The other men grumbled as I spoke. When the don’s consigliere argued against my request, they nodded, murmuring to themselves. Not unexpected, but annoying.
I’d already threatened one of them. Knowing my reputation, they probably expected more threats. That gave me an opportunity to take a different tact. Keeping your opponent off balance offered an advantage, after all. I pulled my smart phone out of my breast pocket and held it up until the murmured complaints came to an end.
“This is a phone,” I said, pausing after still holding it up.
Pirrello and a few of the other men frowned. The seat stealer scowled. Just the reaction I wanted.
“The first telephone was made in the 1870s,” I continued after I let my earlier words hang. “For most of the first century, one company controlled the entire telephone market in the United States: American Telephone and Telegraph company, AT&T or Ma Bell.”
“I don’t see the need for a phone history lesson, Mr. Petrovich,” Enrico interrupted, earning nods from the other men at the table. “We aren’t in the telephone business, are we?”
The others chuckled at that until I leveled a glare at the consigliere. When silence reigned again, I continued.
“Some of you are old enough to remember phones back in the 1970s and 80s, I’m sure.” I glanced from the greying Pirrello to one of the other men who’d seen a few more decades than I had. “You had two options for the rotary phone you leased from Ma Bell: desk or wall model.”
The older man nodded, as did Pirrello, his brows furrowed. The rest kept listening without much of a response.
“Ma Bell had a monopoly, a very successful and lucrative one,” I continued. “Successes in business leads to stagnation and you don’t need a monopoly for that. When what you have been doing has been bringing in money hand over fist, you stop innovating. Eventually, the market leaves you behind. This organization has been successful for decades, growing steadily, but the world around us is changing. If we are going to capitalize on that, I need to kick the tire, get a good look under the hood.”
“We aren’t a business, we’re the Mafia,” complained the seat stealer.
My jaw dropped at that comment. A barking laugh threatened to burst from my throat. Before I could call the man an idiot, the door behind him opened. Of all people to step through, I hadn’t expected Olivia.
Everyone at the table rose to their feet, the seat stealer scrambling after he had to crane his neck to see the newcomer. I stood last, eyes on my new wife’s, searching for her intent.
Other than a slight smile toward the men, her expression gave nothing away. My paranoid mind latched on to the first viable theory it came up with. She had appeared in an effort to undermine me in front of her father’s men. If she asked them to take me out, I probably wouldn’t leave the room alive.
Her heels clicked on the floor as she approached my position, eyes still surveying my men, avoiding my own. Only when she stood shoulder to shoulder with me did she even acknowledge my presence with a tiny nod.
“Sorry for interrupting, gentlemen,” she said, motioning for everyone to sit. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you for your support during this transition. My father was a brilliant man and I want you to know that I fully support his decision regarding the leadership of the family.”
Her words should have relaxed the tension in my shoulders. She hadn’t undercut my position at all. The confidence she gave me strengthened it, in fact. Still, they were as unexpected as a declaration of love from her. I remained rigid, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Well, I know you are in good hands and I have a lunch date with Celeste, so I’ll let you get back to it,” she continued patting my shoulder, even giving it a little squeeze. “See you back home.”
With that, she turned and walked back out the door. It closed behind her, leaving us in silence. Enrico stared at the door, frowning. His attention turned back to me, but the frown only deepened.
“It seems marriage is agreeable to Olivia,” he said before sitting.
The other men dropped back into their chairs, with me following. I gave the don’s—no—myconsigliere a nod. Even the seat stealer had lost his scowl thanks to Olivia’s unexpected vote of confidence.
“All right,” I said, sitting taller at the head of the table, “let’s get back to business.”
8
Olivia
Iburst out the door of the bistro and into the afternoon heat. My eyes closed to the blinding sun as I took a deep breath. If I hadn’t made lunch plans with Celeste, I would have rushed home for a quick shower. I felt so dirty for praising the thug like that. More so because he probably deserved it.
The moment he’d left the mansion, a mental battle had broken out in my head. My love and respect for my father fought the anger at him and the thug for the position they put me in, the crazy demands they had on me.
In the end, that love had barely won out. I knew if I made an appearance, offered my support, my father’s vision for the future would be more likely to come to pass.
Once I made it to the bistro, I waited outside the door. Gino didn’t mind me listening in. He moved aside the moment I asked. What I heard only made me want to offer that support more.
The heat finally started to annoy me so I hurried to my car. The AC blasted before I even sat in the driver’s seat. You had to love the little conveniences that came in the newest model. As I drove to the boba tea shop Celeste wanted to meet in, I tried to banish any thought of the thug from my mind, put my focus on the road and the music rattling my bones.
It worked, for the most part. I soon found myself near the address she’d given me. A parking spot nearby even opened up so I wouldn’t have to hoof it too far in the heat. After stepping out of the car, I stretched and hurried into the shop.
