“She’s not your business either.”
Rafiel’s face hardens with dislike.
“Rafiel, I thought you didn’t have a problem with me,” Lucy says.
“I don’t have a problem with you. I have a problem with Damiano. This meeting is bullshit. It’s obvious that Damiano is making a power play against his father and wants to drag us into it.”
“You think so?” Cristiano asks. He’s smiling, but it’s a cold, taunting smile. “Or maybe Damiano doesn’t go running for Daddy’s approval for every little decision he makes. That must be tiring when your father is in prison.”
“Fuck you,” Rafiel seethes.
This isn’t going down like I’d hoped. After so much bloodshed and animosity, maybe it’s too late for any amity between our families.
I hold up a hand before Rafiel and Cristiano can lunge over the table at each other. “Last time I checked, we don’t need our parents to drive us to playdates. I don’t have to get anyone’s permission on who I call my friends. I decide that for myself.”
“So you want us all to be friends?” Vincenzo asks, disbelief etched on his face.
“Friendship for our mutual benefit,” Lucy says. “A clean slate for the five of us without the mistakes our fathers made hanging over us. Openness and trust. Maybe we can start there.”
The men exchange glances. They seem doubtful, but at least they don’t get up and walk out.
“What does trust look like to you?” Rafiel asks us.
“Trust means open communication about the shit that’s going down in each of our territories,” I reply. “We help each other. No secrets.”
Rafiel’s expression darkens as if that’s already a deal-breaker. I wonder what secrets he’s protecting.
“Trust means no backstabbing,” Lucy adds.
“But I like stabbing,” Vincenzo deadpans.
She ignores his joke—at least I hope he meant it as a joke—and continues, “No seizing money, power, or territory from each other. We settle our disagreements with words, not bullets.”
Cristiano doesn’t move, but a muscle in his jaw subtly tightens. Rafiel and Vincenzo are trying to rebuild their devastated families and shattered trust. It’s going to be hard, but I think I understand them. Cristiano is the wildcard. I know little about the Montoni don and his ambitions, but if he’s anything like his scheming, murderous father, we’re all going to have a big fucking problem.
There’s a tense silence as we all look warily at each other.
Lucy sits up and puts her hands on the table, looking at each of the men in turn. “That’s something to work toward. How about we start with something simpler? What’s something theBarones can do for you? A show of good faith from me and my brother.”
Rafiel opens his mouth, hesitates, and then closes it again.
Interesting. He wants something from us, but he won’t ask. Because he doesn’t trust us? Or because he’s reluctant to expose a weakness?
Neither Vincenzo nor Cristiano say anything either.
“It’s something to think about,” I tell them. “We all have problems with the Sokolis and Dervishis that we’re dealing with. If you ever need the Barones’ help, I want you to ask for it. Meanwhile, let’s drink to peace and prosperity for our families.” I hold up my glass in a toast.
There’s a short silence, and then Vincenzo raises his beer bottle and says bitterly, “To our families. What’s left of them.”
Cristiano doesn’t miss the dig at his father’s misdeeds, but he raises his glass. “To our families.”
Rafiel shakes his head as if he thinks this whole meeting has been pointless, but he lifts his glass. “Sure. Whatever. Our families.”
Finally, Lucy’s glass joins ours. As reluctant as the toast is, at least we’re exchanging words and not more violence. It’s a small step toward a stronger Malus for all of us. A stronger position for me and Lucy within our family.
I start to breathe more easily. My heart even lifts a little.
A deafening crack shatters the air.
