Siobhan leans back in her chair, silent. Then, a slow smile spreads across her face. “You know what I see when I look at you?” she asks, her green eyes sparkling with something that might be delight.
I’m instantly wary. If she says Giuseppe, I’m going to scream. “What’s that?”
“I see myself at your age,” she answers honestly, surprising me, “if I’d been smart enough to think three moves ahead instead of just hitting hard and hoping for the best.” She stands, extending her hand again. “The Irish are in. Full support, complete cooperation, and I’ll personally guarantee that our people handle their assigned targets.”
The handshake we exchange feels like I’ve just made a deal with the devil. Except I’m totally okay with this deal.
“Excellent.” I turn to address the entire room. “We have forty-eight hours to prepare for the biggest family war in New York history. I want every detail confirmed, every contingency planned, every team briefed and ready.”
“When do we begin final preparations?” Antonio asks, his weathered face showing the excitement of someone who’s spent a lifetime waiting for a war worth fighting.
Strike when they’re weakest. When they think they’re safe,Giuseppe’s voice counsels.
Strike when it serves our broader purpose,Sophia’s voice butts in.
Strike when we’re completely ready,Matteo’s voice concludes.No rushed moves.
I consider all three perspectives, weighing them against what I think is right.
“As soon as possible,” I decide. There’s immediate murmuring. “Look, we need to get final intelligence gathering and positioning, but not so much time that word might leak. Plus, when the smoke clears, the other families will spend their Sunday morning realizing that the DeLuca family is not to be fucked with.”
The room erupts in approving murmurs and smiles. These are people who understand violence as a tool of policy, and they recognize that this is a good fucking plan.
If I wasn’t in a room full of dangerous men and women I would pat myself on the back.
As the meeting breaks up and people begin filing out to handle their assigned preparations, Matteo approaches me. His expression is complex—pride, concern, and something that might be wonder all mixed together.
“You know,” he says quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone, “watching you take command like that…it reminds me why I never doubted you were my daughter.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at the compliment. I’ll never get sick of Matteo praising me. “Even after everything I’ve learned about where I really came from?” I ask.
“Giuseppe may have contributed DNA, but I’m your father,” he corrects firmly, his blue-gray eyes intense. “Iraised you,Itaught you,Iloved you every day of your life. You’re not his daughter—you’re mine. And watching you become the leader you are now, that’smydaughter, not his.”
The voices are silent, which almost amuses me. Cat got your tongue, Giuseppe and Sophia?
“Thank you,” I tell him simply, because there’s too much emotion in my throat for longer sentences and I really don’t feel like crying in front of everyone. Christ, how embarrassing would that be?
He clasps my shoulder briefly, the gesture carrying years of love and support. “Two days, then we find out if the DeLuca family is ready to rule New York completely.”
“We already rule New York,” I correct him, my lips curving into a smirk. “We’re just going to make sure everyone else remembers it.”
As he walks away, I turn to find Alessandro watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“So,” he says, moving closer to me as the room empties around us. “How did the voices handle their first real strategy session?” he asks in a low voice as he takes my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles.
I smile. “They behaved themselves. Each one contributed what was needed when it was needed. No fighting, no chaos.”
“And how do you feel about what we’re planning?” His eyes search my face, looking for any sign of doubt or moral conflict.
We feel unified,all three voices say simultaneously, and blessedly they’re in complete agreement.
“I feel like we’re about to show New York what happens when you mess with the DeLucas,” I tell him, and I can feel my smile getting kind of scary. “Dominic wanted to see what I was really made of. Well, in two days, he’s going to find out.”
“All of New York is going to find out,” Alessandro agrees, and his own smile carries the promise of violence to come.
Saturday night can’t come fast enough.
25
