The big man Matteo glares back at him. “Don’t you test me, you old fuck. I’ll come over here?—”
“Please,” Stellan says, his voice low and booming. The men all look at him, but the bickering stops.
Now I see why he’s desperate to become the Don. If this “council” is running things, I suspect not much is getting done. They’re probably busy fighting each other all the time. There are seven men in total, eight including Stellan. That’s a lot of ego to deal with.
Stellan gestures at me. I risk a glance around again before bowing my head respectfully. “This is my future wife, Kira Santoro. We’ve agreed to a marriage, and I’m only here to present her, as requested. This council has asked certain things of me, and I’ve done nothing but accommodate you all. Now I’ve taken the final steps toward legitimacy.”
There’s a low murmur of assent. One of the men stands. He’s heavyset and has a gold chain around his neck. “Stellan, we appreciate what you’ve done here. It’s obvious you didn’t want to take a wife, but you listened and you made the right choice for the entire Famiglia. However, what I want to know is why this girl? Why not one of the girls we suggested from good families?”
I bristle at that. What the hell does this asshole know about me and my family? But maybe he’s got a point. My dad’s dead and my mom’s an addict. I’m not exactly high-class stuff.
“I appreciate your concern, Saverino, but Kira is the perfect choice. You all know what happened years ago with Bryan. You all were there and you remember how it hurt. Kira had nothing to do with any of it. I suspect she doesn’t even know what we’re talking about.”
I glance at him, heart racing into my throat. He’s right—I have no clue what the hell he’s going on about. Why’s he talking like he knew my father? That’s my dad’s name, Bryan, but he’s been dead for years.
“Even so, to bring a Santoro here, after all that happened—” Saverino sighs and gestures expansively. “It feels like an insult.”
“It is a fucking insult,” Turi snaps.
“Quit, you old cock.” Matteo waves a fist at him. “You closed-minded fuck.”
There’s more bickering and insulting. Stellan has to break it up again. I’d be surprised that these men could possibly run a powerful criminal empire at all, given how dysfunctional they are, but I’m stunned and my head’s reeling. Did they know my father? And if so, what happened that’s so important? They’re all acting like my last name is cursed.
It makes no sense. My dad was a nobody. He died in a car accident. At least, that’s what my mom said back then. I just always believed her. But what if she was lying?
Stellan finally gets their attention again. “My marriage to Kira Santoro represents a new chapter in the Famiglia’s future. The world is changing, gentlemen, and I plan on changing too. We are going to rebuild the Corsetti empire and redouble our strength, and I’ll start by giving the daughter of my old mentor a second chance.”
I step back, staring at him.Old mentor? What the hell is he talking about? My father wasn’t in the mafia… he was just an accountant… he wasn’t anything special…
But the more I think about it, the more I realize I have no clue what’s true or not.
Everything I know about him comes from my mother, and she’s far from reliable.
“It is what we asked for,” one of the men says. He’s narrow-faced and serious-looking. “He’s got a wife. Even if we don’t love her last name, nobody can deny the girl is beautiful. She’ll make good Italian babies at least.”
There’s a murmur of agreement.
If I weren’t already stunned, I’d take offense at them talking about me like I’m some high-class breeding dog.
“We move forward,” another man says. He raps a heavy gold ring on the back of a pew. A couple of the members look distinctly unhappy, most notably that Turi asshole. “Stellan has followed our orders. We have no reason to hold him back from ascension.”
“We’ll discuss it more,” Saverino says blandly.
“Discuss it fast.” Stellan meets their eyes proudly and boldly. “The Turks are coming. I’ve made it clear that the Vural Gang wants our territory. They sense weakness. The longer you hold me from my position, the more emboldened they’ll become.”
“The Turks aren’t a problem.” Turi spits on the floor and stands. “That Santoro bitch is.”
There’s another uproar. The old men shout more curses at each other. Stellan strides forward down the aisle and the bickering instantly stops when he looms over Turi. For a moment, nothing happens, until he rears back and slaps the old man across the face.
“Speak of my wife that way again and I will kill you.” Stellan says it very simply.
Turi looks like he wants to argue—but keeps his mouth shut when he meets Stellan’s gaze. Then he quickly looks down at the floor.
Stellan walks back to my side. There’s a deep hush and I get the feeling striking a member of the council is an extremely deep taboo.
“Five days,” Stellan says. “And then I wear my crown.” He takes my arm and pulls me away.
The church is stunningly silent as we retrace our steps back into the graveyard behind the building.
