Dante and I don’t trade words; they’re unnecessary. We share like we always have on a level only he and I understand. Our chests rise and fall as one, our hearts beat in time.
“You’ll make the De Lucas proud, Valentine.” He kisses my forehead, but he stays close, the both of us needing more time with each other.
I feel his strength in my arms, and the look on his face mirrors mine. A wave of deep love for my brother is the push I need to break away and start what we’ve been planning for years.
Before I leave his space, I pull him close, so I can kiss his forehead. “Together, we will make our family proud. Or we die trying.”
Our wife clears her throat, and my brother and I twist together to look at her, but her gaze moves from Legos, who’s lingering in the shadows, to Claudia and Vivian standing nearthe front door. My wife actually scares me with the way she looks at the women so belligerently.
Dante walks to Legos, Matteo lets the dogs out of the back of the car, and we move only when Dante is back. We walk past the small crowd already gathered, awaiting entry. I make a point of shaking hands with some of them, and others, I ignore.
After we walk through the doors, we leave them shut because, before I let our guests in, I want to show Layne a few things for the event I insisted upon.
The foyer resembles a florist shop. Massive vases of white lilies and orange blossoms, another Sicilian tradition, are everywhere. Along with picture stands, holding framed family photos of my parents, Matteo’s mother, and Nonna. There’s a collection of other photos, too, important ones that Vitale has purposely veered away from—like the reason he is in power.
My pack and I elected to include photos of the head of the entire Cosa Nostra, along with other people of importance because they are…important and deserve respect.
Vitale clearly hasn’t been in the foyer yet, or Legos waited until he did a final check, but there are no photos of any Gambrillo or Valhesse on display. Only the De Lucas and those of real influence in our world.
A blinding smile breaks over Layne’s face. She walks up closer to the images of our parents on their wedding day, seeing for herself the tribute we paid to our father by designing our tuxedos on what he wore. The pearl necklace my mother wore in the photo is in my hands to pass over to Dante, so when Layne turns to speak, my brother is already there.
“I always thought my mother was the most beautiful woman, but sorry, Momma, if you’re watching, my wife took your place and healed my heart in the process. Wear these for us,il mio tutto? In memory of where we came from and where we’re going.”
Layne’s eyes twinkle with unshed tears, but she blinks them away as he secures the strand behind her neck. She’s back in his arms the moment the clasp clicks locked, leaning up for a quick kiss before rushing to Matteo. And ending up in front of me.
She leans up to my ear, her voice like a quiet breath. “Let’s skip to the good part. Don’t wait for speeches, please. I need you…”
Approaching footsteps, along with the unmistakable sound of Vitale’s wheelchair, cut her off. She leans in for another kiss, clicks her fingers for the dogs to heel, and Dante pulls the front doors wide open.
The foyer is half full by the time Vitale gets wheeled through, so he can’t do anything about the expansive photographic tributes without looking like a dickhead.
There has never been any secret who our parents were, and it is customary to display photos of those you love and respect, if they can’t make it. Regardless, when no one is watching, he makes his displeasure known.
Once the initial rush of guests flows toward the room where dinner will be held, and Vitale’s ego has been adequately stroked, I wheel him to take position at our table. The whole time, he waves to his most loyal while he quizzes me again on Diego and Rosa’s disappearance.
The intel he’s received so far has been staged by us. Since it’s getting filtered through the streets as well, the rumor Diego and Rosa have disappeared because of a soured deal linking back to the Bratva, Vitale has no choice but to believe even more of his trusted family friends are turning on him.
“Tomorrow, I want you here early. Without your whore,” he barks angrily. “I can’t name my successor until there is more stability.”
“We will deal with the traitors, Vitale, I promise you that.” I should have been a fucking actor with the solemnness I infuseinto my words. But I’m not lying, which makes my pledge so much more believing. I’m just not talking about who he thinks I am. I’m talking about him and everyone else on our kill list.
As I sit next to Layne when the speeches start, she toys with her food, looking like a nervous, and excited, bride. We already decided to eat nothing, since the risk of poisoning was too great today. Layne only sips on drinks our pack has poured.
She is as safe as can be.
Just because we’re being careful doesn't mean other guests take the same precautions. By the time the platters of Sicilian delicacies have been cleared, the low dose of Xanax we diluted into the Chianti being served to a few of our guests is starting to make even the most devout of Vitale’s supporters doe eyed. We ensured the dosage wasn’t enough to have anyone questioning if they were drugged, and coupled with the volume of alcohol being served, people have a plausible excuse. Still, some of his guards are certainly drugged.
During the main course, a stream of guests paying respect to my pack, and also Vitale, starts. Their congratulations provide enough of a distraction that, when new waitstaff start circulating the room, no one notices the subtle shift in dynamics.
At Vitale’s first opportunity, he takes the limelight, using the microphone we had positioned within reach. It was a prop, made to look like it was for us, but we knew he would be the one to use it. He snaps his fingers at Dante for him to pass it over.
Leaning over Layne, I kiss her cheek before kissing her wedding and engagement ring. But like everything we have done since arriving, it’s a ruse. There's a hidden message in every action we do.
When I rise to my feet, Dante and Matteo follow me. We take a step and surround our wife. Which is customary when the speeches start, but today, we’re moving into position to shield her.
Vitale starts his overly emphatic and wheeze-laden speech of what a good person he has been toward us, considering the treachery of our parents. He nearly chokes on his words when he says he’s had the task of watching us grow into the men we are now.
I take a step closer to him, but because he’s prattling on to the crowd about what a good person he is, and droning on about his successes, he misses us drawing our guns. He only stops talking when Dante, Matteo, and I pull the trigger and end the lives of his most powerful allies.
