Francesca #3
A slight grin formed on his lips before he looked at my father again. “I’m sure you’ve heard Icarus is on the way to town.” He relaxed in the chair, arms at his sides, having a distinct presence despite his lack of size and muscle. “That’ll be fun.”
“For you,” Dad said. “I’m not in violation of any of his requests.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure Lombardi’s little tomato operation is.”
“We’ve halted production and distribution.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And what about all that leftover product?”
“What about it?” Dad asked.
“Sell it to me. Of course, I’ll only pay you half of market value, but that’s the best offer you’re going to get under the circumstances.”
“I’m not interested in selling.”
“Really? Sounds like a waste.”
“I didn’t purchase it from the supplier,” Dad said.
“You’re really that scared of Icarus?” he asked with a slight laugh. “That you would just dump it instead of making a nice bonus?”
My dad finally lost his patience. “What do you want, Warren?”
“Ooh, you’re a little testy today. Loosen up, Vincenzo. It’s a wedding. Did you know I fucked the bride a couple years ago? She was a shitty lay.”
“It’s hard to be a good lay when you don’t have much to work with,” I snapped.
His eyes immediately shifted to me.
“Frankie,” my dad said under his breath.
Instead of looking pissed off like he should, Warren actually grinned. “Your daughter is feisty, Vincenzo. If I were you, I’d be more worried about someone stealing her instead of your guns.”
I already knew what was about to happen, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Wolfe moved so fast that the scene was a blur.
He grabbed the back of Warren’s head and slammed it down onto the table so hard the table vibrated from the hit.
Wolfe’s hand was still gripping Warren’s hair, so he flung it back, grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and literally lifted him into the air before he slammed him down onto the chair.
Even with the loud music and everyone being distracted by the good conversation and chocolate cake, people turned to look at the commotion.
Andre was on his feet, pointing his gun into one of the henchmen’s sides so he wouldn’t interfere.
Salvatore was on the other one.
“Wolfe.” My dad’s voice was sharp.
I knew Warren must be really hurt or in shock when he didn’t get up on his own right away.
As if Wolfe didn’t hear my father, he grabbed Warren by the back of his jacket and forced him over the table, pinning him to the tablecloth with his arms twisted behind his back. His other hand was pressed into the back of Warren’s neck. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Warren gritted his teeth and tried to fight Wolfe’s hold, but he didn’t move an inch. “So much for the code, huh?” His angry eyes went straight to my father, and he flashed him a hateful accusation.
Violence and provocations weren’t allowed at certain occasions like weddings and funerals. Regardless of the friction between the gangs, we had to remain cordial for special events like this. Only words and verbal threats could be exchanged. Either Wolfe didn’t know that or he didn’t give a shit.
“Wolfe,” my father repeated.
Wolfe completely tuned him out and continued to shove Warren’s face into the tablecloth. “You thought you could disrespect Don Mancini’s daughter and live to brag about it?” He twisted his arm, and there was an audible crack.
Warren gritted his teeth and winced before he sucked in a heavy breath, clearly in immense pain but still too proud to show it.
“Goddammit, Wolfe.” My father was on his feet. “Release him.”
Wolfe lifted him and slammed him down again, making an even bigger scene. “Threaten Francesca Mancini again, and I’ll break every fucking bone in your body, you little bitch.” He slammed him down another time then threw him on the floor, his body rolling twice before he finally came to a stop.
Wolfe’s nostrils flared, and he looked so livid, it seemed like the confrontation wasn’t over. “Get the fuck up and get the fuck out, or I’ll break your neck.”
Warren struggled to rise at first, having one workable arm to lift him up. But he managed to get to his feet, and Andre withdrew his gun from the ribs of one of the guys. Salvatore released the arm of the other guy and stepped back.
Warren gave Wolfe the dirtiest look and shifted that stare to my father before he turned and walked off.
The music continued to play overhead and most of the people didn’t have a clue what had just happened, but all the tables that surrounded us had watched the violent scene with terrified expressions.
A lot of people had left their seats altogether and fled elsewhere like they didn’t want to be anywhere near it.
My father remained where he stood and turned his stare on Wolfe.
I’d seen that look many times. Leo and I called it “The Wrath of God.”
Wolfe looked just as explosive, like he was tempted to pursue Warren and rip his head off in the middle of the dance floor.
“What the fuck, Wolfe?” My father raised his voice. “I told you to stop—”
“I don’t care!” Wolfe yelled. “And I’m not fucking sorry. When someone crosses you, you handle it right then and there—”
“Enough.” My father stepped away from the table and started to walk off. “Wolfe, come with me. Now.”