Murmurs ripple through the room. He lets them.
“Chicago,” Giovanni goes on, “is available. The South Side, to be specific. The entirety of it can be taken under consideration in a number of years, provided you behave yourselves.”
That gets their attention.
Bodies lean forward. Brows lift. The room inhales as one.
“I am willing,” he says, “to grant La Fratellanza Nera operational control over specific sectors. Logistics. Distribution. Enforcement within defined boundaries.”
A pause, and I know every last one of themisholding their breath.
“Under Dragoni oversight.”
The scepticism is immediate.
One man scoffs. “You expect us to believe this is generosity.”
Giovanni’s gaze sharpens. “You don’t deserve generosity from me and you will not get it,” he replies. “This is structure. Rare opportunity.”
Another man leans in. “And if we refuse?”
Giovanni smiles then, slow and deliberate. “Then you will force me to remind you why my name is spoken quietly.”
Silence settles, thick and absolute.
I feel it then, the clarity blooming in my chest as I watch them weigh his words, not as a threat, but as an inevitability. He’s not offering them Chicago because he must. He’s offering it because once they accept, they’ll need him to keep it.
They will depend on Dragoni protection, Dragoni logistics, Dragoni restraint. And dependence, Irealise, is the most elegant leash of all.
The head of the table finally speaks. “And your wife,” he says carefully. “Her position?—”
Giovanni does not hesitate. “She’s more than my wife. She’s myDonna. And should it need clarifying, that means she’s double untouchable,” he says flatly.
A few men exchange looks.
Giovanni’s hand tightens around mine. “Make no mistake, gentlemen, if someone disagrees then they will die,” he says. “And I will attend the funeral to piss on their graves.”
The room holds its breath and bodies shift in their seats. But even before quiet discussions start and then die just as quickly, I know they’re afraid. And they understand.
That no single man is willing to rise against Don Dragoni.
“Take the day,” Giovanni offers. “Hell, take the week. Come back when you’re ready to agree to my terms. Or don’t come at all.”
As the meeting draws towards its conclusion, agreements sketched in language that pretends this is business and not survival, I feel something settle inside me with quiet certainty.
And when we stand to leave, Giovanni doesn’t rush and he doesn’t look back.
He simply turns, my hand still in his, and walks out, leaving the world to adjust itself to his whim and terms.
In the car, the door closing with a soft, final sound, my breath leaves me in a rush IrealiseI was half holding.
Giovanni glances at me, eyebrow lifting. “You were very quiet.”
I look at him, my pulse still racing. “I was watching,” I reply honestly.
His mouth curves. “And?”
“And I understand now,” I say. “Why no one dares challenge you outright.”
