Chapter 20
Dante
As I pull through the compound gates, I fight to simmer my still-rocketing pulse. During the commute, I try to untangle my thoughts, which were a mess from my confrontation with Edoardo before my bad display of sportsmanship with Lucia and Camille at the diner doubled them.
It’s a woeful waste of time.
I didn’t mean to go into the diner so arrogantly, but my mind was reeling.
Lucia is married.
If that isn’t bad enough, she’s matrimonially tied to a shitkicker of the Cosa Nostra.
Your position on the ladder doesn’t matter. Just being on a rung introduces rules that can’t be ignored.They’re the rules I’m trying to alter, but my goal was to have them changed by the time Camille was of age. Now the timeline is extremely rigid.
I don’t handle stress well, especially when most scenarios point to me disappointing my daughter.
As I enter my family home, I hear shouting coming from the study. When I walk in, four pairs of recognizable eyes lock on me. Giovanni isbehind the desk, Matteo paces back and forth, and Nico and Elio lean against the only solid wall with their arms crossed, bracing for impact.
I don’t pretend I don’t know what’s lit a match under their asses.
“A twenty percent stake in Caruso Holdings isn’t unreasonable.”
Matteo ceases pacing, and Nico and Elio lift a brow, but Giovanni’s expression doesn’t alter at all.
He isn’t called the silent assassin for no reason.
Edoardo didn’t give me a figure to stay out of Lucia’s life. He gave me a percentage.
I almost gutted him on the spot for even insinuating he was entitled to something he hadn’t earned. Then I realized twenty percent for the privilege of keeping Lucia safe from predators like him is a small sacrifice to make.
I’d give every last cent if it would stop me from breaking the promise I made to Camille when I said it wouldn’t be long before Lucia came home with us.
Giovanni’s exhale is laced with disappointment rather than anger. “Twenty percent is more than any of us have.” He waves his hand between the five of us. I open my mouth, but he lifts a hand, cutting me off. “Our shares are split with our father.” His words are primed with the patience only he can manage during a crisis. “When he passes, his portion will be divided among us. Only then will we hold an equal share to what you’re proposing we hand to Edoardo fucking Cordoza on a silver platter.”
I grit my teeth. “I know the numbers. I’m not stupid.”
“No one said you were stupid,” Nico mutters, though his tone suggests he believes otherwise.
Giovanni slouches back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “This also isn’t about numbers. It’s about who you’re inviting intoourbusiness. Edoardo isn’t a man we want near our holdings. He still follows practices even our ancestors abandoned decades ago. That’s why he has nothing, Dante, and why he’s desperate to grab something he hasn’t earned.”
Matteo backs him up, shifting from foot to foot since standing stillis impossible for someone as forever agitated as him. “He doesn’t want our money. He wants a share of the Caruso influence for the rest of its existence. He wants a permanent seat atourtable.”
“And with that seat comes a heap of power someone like Edoardo canneveryield.” Giovanni locks his eyes with mine, his tone hardening. “We’re trying to make things better for our women and children. Edoardo’s logic doesn’t align with our values. He’ll make them worse. Is that what you want, Dante? Do you want to make things harder for Camille?”
“Of course I don’t want to make things harder for her.”
“Then what is this about?”
I drag a hand through my hair, frustration burning through me. “I… I...” I’ve never been lost for words, but now I can’t find the right ones no matter how hard I dig through the slosh in my head.
“Oh shit.” Matteo groans, his head flopping back as he peers at the ceiling. “Papa was right. When one of us falls, we all fucking follow.” When Nico and Elio glare at him, lost, he thrusts his hand at Giovanni, who grins like a cat staring at an empty bowl. “Why are you looking at me? That fucker started the avalanche.”
Giovanni puts the debate to bed. “That was dumbass’s way of saying he believes Dante is in love.”
Love?
“I’m not in… That’s not what this is about… I…” Again, I have nothing, so I settle for “Shut the fuck up, Matteo. Or I’ll step back and watch you fall without one bit of advice on how to get back up undusted.”
