean to go into the diner so arrogantly, but my mind was reeling.
Lucia is married.
If that isn’t bad enough, she’s matrimonially tied to a shitkicker of the Cosa Nostra.
Your position on the ladder doesn’t matter. Just being on a rung introduces rules that can’t be ignored. They’re the rules I’m trying to alter, but my goal was to have them changed by the time Camille was of age. Now the timeline is extremely rigid.
I don’t handle stress well, especially when most scenarios point to me disappointing my daughter.
As I enter my family home, I hear shouting coming from the study. When I walk in, four pairs of recognizable eyes lock on me. Giovanni is behind the desk, Matteo paces back and forth, and Nico and Elio lean against the only solid wall with their arms crossed, bracing for impact.
I don’t pretend I don’t know what’s lit a match under their asses.
“A twenty percent stake in Caruso Holdings isn’t unreasonable.”
Matteo ceases pacing, and Nico and Elio lift a brow, but Giovanni’s expression doesn’t alter at all.
He isn’t called the silent assassin for no reason.
Edoardo didn’t give me a figure to stay out of Lucia’s life. He gave me a percentage.
I almost gutted him on the spot for even insinuating he was entitled to something he hadn’t earned. Then I realized twenty percent for the privilege of keeping Lucia safe from predators like him is a small sacrifice to make.
I’d give every last cent if it would stop me from breaking the promise I made to Camille when I said it wouldn’t be long before Lucia came home with us.
Giovanni’s exhale is laced with disappointment rather than anger.
“Twenty percent is more than any of us have.” He waves his hand between the five of us.
I open my mouth, but he lifts a hand, cutting me off.
“Our shares are split with our father.” His words are primed with the patience only he can manage during a crisis.
“When he passes, his portion will be divided among us. Only then will we hold an equal share to what you’re proposing we hand to Edoardo fucking Cordoza on a silver platter. ”
I grit my teeth. “I know the numbers. I’m not stupid.”
“No one said you were stupid,” Nico mutters, though his tone suggests he believes otherwise.
Giovanni slouches back in his chair and steeples his fingers.
“This also isn’t about numbers. It’s about who you’re inviting into our business.
Edoardo isn’t a man we want near our holdings.
He still follows practices even our ancestors abandoned decades ago.
That’s why he has nothing, Dante, and why he’s desperate to grab something he hasn’t earned. ”
Matteo backs him up, shifting from foot to foot since standing still is impossible for someone as forever agitated as him. “He doesn’t want our money. He wants a share of the Caruso influence for the rest of its existence. He wants a permanent seat at our table.”
“And with that seat comes a heap of power someone like Edoardo can never yield.” Giovanni locks his eyes with mine, his tone hardening.
“We’re trying to make things better for our women and children.
Edoardo’s logic doesn’t align with our values.
He’ll make them worse. Is that what you want, Dante?
Do you want to make things harder for Camille? ”
“Of course I don’t want to make things harder for her.”
“Then what is this about?”
I drag a hand through my hair, frustration burning through me. “I… I...” I’ve never been lost for words, but now I can’t find the right ones no matter how hard I dig through the slosh in my head.
“Oh shit.” Matteo groans, his head flopping back as he peers at the ceiling.
“Papa was right. When one of us falls, we all fucking follow.” When Nico and Elio glare at him, lost, he thrusts his hand at Giovanni, who grins like a cat staring at an empty bowl.
“Why are you looking at me? That fucker started the avalanche.”
Giovanni puts the debate to bed. “That was dumbass’s way of saying he believes Dante is in love.”
Love?
“I’m not in… That’s not what this is about… I…” Again, I have nothing, so I settle for “Shut the fuck up, Matteo. Or I’ll step back and watch you fall without one bit of advice on how to get back up undusted.”
“Why the fuck would I want your advice? I’m not falling for any of this.
” He wiggles his fingers in Giovanni’s face and mine.
“You can keep that shit to yourself. Love?” He gags loudly.
“Could you imagine only having one pussy to sample for the rest of your life?” Despite Nico’s disgust, Elio only shrugs.
“Don’t act like our father wouldn’t hang you from the rafters by your nuts if you stepped out on your missus, E.
When you get shacked up, it’s the same pussy for eternity. Forever. For the rest of your life.”
“I know what eternity means, fuckface.”
While Matteo and Elio continue to bicker, Giovanni gets back to business.
“I know you’re desperate and probably scared out of your fucking mind, but this isn’t the way to protect Lucia.
However… Even if there are lines we can’t cross right now, it doesn’t mean we can’t smudge them a little.
” He walks around the desk until he’s close enough to shut Matteo up with a stern punch to the stomach.
“Go spend time with your girl. Hover around like all the billionaire losers do when they have a hot, barely legal nanny taking care of their children.” My laughter shifts to a groan when he adds, “Just keep it PG until we have enough in our arsenal to fight fire with fire.”
The fact that he’s willing to fight is all I need to drain the gasoline from the wreckage.
Giovanni never takes on a battle he can’t win.
With his arm curled around my shoulders, he guides me out of the study. “Pop in and see Papa on your way out. He isn’t happy you’ve been hogging all Camille’s time the past two weeks.”
“I’m not hogging her time. I’m merely saving my daughter from being irreparably scarred by the actions of a man who’s forgotten he’s in his sixties.” I shiver in a manner Matteo would be proud of. “I’m never eating in the formal dining room again.”
“He christened that table, too?” Matteo asks, his gags returning.
When Giovanni jerks up his chin, Matteo shadows my steps out of the study. “That’s it. I’m done. Time to move out.” His eyes gleam with mischief. “Your new place has a spare room, right?”
I shove my hand into his face, answering him without words.
Vanni laughs. It’s comforting to hear given the turmoil still choking the air. Then he reminds me that maturity doesn’t change our goals. “Can’t say I won’t be the same way at his age. If I die with my gray-haired head buried between Valentina’s thighs, I’ll leave this earth a very happy man.”
Before I can share matching sentiments, in true Matteo style, he licks my palm, then growls. “Actually, I could conform to monogamy for that scent.” I glare at him, and he winks, loving that he forced a response from me. “Have you washed your hands even once this week, D? I swear I can smell her—”
He folds in two when I slam my fist into his gut. Then, as he stumbles back, I throw the door into his face.
My brothers’ eerily similar laughter barrels through the now closed door.
It lasts barely five seconds before Giovanni reminds everyone why he heads the family.
“The first thing we need to do is confirm that Edoardo’s claim of matrimony is legitimate.
None of us is leaving this room until we’ve done that. ”
I suck in a big breath, then leave before I hear anything that will force me to speak with my fists.
I find my father in the sunroom, reading a newspaper like the world isn’t threatening to collapse around us. I assume he’s alone until a giggle sounds from beneath the ruffling paper.
“Jesus Christ, Papa.” As my hand shoots up to cover my eyes, I spin away from him.
Concetta’s apologetic gaze is as strong as her daughter’s when she slips past me not even a minute later. The air lingering in her wake is both feminine and masculine. It reminds me that not so long ago, I would have given anything for my father to act as lively as he does now.
His body wilted almost to nothing in the year after our mother’s death. Concetta’s presence breathed life back into his lungs.
For that alone, I pretend I’m not about to be sick when I hear my father’s zipper closing.
I turn to face him, my lips involuntarily twitching when I see how red his cheeks are.
My father never gets embarrassed.
I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Once he’s semi-respectable, he looks up, and I stagger back. His lusty gaze gives him a youthful appearance. Decades of stress have been wiped off his face.
Although I’d give anything to keep it that way, he speaks before I can.
“I assume your brothers told you no.”
Nodding, I sink into the chair across from him. “They did.”
He folds the newspaper he used as coverage from the many staff we have, then sets it aside. “Good. Because they’re right.”
Even knowing his word is gospel, I still clench my jaw. “I don’t like playing games.”
If someone deceives us, they die.
If they benefit us, they live.
That’s how simple the rules are when the people we’re interacting with are outside the Cosa Nostra.
“Then don’t play them,” Papa says simply.
“But that will be hard for someone who is such a strategic, honest player. You’re smart, Dante.
You know the rules exist for a reason. They keep us alive and our family intact.
But you’re underestimating the power of the queen.
She’s not the pawn. She is the strongest piece on the board. ”
“That’s not how the rules we live by make it seem.”
“Because you assume they were implemented solely to suppress women’s rights, but that isn’t all they’re about.
” I scoff, but he continues, proving he has more patience than I do.
“They’re also to protect them.” He angles his torso to face me and tilts his head.
“Imagine how many wives and children would be lured into unthinkable situations if the rules you’re fighting against didn’t exist?
They’d never know if the person they’re being wooed by was targeting them because they’d bonded, or because of an underlining plot to destroy their current relationship and everything it was built on.
” I don’t like what he says, but parts of it make sense.
“We’re working to change the rules so women will be free to leave.
But…” I could kill him for the delay. “Until that occurs, we must adhere to the rules.”
“It could be too late for Lucia then.” My twitching jaw hardens my reply. “Edoardo isn’t who she wants, but because he’s part of the Cosa Nostra, she has no say. That’s bullshit.” When the floodgates are open, I can’t stop the truth from falling from my lips. “I can’t lose her.”
This isn’t solely about what I crave. It’s also about what’s best for Camille.
It wasn’t easy stepping into fatherhood four years in, and when Anna left without a trace for the second time, it became even harder. Camille blamed me for her mother’s disappearance, and I’ve been fighting against the tide ever since.
The current became less turbulent when Lucia entered our lives. Instead of being pushed aside, I’m included. Not as much as I’d like, but compared to the crumbs of attention I was receiving, her acceptance of my place in her life has grown tenfold.
“Then don’t,” Papa murmurs, returning my focus. “You can keep her in your life.” His following words maim me more than they anger me. “But it must portray an employer–employee arrangement.”
I scoff, hating the idea of being within touching distance of Lucia but keeping my hands to myself. That isn’t a battle I can win.
My father laughs. “You’re giving Edoardo too much credit, Son.
You’re treating him as if he is a man of his word.
We both know he isn’t. If he’s lying, which I highly suspect he is, the truth will come out and he will pay for his lie.
But…” Another fucking delay. This one is filled with more anguish than anarchy.
“We need time to make sure we’re not starting another mafia war.
We don’t want to face the challenges of our ancestors, much less instigate them. ”
My chest tightens as the truth tumbles around me. Just knowing he’s doubtful of Edoardo’s claim of matrimony cools my blood, not to mention remembering how much my father lost when greed destroyed centuries of alliances.
I may not like the rules we have now, but I’d rather them than be governed by the man who almost destroyed our dynasty.
I adjust the collar of my shirt before breathing out heavily. “I understand.”
“Good.” He drifts his eyes to the exit. “Then do what you must. Work day and night if you have to. Find the truth and protect them both.” His eyes glint with fondness during his last words.
He loves Camille as much as he will love Giovanni’s soon-to-be-born son.
He doesn’t look at her with the same tainted glasses as some of our competitors.
The remembrance makes my fight that much easier.
As I stand, resolve hardens in my bones. “I won’t stop,” I pledge. “Not until I know everything.”
As I prepare to leave, Giovanni appears in the doorway, arms crossed and a rare uneasy smirk tugging at his mouth. “Then I guess it’s lucky you now have a nanny at your daughter’s beck and call.” He nudges his head toward the study I left only minutes ago. “Can we talk?”
Nodding, I bid farewell to our father by brushing my lips against his temple, then join Giovanni outside the sunroom.
I arch a brow at his unusual silence as his slow steps guide us toward the main entrance, where a fleet of foot soldiers are always primed for war. “Did you find something?”
“Not really a something. More a someone.”
For the umpteenth time today, the tension in my chest coils tightly enough to fracture my ribs when he jerks his chin to our left.
When I follow the direction of his narrowed gaze, the rug is pulled out from beneath me.
“Anna?”