GIULIO
Life hack: Hit a man enough times, and he’ll stop talking. Put a bullet in his head, and he’ll stop talking even faster.
Killing people is easy. It’s keeping them alive that’s the hard part. No amount of self-control is enough for me as I stride through the double doors of an uptown brownstone. Elaborate crown molding graces the walls of the front foyer, and a short older man in a butler’s suit holds a silver tray like he’s from the Victorian era.
“Brandy, Signores?” he inquires, gesturing the tray forward.
Yeah, as if I’m going to drink anything here that I haven’t prepared myself. I stare at the liquid in the glass and feel my upper lip curl back over my teeth. I don’t trust Emilio Cesari, and I certainly wouldn’t put it past the Cesaris to poison my family and me when we’re here to discuss a potential truce. Didn’t Emilio’s uncle do something similar thirty or so years ago? It was far before I was inducted into the Luciani Family, but the whispers about the massacre of the Paladino Family still spread through the ranks even decades later.
“No thank you.” I wave the older man away and step toward the open doors that lead into a sitting room of sorts to the left of the foyer. The butler moves on to the men at my back, but I don’t worry about them. They know why we’re here, and they’ll be smart.
The sitting room is narrow and decorated in warm tones. Brownstones, though beautiful on the inside and out, aren’t built for larger men. The wide hearth that is the centerpiece of the sitting room rests beneath a stretch of mirror. When I glance into it, I note that I look just as enraged to be here as I feel. The control is slipping.
“Thank you for coming.” Emilio Cesari approaches out of a secondary room off to the right, and when I turn my head, I spy the long dining table set for six guests. My spine stiffens even as the sweet smell of tomato sauce and spices drifts from the half doors beyond the dining area.
“Are you expecting another party?” I inquire.
Dante shoots me a look as he shuffles around in front of me, no glass of brandy in hand.
Emilio Cesari tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
I gesture to the table at his back. “It’s set for six,” I point out. “Not four.”
“No,” he agrees, “not four.” Emilio doesn’t explain, instead offering a light smile. His control is making me vie for my own, and I find the struggle more difficult than it has ever been before. All I can see in my mind is how fucking close he was standing to Daisy. I remember the sharp bite of dread that sank to the pit of my stomach when I spotted the two walking alongside one another. One second is all it takes to lose someone.One second, they’re alive, heart beating, and the next, they’re nothing but fertilizer.
I never even took her on a honeymoon, I realize with no small amount of chagrin. Damn it. I should’ve at least offered. No doubt, growing up as she had, Daisy hasn’t ever gotten the chance to travel. Hell, I still have yet to tell her that her student loans are paid off. No matter what, she won’t have to worry about thousands of dollars of debt hanging over her head ever again.
“Where is Don Luciani?” Emilio asks as he rocks back on his heels, carefully slipping his hands into the pockets of the black slacks on his hips.
“He’ll be here in a bit,” I state. “The Don never travels with his heir.”
Emilio smirks. “Just like a king,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to lose both in one go.”
Dante scans the room, his head moving from side to side. Emilio might be young, but it’s obvious by the location that he’s just as aware of what he has to lose here as we are. His life. One wrong move, and neither Dante nor I would hesitate to put a bullet in his head. As if the bastard senses the direction of my thoughts, he lifts one hand out of his slacks and waves it my way.
“No weapons at the dinner table, unfortunately,” he says. “You’ll have to disarm.”
Both Dante and I go still, neither one of us daring to breathe. Then, slowly, I glance back to the men we brought with us—just two and myself for Dante’s protection—and back into Emilio’s eyes. “Our men will remain armed,” I tell him as I step towardthe doorway to the dining room. “But my brother and I will follow your request.”
Emilio’s smile doesn’t slip as he nods over to a table just inside the room upon which already rests a double set of Colts. My eyes scan over the guns, and a smile quirks my lips. The serial numbers are shaved off. Smart. Dante moves up to my side.
“I don’t like this,” he whispers as we remove our weapons. Two guns each and then a switchblade from both our pockets. I leave the one strapped to my ankle, though, just in case.
“We don’t have a choice,” I say, just as quietly. “Papáis determined.”
When we’re done, the two of us turn back to face our host. “There,” I say, spreading my arms wide and spinning slowly in a circle. “Happy?”
Emilio’s smile widens. “Yes, though the dramatics aren’t necessary,” he replies. “This isn’t a shitty movie.”
“Then why are you playing the clichéd villain?” Dante asks.
Before Emilio can answer, the doorbell rings. “Ah, that must be Don Luciani.”
In silence, the three of us listen to the front door being answered and the butler offering his brandy as he lets Don Luciani in. This time, he leads the man himself into the sitting room and toward the dining room. Only when I sense the other man’s presence do I finally look over at my father. He stands as tall as he’s able with both hands white-knuckling the head of his cane, and I’m struck with an urge to do violent, bloody harm to Emilio Cesari.
It was always my intention to allow Don Luciani to rest inhis later years, to do everything in my power to repay him for all he’s done for me, and now, this man is turning it into an impossible task. One wrong move from him—one fucking eyelash out of place—and it won’t matter that I’m not packing a gun. A knife is all I’ll need to kill, and ironically, the weight of it against my ankle is the only thing keeping me from launching into an all-out attack.
“Don Luciani.” Emilio nods, removing his one remaining hand from his slacks. It grates that even I have to admit that his tone is nothing but respectful. He turns and waves to the table. “Now that we’re all here, let’s sit and begin the meeting and meal.”
