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“Fine. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the Don. God forbid.”

“Come on, Gen,” Carmine says. He offers his own arm, and I can tell by the flash of her eyes that she’s realizing in this moment she’s too far gone to make it to the car on her own.

“You’re exactly like him, you know,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Exactly like him. The business is all that matters.”

Carmine takes her out. I watch them go, my sister leaning against the shoulder of the most loyal man I know, the gold light sliding off her ruined, beautiful face until the darkness outside of the casino doors swallows them.

Then I stand alone in the middle of my enemy’s territory, trying to put myself back together.

The game face goes on. I’ve worn it longer than I’ve worn anything else. Carmine soon returns.

“Sent her back in the car with the guys. They’ll have her home in a half hour. Told them not to let her leave.”

“Good.” I straighten my cuffs. “Let’s go and disappoint Mr. Ketch.”

Ketch is waiting for us in a private room done up like the rest of the place, all black lacquer and gold, a bottle of something expensive already open on the table. We’re on the top floor of the casino, the view expansive enough to see the glow of the Manhattan skyline far off in the distance.

Ketch is a lean, gray, lawyerly creature, Luca’s counselor and mouthpiece, the kind of guy who says terrible things in a smooth, polished voice. He doesn’t stand when I enter.

“Mr. Accardi.” He gestures at the chair across from him as though it’s his to offer. “Welcome.”

I say nothing, making my way to the center of the room.

He stays seated. “Sit. Drink. We’re all friends.”

“We’re not.” I sit, but I don’t drink. Carmine takes up a position by the door. “But you know that already. Say what Luca sent you to say, Jack. I have a long night ahead of me.”

He smiles a slick car-salesman smile. “Mr. Santini wanted me to extend, first, his congratulations. Word is the elders convene soon. A new Don formally. It’s a great moment for your family.” He pauses, then adds, “Such as it is.”

“Such as it is.”

He turns his glass slowly on the lacquer table. “It’s no secret the Accardi operation isn’t what it was under your father. You run things, but without the title, your territories run loose. Bad for order. Bad for business.”

“Get to the point.”

“Mr. Santini is prepared to be generous. Quietly, before the elders sit down, Mr. Santini absorbs the waterfront, the Sutphin operations, and the three clubs in the east that have been, let’s say, underperforming under your stewardship.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “And what do I get out of giving Luca such a gift?”

“Easy. You walk into that room as a Don who consolidated before taking the reins, with a gesture of goodwill toward your biggest competitor. Successions are bloody, Enzo. Luca’s doing you a favor, really.”

The audacity of it is almost magnificent. He’s asking me to hand Luca a third of the family holdings, gift-wrapped, and to thank him for the privilege of looking competent while I do it.

“And if I decline this generosity?”

“Then you walk into that meeting as a man who couldn’t hold what his father left him.”

“You’re assuming I won’t be able to hold my own territories.”

Ketch smirks. “Like I said, successions bring chaos. Some of your territories are already on the brink. All it would take is a little push.” He nudges his glass toward the edge of the table with the tip of his finger. “And they might fall into other hands.”

“So, it’s a threat.”

“Not a threat, just a suggestion of possibility. And it’s not just the territories. Your sister. Genevieve, is it? Let’s just say she has her troubles. And she lacks the discretion not to gamble at our tables. Nothing about your position projects strength. Strength is what the elders look for. They want to be sure the Camorra is in good hands. The last thing they want is the most powerful family in the city in the hands of someone who overestimates his own abilities.”

I reach across the table, close my hand around the back of his neck, and bring his face down to the black lacquer. Not hard enough to break anything. Just hard enough that his cheek is flat against the table, an inch from the glass he was so proud of nudging.

Carmine doesn’t move from the door. Nobody else in the casino would dare.