Chapter 14
Alessandro
I didn’t get a single minute of sleep last night.
There were too many emotions flooding my mind for that to occur: adrenaline from getting shot at, regret from taking Sofia away from the safety of my home, anxiety that Marco is only going to further torment me regarding Sofia—and worst of all—I felt a glowing excitement in my chest all night long.
I don’t know if it’s an intentional thing she’s doing or not, but she’s getting under my skin. The thought of her jumping to her death filled me with the same type of fear I felt when Elena broke her leg falling off of a horse when she was a child.
The version of myself before I met Sofia Calabrese would have been callously delighted at the notion of her taking care of my problems by violently opting out of her current predicament.
But why do I care? We haven’t had any pleasant conversations or anything romantic or intimate occur. Although last night when she was in my arms…
Tending to her legs…
“Morning.” Her voice surprises me as I stare over the stove in the kitchen. I make my own breakfast in the morning since I never have the social energy to order something from downstairs.
“Rule number one,” I mutter before I can even think twice about it.
“Seriously?”
I turn around and look at her disappointed face. Her legs covered in bandages makes me feel like a complete dick. She must have assumed that the nature of our relationship changed last night—and my insomnia tells me that it has.
But I need to fight against it. Look how irrationally I’m behaving because of her: letting her go outside to cheer her up.
And this morning, I can barely string together a coherent thought, and this is the worst time in my life to be distracted.
I’m meeting with some of the other capos in two hours to discuss what would happen if Marco took a bullet to the skull.
This marriage, these feelings I have for Sofia… I can’t let it fuck up the rest of my life.
“Last night was poor judgement on my part. I should never have taken you outside. Now please let me make my breakfast in peace.”
I can tell Sofia is straining herself to keep her mouth shut. Her fists clench at her sides; her face is turning a shade of red; her jaw is set as she looks away from me towards the window.
Then her eyes finally snap over to me. “You deserve yourself, you insufferable, lonely bastard.”
I stalk over to her, grabbing her chin as her chest heaves in and out. “You will not speak another single word today. Yesterday was a courtesy, considering your emotional state. But that was a one-off. Understand?”
She shoves me away and then stands there, looking like she’s about to explode. I’ve seen her angry many times, but nothing like this. It makes me feel guilty.
Her chest slowly heaves in and out, as if she’s forcing herself to take slow breaths. Then she leaves me, heading towards the bedroom.
The door slams shut.
I can smell my breakfast burning behind me as I force myself to calm down and prepare for my conversation about planning a coup.
But all I can hear are three words repeating over and over again: insufferable, lonely, bastard.
“What’s the status of Vincenzo’s condition?” I ask Sal as he stands between Gio and Dante in my office. I’m still grumpy from the confrontation with Sofia, so I don’t bother with small talk beforehand, not that I typically do, anyway.
“Doctor said last night that he has a fifty-fifty shot of waking up and even if he does… there’s a good chance he’ll be mentally disabled, suffering amnesia, unable to walk or take care of himself, emotionally altered…” Sal’s eyes dart towards the floor, not meeting Dante’s.
Dante had a grenade go off unfortunately close to him seven years ago when we were at war with—hell if I know at this point.
We’re always at war. Dante was left mildly disfigured and with an unnaturally flat personality.
He’s as smart as ever, but there’s nothing there, emotionally speaking.
But I think I can still trust him; logically, he should be able to see that Marco is losing it and support my ambitions.
“Hell,” Gio says, “if that were me, please pull the fucking plug.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Sal jokes. I chuckle along with Gio as Dante maintains his dull, lopsided expression. “Anyway, why’d you call us in here so early? I have a hunch about what the topic of conversation is going to be, but I want to hear it from you first, Alessandro.”
“A simple thought experiment.” I shrug. “Let’s say Vincenzo stays comatose indefinitely or dies. And then let’s say something tragic happens to Marco around the same time. What does that mean for our family?”
“We’re fucked,” Gio says.
Sal nods. “Marco isn’t stable enough to name another successor than Vincenzo at the moment. I’ve considered trying to ask in a roundabout and graceful way, but I enjoy my head remaining attached to my body. So there’d be internal conflict; maybe we’d dissolve entirely. Who the fuck knows?”
“This is why I want to be proactive,” I say.
“Marco hasn’t been acting right recently.” Gio’s eyes dart to the door with worry, as if Marco is standing right outside listening. His voice quiets. “He’s not that old yet, but I question if he has the mental faculties to be in this position anymore. He’s more forgetful; he’s more irrational—”
“He’s more fucked up in the head than I am,” Dante adds.
“Your wedding was ridiculous,” Sal says. “No wonder one of us ended up glued to a hospital bed. The Calabreses are weak—we could have squeezed money out of them without all of that drama. And yet, Marco insisted on giving his least favorite son a memorable wedding. His words, not mine, obviously.”
“He called me a son? That’s a first.”
Sal claps his hand on my shoulder. I’ve always liked him, and in a way he feels like family to me. I’d rather die than express that to him—his actual family is massive, so I doubt he feels the same way. But at least I know he respects me on a professional level.
“Back to the original question,” Sal says. “Who do you have in mind to be the successor assuming both Marco and Vincenzo die? You?”
“I’d be comfortable with it. But I’m open to discussion. I figure, as long as the four of us back the same person, we’re less likely to fall apart after Marco’s death.”
There are a few other captains besides the men in this room. But either they’re too loyal to Marco or I simply don’t trust them.
Gio whistles. “That’s a breath of fresh air.”
“What? Compared to the ramblings of a madman? Of course,” Sal says.
“None of you are old enough to remember what it was like working beneath Marco’s father, but it was like night and day.
He was cruel when he needed to be, as any good boss should be, but he was predictable—fair.
Something that Marco has never had the capacity for.
However, we’ve never seen this level of rapid expansion before with Marco, so he’s doing something right.
Alessandro, it could be difficult following in his footsteps for this reason. ”
“I thought of that too,” I say. “But I think I can manage. Sal, you have more experience than I do, and I think you have the skills to be a good leader. Do you have an interest in the position?”
He snorts. “Absolutely not. Look at this conversation we’re having right now; we’re plotting against Marco. I certainly don’t want to find myself in that position, not when I have fifteen, no…” he pauses, “seventeen grandchildren I could spend time with, instead.”
I figured his response would be something of that nature, but it’s nice hearing him say it out loud.
I don’t bother asking Gio or Dante. I know Gio likes managing the hacking, the cameras, and whatever other technology we need.
And Dante? He obviously can’t lead. If his injury had occurred before getting promoted to captain, he would never have made it up the ranks.
“I know you trust the three of us the most,” Sal says. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if Elio wants this position as badly as you do. I’d still prefer you, but I think he’d be capable of being boss. And all of his soldiers and Vincenzo’s soldiers are loyal to him.”
I wince at the thought of Vincenzo’s best friend taking over the family. “I can speak to him next.”
“Good idea,” Sal says. “Now, let’s hurry out of here before Marco has time to get paranoid about what we’re talking about. And Alessandro? Don’t do anything too rash. Patience with this type of thing is key.”
“Of course.” I nod.
They file out of my office. This conversation went much better than I expected, and a sense of ease washes over me.
Maybe I really can lead this place one day. How different would my life look? Being in charge. Being able to make all the decisions. And best of all, Marco would be gone.
Before I can ponder that further, Sal opens the door, holding Sofia by the arm. How she got out is beyond me, but clearly she’s disguised herself on purpose: huge sunglasses, a floppy hat, a thick coat. She probably would have been less conspicuous if she had just looked like herself.
It’s as if she knew today is the worst day to distract me. I wish I could simply be angry, but there’s something about her testing me like this that makes blood rush to my cock, and I want to get Sal out of here as quickly as possible.
“Thank you, Sal. Did Marco see her?”
“Not that I’m aware of. She was walking right past your office after our meeting.” He pushes her gently forward. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.”