Marcello's the oldest at twenty-six—working as a big shot lawyer in the city. Julian's twenty-two, finishing his MBA at Wharton. Dominic's the youngest at twenty, still at Oxford.
None of them look like they belong in this world. They are clean-cut with soft hands, and tech neck from leaning over computers all day.
Antonio kept them away from the business. Wanted them to have normal lives. It worked, mostly.
I have my suspicions, especially about Marcello, but I keep them to myself. Now isn't the time, and I don't like to ride people's assess for no reason. As long as he keeps his shit above board, he can do what he likes.
Besides, we aren't here for all that. We are here to say goodbye. To watch our father die. Now, is not the time to bring up bullshit.
"Saint." Marcello's the first to move, pulling me into an awkward hug. He smells like expensive cologne and paper. "How is he?"
"Dying."
Julian winces. Dominic looks away.
"I talked to him last month on FaceTime," Julian says, shaking his head. "He didn't look so bad."
"It's moving fast now. Spread to the brain. He refused treatment when he realized it wasn't buying him more than a year."
"Can we—" Dominic clears his throat. "Can we see him?"
"He's sleeping. Give him an hour."
They nod, and we stand there in uncomfortable silence. We're family, technically. But we don't know each other. Not really. Haven't since we were old enough to understand the family we were born into.
Antonio raised me to be a weapon. He raised them to be respectable.
"How are you holding up?" Marcello asks.
"I'm fine."
"Right." He doesn't believe me. "And Gemma, your wife? How's she doing?"
The concern in his voice surprises me. They've never met her. "She's...managing."
"It must be hard on her too. New family, new life, and now this."
I grunt noncommittally.
"We should do dinner," Julian suggests. "All of us. Before Dad—" He stops himself. "While we still can."
"Sure." I can't bring myself to tell them there's no fucking way their father can sit at a table.
More awkward silence.
"There's something you should know," Marcello says finally. "We've been getting calls. From the other families. Checking in. Asking about succession plans."
"Let me guess. They're concerned."
"They're circling." Dominic's voice is bitter. "Like sharks sensing blood."
"Let them circle," I say. "There's nothing they can do."
"Saint, they're serious. The Morozovs especially." Marcello lowers his voice. "There are rumors you're not ready, and I'm certain Alexei is the one spreading that shit around. He's telling people that without Dad, the family will fracture."
I think about Alexei at the club. His offer. His threats. The way he knew about Gemma and our operations against Adrian.
"The family is fine," I say.
