7. Equal Representation: Each faction will be given equal time and opportunity to voice their concerns, propose solutions, and negotiate terms to ensure a fair and balanced process.
8. Scheduled Breaks: Regular breaks will be scheduled throughout the parley to allow participants to regroup, discuss suggestions, and avoid fatigue-induced conflicts.
9. Social Activities: Social events, such as shared meals, will be organized to encourage informal interaction and build rapport among the participants.
10. Castellani Family Observers: Representatives from the Castellani Family will observe the proceedings to ensure fairness and compliance with the parley rules. However, they will not actively participate in the negotiations or decision-making process.
11. Consequences for Violations: Any violation of the peace of the parley will result in severe consequences, such as expulsion from the proceedings, or disciplinary action against the disturber of the peace.
CHAPTER 8
RAFFI
This so-calledparley is a pressure cooker on the way to exploding, and Pedretti was lucky to be kept out of it.
I've been pacing through the foyer, the grand salon, and the nearby rooms which are being used for side-talks and one-on-ones, alert for any signs of trouble on the first night. We already had the formal oaths earlier in the day, all the made men crowding into the dining room to agree to the parley rules. No weapons. No shit-talking. And no fighting.
Gino and AJ, oldest and youngest Bernardi brother and each leading their own faction, signed a formal document agreeing to it all, and they even shook hands for about a millisecond.
And so far, everyone is on their best behavior, some even putting on a show of congeniality and backslapping while they size each other up. I guess they used to all be brothers, after all, until they had to choose sides.
But the truth is, these Bernardis are a tinder box. AJ and Gino stand on opposite sides of the room surrounded by their loyalists, but they haven't taken their eyes off each other, and you don't have to be psychic to figure out what they're thinking.
Thankfully there are some civilians here tonight to help temper the worst instincts of all these assholes. Wives and girlfriends have been invited along to the openingsoiree, as Darian insisted on calling it all through our preparations, so the crowd has a little sparkle to it compared to the usual mob gathering. After the dinner, only Gino and AJ and their key entourage figures will stay at Redwood.
And tomorrow they'll start talking.
Darian glides through the crowd, a tray of crystal flutes balanced perfectly on one hand. His back is ramrod straight, his expression neutral, but I know he's tense. The set of his shoulders is a dead giveaway.
I track his progress around the room. All these brainless Bernardi thugs barely give him a second glance, but I can't look away. He pauses by the fireplace to offer a flute of champagne to AJ Bernardi, inclining his head deferentially. AJ waves him off with irritation, more interested in scheming.
Darian's lips tighten for a fraction of a second before he moves on.
A surge of anger rises in my chest at that asshole Bernardi's rudeness. I want to walk over there and put the smug bastard in his place. How dare he treat Darian that way?
And that thought brings me up short.
Since when did I become Darian's champion? He might be cute, but the guy is a pain in my ass, a constant annoyance with his refusal to play by my rules. Thesecurityrules, which are ten times more important than fuckingetiquette. Yeah, we got along better when we had to work together to get this parley organized—but that's only because I bit my tongue so damn hard thewhole time I just about severed it. Darian compromised on a few things, but he was still so damnstubborn.
And yet…the way he carries himself with quiet dignity despite the disrespect of these Bernardi fucks stirs something in me. Admiration, I guess.
And then there's the way he blushes at the slightest things I say to him…
But I have other things to worry about tonight. The power dynamics in the room are shifting and turning. You never know who's got the upper hand in any one moment, but these people are selfish and ruthless. It's my job to help them keep their shit under wraps, and I'm stressed enough about it without having to worry about the damn butler.
But I can't deny I've been thriving. In the middle of all the chaos and uncertainty about the parley, where every decision carried significant weight, I was there, suggesting things. Even nixing some, standing up to Don Castellani himself and telling him no-go for some of the thingshewanted to do, once Pedretti advised me to speak my mind to the Boss after a frantic phone call early on.
"Your job is to tell the Boss 'no' when he needs to hear it. So tell him no, and give him a reason. If he still wants it to happen, then you make it happen."
"Mr. C's even worse," I'd grumbled. "Darian says he wants a fucking string quartet for the weekend."
Pedretti had chuckled at that. "Julian's just looking to push your buttons. Shut him down, but don't lose your cool. Remember what I always told you, DeLuca: take Julian seriously, but neverpersonally. And as for Darian, you'll find it easier to work with him than against him."
Things got a lot easier once I took Pedretti's advice. It's even been fun, that sense of control. Decisions during this parley might get made by people much higher up the food chain than me, but I'm the one who gives them a secure space in which to make those decisions.
The room has separated into two clumps at either end—Gino and AJ, surrounded by supporters—with a constant trickle of men between them, carrying messages, offers, suggestions.
AJ's crew all have matching lighters, big heavy silver things with the Bernardi crest on them that they're all using to light cigars, or just flip open and shut with sharp metallic clanks as they speak, emphasizing their words.
