"Way I see it, Dad, is you wanted me to step up. This is me stepping up."
"And this is my family. I'm the head. I'm in charge, and you answer to me. You run shit like this by me."
"Well, maybe it's time that changed."
There's silence.
Then Dad explodes. "What the fuck are you talking about, Enzo?"
"I'm talking about me, running things. Time for new blood, old man. Either you step down and give me full control, or I walk away for good."
My father laughs. "You've hardly proven yourself capable of keeping Lourdes Mancini out of trouble, though fuck knows why you'd want to help her, let alone be capable of running a mafia empire."
I really don't want to run it. I don't want to be my father. I don't want all the things that truly go with this. But I'll take it if I have to and strip it for spare parts.
If I wanted to.
"You and I both know there's a reason you refuse to give up on the idea of me continuing your legacy, Dad."
My father barks out another laugh. "And what's that?"
"You already know I'm more than capable. And what's more, I'm capable in ways you aren't. I'm flexible, of the age. You're a dinosaur." And because it's a major flex, I keep going. "Think about it, old man, and then get back to me."
"Like hell?—"
"But don't take too long, or I'll make that decision for you. And I don't think you'll like it."
I disconnect the call and down my next drink.
Shit, that felt fucking good.
I do some more work, and then, everything in me still buzzing, I take my garbage down to the kitchen.
Lyndall's not in there, but she's also not finished with her food as it's still out, mostly gone, but there's also a half-drunk glass of soda.
With a sigh, I step on the pedal to open the garbage can, and I mourn my once clean counters.
I know I'll have to clean up later, after her. But I don't care. I'm fucking flying on giving it to my father.
Damn, if I knew it'd be that good, standing up to him, I'd?—
What. The. Fuck.
Someone has thrown some stuff out. And I vaguely remember, it's garbage day tomorrow.
My mood goes flat, heavy, sinking down.
I reach into the bin and pull the stick out.
I know what it is.
Though I've never had a chick check before, mostly because I don't tend to go bareback.
Except with Lola. And I probably need to rectify that. Because...
This isn't the cleaner's.
Shit.
