“It’s a lie,” I state. It must be. “He’s trying to lure us into a place of vulnerability to attack since he hasn’t been successful this far at starting a war.”
Before he can respond, however, the doors to the office open. I whirl around, half ready to tear into whichever staff member has had the unfortunate luck to interrupt this meeting. It’s not one of the Luciani staff, though. It’s Otello. He nods my way as he slips quietly inside and then takes up residence against the wall, hands clasped behind his back and eyes forward.
Shit.I’m strung tight and ready to fucking pop a blood vessel. Rolling a hand down my face, I return to the seat I was in and lower myself back into it. Dante lumbers away from his perch against the far wall’s windowsill and moves to stand in the middle of the room.
“I’ve done my research on the man,” he announces. “After what happened to Isa, we felt it was necessary to look into everything.” He grimaces before glancing my way. “I am sorry, brother, but I think Cesari may be right.”
“What?” I nearly burst out of my chair once again, but a sharp look from Don Luciani has me gritting my teeth and sitting back down. I turn my glare on my brother. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Dante sighs. “We discussed the possibility that someone at the wedding killed Isa,” he reminds me before turning his attention to our father. “And only members of our organization or people we trust were invited to that.”
My eyes dart to Don Luciani, but his expression remains flat and even. He’s had decades to perfect his expression when dealing with issues such as this.
“Suffice it to say, I have struggled in digging up the truth behind either Isa’s murder or Daisy’s almost murder, but—” He takes a long breath. “I don’t think Emilio Cesari had a hand in either—at least, not on purpose.” Shock sinks into me, but he continues before I can say anything. “It’s true that Vito Cesari died under odd circumstances. The reports I uncovered said a heart attack, and it could be true, but there was contradictory information on the documents I found. Different times of death. Different doctors’ reports. However, one thing is clear—Emilio Cesari is well respected by a good portion of the Cesari Syndicate.”
Narrowing my eyes on Dante, I lean forward in my seat. “What if the information you’ve found was planted?” I demand.
Dante’s upper lip curls back, and if looks could burn, the one he gives me would sear the hair off my scalp. “Don’t insult me, G,” he snaps. “I know when someone is trying to fuck with my information.” My leg starts to bounce on the floor. Dante returns his gaze to our father. “I think Emilio might be doing the one thing Vito Cesari never would have even considered.”
Don Luciani arches one dark gray, bushy brow. “That is?” As if he doesn’t know.
Fuck, I don’t want to hear Dante say it. Were I to removemyself from my current emotions—and the rage that blossomed after seeing Cesari standing so close to Daisy, within killing range—I would recognize that I’m acting more than a little out of control. The thought of giving that man any leeway, however, when I’ve seen them together—even with only one hand free, he could’ve easily snapped her neck—grates on me.
I recognize the emotion as one I haven’t felt in a long-ass time. It’s fear. The old, ugly emotion is all I feel.
Maybe I should give her a divorce, I think suddenly.Daisy doesn’t belong in this world. She’s better than all of this, and no amount of money can protect her from dying if she gets caught in the crosshairs.My hands curl into fists against the arms of the chair. Another voice riots against that better half of myself.Mine!it screams.She’s mine, and I will slaughter anyone who takes her from me.
“—lio, are you listening?”
Jolting, I look at Dante, who’s now scowling at me from the center of the room. “No, I was—” I wave a hand and realize it’s shaking. I put it down immediately. “Continue,” I say instead, nodding to him
He doesn’t, though. Instead, Don Luciani speaks. “I understand your concerns,” he tells us. “But I’ve made my final decision. We will meet with the Cesari head.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
He doesn’t flinch at the harshness of my voice, but I notice that Otello does out of the corner of my eye. Don Luciani levels me with a hard gaze. “You will do well to remember your manners in my house,boy.” His voice is low, deep, vibrating in that lethal way that would have the child who first met him quakingin his shoes. Now, it slides down my spine like a blade of warning. “I understand your concern for your wife, but I will not tolerate disrespect from my men and certainly not from my sons.”
Dipping my head in acknowledgment of his words, I manage to grit out an apology in his native Italian. When that’s done, and I lift my head once more, he nods his understanding before speaking again.
“Daisy will be safe here with Bianca,” he declares. “In fact”—placing one hand on the surface of his desk and gripping his cane with the other, Don Luciani stands up from his seat. The end of his cane slams into the floor with a hardclack—“I suggest she stay here for a time. Bianca will look after her. In the meantime, you”—he points to me—“will set up a meeting with the head of Cesari. Tomorrow afternoon. A place of our choosing.”
I stand from my chair and meet his eyes. “I will follow your orders,” I tell him, “but I do not agree with this.”
Don Luciani circles the desk with slow, deliberate steps. I remain still as he moves toward me, his limbs practically creaking with age. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s right before me, and for the first time in a long time, I realize just how much he’s shrunk. He used to be so large to me, a massive wall of protection who always looked out for me even when I didn’t know it.
“I know you do not agree,” he says, clamping both hands atop the wolf’s head, “but you will do this anyway, for me.”
I grit my teeth and lower my head. Yes, goddamn it. I will.
“This will be my last act as head of the Luciani Family,” he states with a cool tone that betrays nothing of what he must be feeling as he says the words. My head snaps up, and in myperiphery, I see Otello sway forward, away from the wall, in shock. Not Dante, though. The careful mask that cloaks his emotions tells me all I need to know—he already knew this was coming. He didn’t fucking tell me.
“Otello will stay here with the girls,” Don Luciani states. “He and Alonzo will remain behind for protection to ease any of your concerns, my son.” Don Luciani’s eyes meet mine. “It is time,” he continues, “for the next head to step into place. I find that I wish to enjoy my retirement without the hassle of work.” His attention moves to Dante. “Dante’s always been my heir.” Back on me, the burn of his focus makes my body go rigid. “But you, Giulio, you are meant to be his right hand and consigliere. You’ve done everything I’ve asked. Now, it’s time for both of you to step into those roles.”
I bow my head as if I’m in the presence of a great king. To me, that is all he will ever be. Don Stefano Luciani raised me from the gutter and gave me hope, a life, a family.
“My life is yours to command,” I answer Don Luciani, ignoring my own mental battle.
“Make the arrangement with Cesari,” he replies. “Let us move into the future.”
