“Whenyou kill him?” Montanari slams his fist down on the table, making the silverware and plates clatter. “Why does he still live?”
“I plan to make him suffer.” My voice is cold enough to end the next wave of murmurs. “We are talking about the murder ofmyfather, after all.Iwill choose the manner and the time of Julian’s death. In the meantime, tonight—after dinner—I expect each of you to make your new vows to me, as head of the Family.”
I can tell at once that I’ve asked too much, too quickly. Not even Jacopo can get me out of this one.
“Sandro,” Lombardo says, with a kind, reproving tone that makes me clench my teeth. “You must give us time to come to terms with all that you are telling us. We have many problems, some of which you may not yet know—the Bernardis keep pushing at our territory; there’s a federal investigation into our business ventures; an FBI plant we caught in our rank and file a few months back—” He rolls his hand in the air as he names problem after problem for the Castellani Family.
And this is all news to me. My father kept these things away from me—me, his son and heir.
Another, more infuriating thought occurs to me. He may well have told Julian. His favorite.Julian. Always the preferred son, even before my face was destroyed…
“Then it isyourjob, as my Consigliere, to bring me up to speed,” I snap at Lombardo, interrupting his litany of issues.
“And I will,” he says calmly. “Butasyour advisor, the first thing I must tell you—” He looks around the room and seems to believe he has support, because he goes on. “—is that we cannot swear to you as head of the Family until your father has been avenged. You must see this.”
How dare he? My fingers ache as I bunch my hands into fists, the unfamiliar band of the Castellani ring pressing into my flesh. “I will not rush to execute Julian just to claim my birthright. Ibelieveit was him—but I don’t know for sure. And if it wasnothim, I intend to find the killer, whoever they are.”
I look around the room, at the uneasy faces, wondering if it was one of them. Only Lombardo gives an approving nod. “That’s as it should be. A wise leader doesn’t rush to judgment. So once you’ve resolved the matter, then we’ll make our vows. In the meantime…” He stands and raises his wine glass in a toast. “To Ciro,” he says. “May the old Don rest in peace.”
The rest of them murmur their platitudes. Even Jacopo raises a glass. As for me, I stand there silent. Alone.
I’ve always known I stood apart. I was raised to rely upon myself. But for the first time, I see it…
Justhowalone I really am.
CHAPTER3
TEDDY
You people are sick. Y’all need Jesus. Imagine getting horny over murderers. What is WRONG WITH YOU ALL????
Another day,another troll comment on the public-facingCute Crimsforums. I don’t even get worked up about them these days, I just delete. That’s what I do now: delete, block user, move on with my life.Cute Crimsserves a pretty niche interest, and from time to time it attracts losers who try to rile up the community. Lucky I saw this comment fast; I keep telling my user baseDon’t feed the trolls!, but I might as well save my fingers the typing.
And there’sanotherone that popped up while I was dealing with the first.
You all live in some fantasy land. Wake up these people are CRIMINALS
It takes a lot of self-restraint not to reply,Duh, did you miss the name of the website?But I don’t.
Delete, block user, move on with my life.
I have a new picture of the Morelli Family Don, Luca D’Amato, to put up today, so I’ve been cleaning up the comments section under his profile. Photos of Luca are few and far between, and I’m pretty pleased with this one, despite it being so long-range: he’s coming out of his New York home, husband a step or two behind him. Luca is looking around, but Finch is clearly mid-sentence and staring at his phone.
I had a debate with myself about whether to crop out the husband. Finch D’Amato is pretty notorious, sure, but he’s not a made man, as far as I—or my contacts—know. Recently I’ve come down harder on who makes the cut, after people started putting up random burglars and drug dealers. Now my requirements for anyone with their own profile onCute Crimsare threefold:musthave a photo,mustbe cute, andmustbe Family, or at leastex-Family. That means someone like Angelo Messina is still on there, but I took down his husband’s profile. It also means no associates, and no hopefuls who haven’t yet been initiated.
Of course, it’s hard sometimes to know who’s been made and who hasn’t. Finch D’Amato is one guy who gets argued about aloton the private discussion boards. But I’m the one who owns and runs the site, so I’m the one who has to be convinced. And as far as Finch goes, I’m not.
Not yet.
I tap my lower lip and swing back and forth in my gaming chair as I play it back through my mind. Icouldcrop him out of this Luca photo. It was sent to me by one of my top-tier users, though, and he pays alotfor his membership status. He’s also a Finch Fanatic, and he’ll want me to upload the whole pic. A little goodwill goes a long way.
There’s a knock at my door and I just about fall out of my chair as I hurriedly hit the shortcut to bring up my screensaver. “What?” I holler.
The door opens and my mother appears in the doorway. She gives me, and then the dark room, a look of distaste. “Open a window, Teddy. You need some fresh air. Better yet, go outside and take a walk. You’re too pale.”
I get my coloring fromher, so that’s pretty rich. But I don’t point that out. “Later, Mom. I promise.”
“Any luck on the job front?”
