He grinned at me a second later. “Your grandfather didn’t want you looking for the Scarpones because he knew Vittorio Scarpone is still alive.”
Just because you were the smartest man in the room didn’t mean you had to flaunt it. Sometimes it was wise to pretend you were the dumbest. In this instance, it was wise to pretend I was the smartest.
I opened and closed my hands, as if to say, go on.
“You’re still looking for him. Looking to rid the world of all Scarpone blood. And if you’re looking for him, he’s waiting for you.” He shrugged. “He’ll take care of you and make things easier for me. You don’t stand a chance against a ghost.”
I matched his grin. “Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Silvio. What’s done is done. The family voted.”
“The family might have voted, but you’ll have to work to get me into a room with four walls and no way out.”
“I look forward to it,” I said.
He stood, and so did his men. I watched Vito carefully as they made their way toward the door. He walked behind Silvio, and as they reached the door, he did two things at once: he reached inside of his jacket, and he touched Silvio on the shoulder. Before Silvio could react and turn around, Vito put the gun he pulled from underneath his jacket to his best friend’s head and pulled the trigger. It had a silencer, but it couldn’t hide the bloodshed all over the wall and the floor.
Vito tucked the gun back inside of his jacket and turned to me. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. Our eyes met and held.
He would pay for this. The commission had ruled that it would be done on our terms, not his. Instead of following orders, Vito was telling me that even if he had to do it, he was going to do his way. Except he did it in a public place, which meant that it could cause trouble for my men and myself. I was the boss of my family, and without a head, the body fails. If this wasn’t a place that catered to men like me, I might have truly considered the implications. However, this wasn’t about the act, but about the blatant disrespect.
Vito and I had a problem.
Vito turned around and stepped over his best friend a second later, rushing out of the restaurant.
Sylvester appeared as soon as Vito disappeared, closing the door behind him. He had a card in his hand. He slipped it on the table. “Dinner is on the house,” he said. “Mr. Macchiavello will be in touch. Do not worry about this.” He nodded toward where Silvio bled out.
Dishes clanked next to me. Adriano had pulled Alcina’s plate closer, removing the plate he must have put on top of it so the blood wouldn’t splatter onto it, and was finishing her dessert. “I’m starving,” he said, shrugging. “The doc has me on steroids and I can’t get enough to eat.”
* * *
“Are you sure about this,cugino?”Adriano sat next to Baggio in the front of the car, narrowing his eyes against the windshield, trying to see past the rain coming down harder than it had two days ago.
“If I wasn’t—” I fixed my tie “—we wouldn’t be going.”
I took out the card Macchiavello had passed on to me through Sylvester, flipping it around with my fingers. Something shady was going on with him. He ran one of the most successful restaurants in New York. He owned one of the biggest nightclubs in New York. The Club. And none of these places were on any of the books.
He could have been a legitimate business owner, but he catered to too many high profiles. There was a certain kind of honey that was put out for men like us. Once we started hovering, we became comfortable, patronizing places we knew.
Somemen got comfortable.
I never created patterns in my life. It was too easy to figure out people who did. One thing I learned in this life—we were all capable of the same amount of damage, so none of us feared each other. What was important was to be able to outsmart the next guy.
Mac Macchiavello was smart.
I was, too.
I had an uncanny ability to read every man in the room, his intentions, and to approach him in a way that would turn the situation in my favor. If not, I acted accordingly. Rarely did I lose my cool, though, because there was no need.
It was either to be or not to be. What was there to get upset about?
“You don’t get mad, Corrado,” my grandfather used to say. “You don’t even get even. You strive to rise above, no matter what it takes to get there. If the door refuses to open, go through a window. It’s as simple as that.”
My grandfather taught me early on what it meant to be a man worthy of this life.
What it meant to have respect, not only for men, but for women.
What it meant to be loyal. To respect a code put in place for a reason.
What it meant to carry on traditions. To honor our old ways and welcome new ones that would only make us stronger as a family.
