I’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and sitting in his too-damn-comfortable office chair had finally done me in, but Father wasn’t the type to accept excuses. I bolted upright and apologized.
“Stand,” he said. “And try to stay awake.”
I rose and stood behind my chair, careful not to touch it so he wouldn’t accuse me of slacking. They continued their conversation while I stood guard like a sentry or a common soldier, exactly how the old man wanted me to feel. He and Michael spoke of plans involving me like I wasn’t even in the room. Father would allow us a few hours of sleep, but he wanted us back on Chains’s trail as soon as possible to track down his entire crew and bring them in for questioning.
The families kept the peace in Vegas… mostly. Only peace looked a lot like a shaky house of cards with a grenade on top. We knew the Durante family was behind the attack, and we sure as hell planned to retaliate. But if we could prove their involvement, their allies would be a little more hesitant to jump in and collapse the peace completely.
As the meeting’s last order of business, Father gave me a task. “The new chef… make sure she gets to and from work every day. Keep an eye on her and let me know if the Durantes are sniffing around.”
Babysitting a cook was the type of task he’d normally assign to a common soldier, and now he gave it to me as punishment. The rest of the crew would get a kick out of this for sure, but I couldn’t force myself to get too upset about the chance to watch Annetta Porro’s fine ass. Oh, I’d keep an eye on her all right. Trying not to sound too eager, I said, “Yessir.”
“Did you find out what happened to the last chef?” Michael asked.
Father’s eyes hardened. “One of Carlo’s men found him back at his mom’s house in Reno. Said someone threatened him into leaving town for a while.”
Thechooch, the moron, had run, and, judging by Father’s reaction, the chef’s temporary vacation had turned into a permanent one. The old man had no use for cowards or traitors. And if the Durantes had scared the old chef off, who knew what they’d do to the new one? Had I put Annetta Porro’s life in danger by pushing for her to get the job?
By the time Father released us, worry and exhaustion left no room in my brain to even think about food. Mamma wouldn’t hear of it, though. She sat both Michael and me down, plopping a giant slice of baked frittata in front of each of us. My sister, Abriana, wandered into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of orange juice, sat at the table, and stared out the window.
I nudged her under the table with my foot. “You okay, Bri?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Peachy.”
Finishing up the dishes, Mamma paused long enough to frown at Abriana before tossing her towel on the counter and leaving. The instant she slipped out of sight, Abriana carried her glass of juice to the liquor cabinet and topped it off with vodka.
“Bri!” Michael reprimanded. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Our nineteen-year-old little sister shouldn’t be partaking at all, but especially not at seven in the morning.
Abriana screwed the lid back on the vodka and set it in the cabinet. “Take a chill pill, Mikey. If I’m old enough for them to sell me off like some prized cow, I should be old enough for the hard stuff.”
“A prized cow?” Michael snorted. “Someone’s got a high opinion of herself.”
She tilted back the glass, downing every drop before setting it on the counter. “Screw you.”
“Poor little Abriana,” he taunted. “You think it’s any different for us? Do you honestly believe you’re the only one Father’s working on a marriage contract for?”
She blinked, looking to me for answers. I knew nothing, so I said, “You wanna fill us in, Mike?”
“You’re twenty-three, Dom. I’m twenty-five. Only reason we’re still single is that Father didn’t want to tip his hand too soon. Now he’s cementing his alliances and it’s only a matter of time.”
I don’t know why I was shocked. There weren’t many decisions that the old man let us make for ourselves, but for some reason I’d expected to be able to select my own wife. I felt sucker-punched as I stared at my brother, wondering how long he’d known about this. “Who’s he hooking you up with?” I asked.
“One of the Caruso girls. I’m supposed to get to know them during Abriana’s engagement dinner and tell him which one.” Michael put his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands, staring at his plate.
My brother had secrets… secrets he was keeping from me.
I didn’t want to know, but I refused to be a coward and forced myself to ask the question. “What about me?”
Michael looked at me and shrugged.
The bastard knew. I could see it in his eyes. “Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, Mike. Who’s he plannin’ to saddle me with?”
“He told me not to tell you until the dance, but I think it’s better that you have some time to come to grips with it.” Michael took a drink and set down his cup.
That sounded bad. Not only was he stalling, but my brother had argued with Father about when to tell me? “Who the fuck is it?” I asked.
“Ciro Pelino’s daughter. They’ll announce it right after I get hitched.”
