He nodded and fixed his hair again, giving mine a look before he seemed to stand taller. “I have learned that life reminds me of a book—a book that we each get to write. However, there are some parts we cannot go back and read until, perhaps, our book is done. The favorite parts of my life are the parts that you are writing as we speak, with your wife. If I could go back andwrite the book of my life with my wife again, I would do so in a heartbeat. This is where my favorite lines have been highlighted in my heart.”
The depth of my brother’s comment hit me square in the chest, as if he had struck me there. The truth and conviction behind his words went much deeper than Romeo usually shared. Although he was as romantic as the rest of us, he was not usually the man who said such poignant things in the room, unless these comments had to do with his hair.
All the men in the room nodded in agreement with his sentimentalities. I squeezed his shoulder, knowing the times Romeo spoke of were the loneliest times of my life.
Perhaps the men of my age had not experienced the same soul-cutting loneliness I had, and I was thankful for this, but they were experiencing a loss they could never get back—the beginning times with their wives.
I was only just experiencing the beginning with my wife.
After I cleared my throat, I fixed my suit and took my father’s seat at his desk. He was staying up to date on the situation with the Russian drug dealers, but he did not care to be the lead on it. He felt the Francesco issue was the most pressing. If the drug situation became a true threat, then and only then would he intervene.
The beginning of the meeting was about the situation in New Orleans. Our rental there being bombed, and in retaliation, we took out the drug warehouse.
We discussed a few points, then Mac filled me in on our main point of contact and what this all meant.
“War,” he said simply. “These drugs are more powerful and more lucrative than any that has hit the streets before. If the Russians are willing to go to war with the Fausti family over them, we know how much Daze means to them. The warehouse in New Orleans was one of their most active fronts. Sameas New York, it’s easy to smuggle thousands of pounds of dangerous powder through the boats constantly using the river for delivery.”
“They are demanding we repay them for the drugs,” Brando said to sum up the situation.
Mac nodded. “Or our rental in New Orleans is a small price to pay for what’s coming, including the women not being in the house at the time of the explosion.”
We all grew silent until Brando cleared his throat. “You know of more of their places?”
The issue with the Russians and the drugs was personal to my brother. His son-in-law, Saverio, had been taken, along with Mac and a few of our men, by the Russians. Mia, my goddaughter, had gone to save them all. It made the situation even more personal when it was discovered that old acquaintances had gotten involved in the drug business with our enemies turning them into foes. These old foes had been leading the charge.
My older brother wanted everyone involved to be held responsible, not only for drugging us, Mia included, along with cutting her feet with glass shards, but for putting his daughter in harm’s way yet again. She had been shot. None of us would forget it.
I nodded after Mac listed a few of their places.
“The biggest,” I said.
“The warehouse in New York,” Mac said. “At the moment.”
I nodded again. “In answer to the threat, burn it down.”
Mac nodded. “Your father will have to be briefed.”
Although I was close to becoming the next king, my father still was. He would be briefed, and if he did not feel the war was worth continuing, he would say so. I did not think this would be the case, given that it was more than business. It was personal, because my goddaughter had been the target.
When it was time for my father to enter the meeting, along with all his men, Donato included, we all stood to greet him. He replaced me in his rightful seat, and the meeting continued.
He listened intently about the ultimatum the drug pins had given us. He nodded at my decision to answer their threat with one of our own.
We discussed, briefly, Uncle Tito and how he was doing. The men in the room became quiet, a weight that was not there before pressing in on us. Aunt Lola’s death was a reminder of what we all stood to lose—not only our hearts but our minds.
My hands balled and flexed. I could feel my wife in my arms, the scent of her drifting past my nose, and then I felt that my hands were completely empty. My chest as well, before it continued to beat.
It was an odd sensation.
To have the world.
To lose it all.
I did not know how to deal with it.
Brando stood. I stood. Romeo and Dario followed. We all began to pace. I found myself at the window, searching for my wife again. When I did not find her, my heart ordered my feet to the door.
“Sit, all of you,” the king ordered. “Your wives are safe on this property.” He listed the places our wives were currently. They were all in the kitchen preparing the Thanksgiving feast.
