I hear a soft giggle behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know that Silvio is flirting with one of Caruso’s serving staff. He’s nothing but a playboy when it comes to women.
“Silvio,” Marco quietly warns.
I chuckle. “Let him be. You know how he is.”
Marco tuts with disapproval. “He’ll meet a woman one day who will keep him in line.”
“And give Silvio at least one son to name after Raffaello.”
Silvio and his brother, Raffaello, had been close, and his death still hurt deeply.
Marco hums in approval before he turns serious. “You’ll be expected to produce an heir.” My glass freezes as I lift it for another sip. “To secure the alliance with the Alteras.”
Taking a swallow of the liquor, it burns in an entirely new way down my throat. I grit quietly, “I know how these things work.”
I had stared at the photo again before coming here tonight, hoping that there might be some sort of physical response to Rosa Altera. But there was none.
Granted, it was only a picture. She’s a stunning woman, and likely in person, I would react to her.
Hopefully.
Vincenzo leaves his father’s side and crosses the large dining room, making his way toward us. The ornately carved table is decorated and set as if the king himself is coming. And in a way, I guess Emanuele is king; although, he doesn’t control or rule over any of the families, as all the ‘ndrinesare independent.
I eye Vincenzo as he approaches, keeping his father and Caruso in my line of sight as well.
“Looking good, Tommaso.” He smiles and nods at Marco. “Are you both keeping well? How are the American operations going?”
I shift my jaw in annoyance that he makes it sound like what we have here is just an extension of my father’s kingdom, like a colony that is ruled by the mother country. Which, essentially, it is, but I don’t need him to point that out and rub my face in the fact that I don’t have autonomous power.
“Your expansion and gaining territory all throughout California is impressive, Tommaso,” he says, almost like he’s trying to smooth the insult.
Vincenzo may come across as a gracious and benevolent man, but I know he’s a shark with razor-sharp teeth behind that smooth smile.
“Is Emanuele letting you finally have some leadership roles, given his heart condition?” I hit back with something I know he’s sensitive about.
Something that I might mistake as guilt if I didn’t know him better flashes over his face, but then it’s gone. He laughs deeply. “What do you think? The old man is a control freak and will outlive us all, I’m sure.”
One of the guards hurries into the room and goes to Caruso and whispers something in his ear. Fury flashes over Caruso’s face before he schools his features quickly and speaks to Emanuele before leaving the dining room.
Vincenzo is asking about the trouble with the port and the pressure from the Triads. At my look, Marco takes over and steers him to the table while answering his questions. I notice Guila is no longer in the room, and with everyone else occupied, I slip out and follow in the direction that Caruso went.
I keep my steps as quiet as possible on the marble floor. This place is like an overdecorated museum rather than a home. It feels staged and gaudy as hell, not warm and welcoming like how I envision my future home.
I actually do have a home here already. Years ago, my grandfather came to San Francisco with a vision similar to minefor the ports' opportunities for import and export, both legal and smuggling. He had bought a few lots in an affluent area and built a palazzo—a three-story stone mansion in baroque style, with high, dome-like ceilings and rows of columns. He secured the estate like a beautiful fortress. My grandmother hated the rainy season here, though, so they never fully implemented my grandfather’s plan. My father had no desire to carry on that plan, but he kept the house. So, when I moved here, I took over the house, had all the dust coverings removed, cleaned everything, and moved in. It’s way too big, though; bigger than any family would ever need with four wings. But I’ve always had visions of filling it with children as I build my own kingdom here, with sons of my own to help me lead and take over one day.
Which may be a problem if, when I meet my soon-to-be wife, my dick doesn’t even lift its head in interest.
Pushing away the thoughts of my impending marital predicament, I head toward the front entrance, hearing voices. When I arrive there, I stop and stare at the beautiful creature in a messy ponytail and sweatpants. She’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Light radiates from her, like she’s the sun.
But then Caruso slaps her, and I see red.
He.Hit. Her.
I’m across the room with the force of a hurricane as I barrel into Franco fucking Caruso and slam him into the wall.
A painting falls to the floor as I choke him. I’m fighting thelethalurge to kill this son of a bitch for touching her.
I know this is Gina. I saw her once when she was younger, and now, having heard her snarky reply of ‘Good to see you too, Dad,’ right before he hit her, confirmed it.
