“You stink.” Don Gaspare Morelli tied his robe over his lean belly before reaching for the fridge door. “Beer? Coffee? Wine?”
“I’m good.” I shifted. My socks were damp, which made the tile floor feel colder. “Grazie, signore.”
“Niente.” Don Morelli cracked a cap off a bottle, took a long gulp, and winced. “My wife’s been buying this low carb crap. What’s the point of having beer if you don’t have the good stuff?”
My lip twitched ever so slightly. That man would drink his own piss if his wife told him it was good for him.
“Well? Let’s have it.” The don came back to the L of the counter and faced me.
I explained as briefly as possible my evening.
The sober brown gaze flicked over me. “Have you been by Joey’s place yet?”
I frowned. “No, why?”
The don took a sip of his beer. “You rushed into a burning building after a firebomb, ragazzo.”
“I’m fine.”
The don hummed. “I want Doc to look at you. Smoke inhalation is a rotten business, and I can’t lose my best soldier over something stupid.”
And that right there was why I would never take this man’s crown. I might be the son of a capo and therefore have a higher position than other Made Men, but even if I was one of the grunts, the don would have said the same thing. He cared about each and every last one of his soldiers.
“I’ll stop over. Anything else?” I shifted my weight again.
The don’s eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something.”
Cavolo, he was good. “It’s a private matter.”
A salt and pepper brow arched.
It was clear I wasn’t getting off that easily.
“You woke me up, and now you’re running off again. Where?” he demanded.
I pursed my lips. It wasn’t as if the secret would stay silent for long. Eventually, he would know—everyone would know.
“I have a bride to collect.” I braced myself for his reaction.
Don Morelli let out a low whistle, tipped his beer back, and drained it. “It’s not one of Deluca’s girls, is it?”
Porca miseria, the horror. “Hell no.”
“Good,” the don snorted. “I’m going to have to find husbands for those girls one of these days, and that’s not going to be an easy matter.”
There were a handful of girls, who were almost of marriageable age. And there were a handful of younger sisters growing up, waiting their turn. I almost felt badfor them. Almost. But Cristiano and I both escaped the fate of being tied to one of the daughters of the other Morelli capo. Yet another reason I liked the don. He hadn’t forced my father to bind his sons and keep the blood thick between the capos.
“Stop by Joey’s. I want him to have a look at you,” the don ordered, pointing his bottle at me. “And then, once it’s settled, bring your bride over some Sunday for dinner, so I can greet her properly.”
“I will.” I went back to the sliding glass patio door and slid into my boots. “Buona notte, signore.”
“Buona fortuna, ragazzo.”
Chapter 15 – Amanda
I’m going to do it.
Pull the Band-Aid off! I poured the prosecco over the crushed fruit at the bottom of the flute. It would have been better if Steven arrived before popping the cork, but the longer I waited, the more my nerves got the better of me.
