1
ISABELLA
I was raised to be seen and not heard. It’s insulting except for moments like this when I hear my father’s voice drifting from his study.
There’s been a lot of tension from him and my brother since whatever they’d planned with the Bratva against the Dantes failed.
I stop outside his study, ear pressed to the door.
"The Dantes are vulnerable," Father says. "Ever since Lorenzo's death. Alessandro is trying to hold it together, but he's stretched too thin."
“They were able to dismantle the Bratva and kill the Vasiliev brothers,” my brother, Enrico, reminds my father.
“And they lost a lot of men doing it. Now is the time to strike. We've waited decades for this opportunity."
I’m aware that my father has coveted the Dante territory for a long time.
I remember hearing that Don Lorenzo Dante had been killed, and my father saw it as a sign to strike.
While he says the new Don isn’t as capable as Lorenzo had been, he’s proven more difficult to defeat than my father seems to want to admit.
“What about Luca?” my brother asks of Don Dante’s brother.
“He’s in Chicago. Has his own business. Didn’t even show up to help Alessandro with the Bratva. We still have Adriano to contend with, but he’s distracted with his wife. No, it’s Alessandro we need to focus on. He's carrying the entire Dante empire on his shoulders."
I don’t understand men and their obsessive need for power.
Is it insecurity?
It makes no sense to me that men clobber each other in bloody battles and violent vendettas, all stretching back generations, just for power and money.
It’s Medieval.
“True, but we need to be careful. His defeat of the Bratva proves that. A defeat we were supposed to help him deliver, but instead, we double-crossed him.”
I press my ear closer to the gap, my curiosity piqued. This is news to me.
Father grunts in reluctant admission. "The council still brings that up in every meeting. We lost seventeen men that night. They want us to forge a truce."
"Alessandro won’t forget that we tried to form an alliance with him and then turned on him. He’s not likely to hear us out. Iheard he sent the head of one of Ivan’s messengers back to him when Ivan tried to force his hand.”
I cover my mouth to stifle a gasp. The Dantes' reputation for brutality isn't exaggerated, it seems.
“Whose side are you on?” Father snaps at Enrico.
“Our side, of course, but I’d like to live to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We’d be wise not to underestimate Alessandro.”
"So, what do you suggest?" Father's voice carries a dangerous edge that makes even Enrico tread carefully.
"The council is right," Enrico says. "We should strike a truce, perhaps even an alliance. Alessandro is dangerous, but he's also pragmatic. With the Bratva fractured, he needs allies."
Father makes a dismissive sound. "You want me to extend an olive branch to a Dante?"
"I want us alive, Father. The elders are rattled. They remember the last war with the Dantes. They know how Alessandro has successfully dismantled the Bratva. They don't want another bloodbath."
A long silence follows. I imagine Father drinking his whiskey, contemplating his options. “As you said, they’ll dismiss any overtures we make by sending the messenger’s head back to us.”
“Didn’t the elders suggest merging the families? Isabella is eighteen now.”
