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“I have my suspicions,” Cosimo said, posture suddenly going tight.
But before I could press him for details, someone was calling him over, needing to talk to him about something.
My gaze scanned the room, seeing a few people trying to catch my attention. I pretended not to see, weaving through the crowd, and making my way to the kitchen, where I found Miko pouring fresh coffee into an oversized carafe, then starting to make another pot.
“Go ahead, there’s plenty in there already,” he said, waving toward the stack of paper coffee cups. “Never got a chance to thank you for getting my cross back to me so quick,” he said. “Got a lot of sentimental value,” he added.
“Figured,” I agreed, holding down the button for the tap on the carafe, filling my cup.
“Know my brother still hasn’t kicked up what he owes you,” Miko said, giving me a tight nod, the tension clear in his features. Like this incident with the two dead bodies had caused a larger riff than seemed necessary.
That said, Miko was hungry. To rise up in the organization. To eventually get his own crew. To make a name and future for himself.
And having a little brother who you’d vouched for fucking up so royally so early on must have been putting a crimp in his plans.
“I’m not worried about it,” I said. “That was Lorenzo’s punishment, not mine.”
“It’s the point,” Miko insisted, turning the fresh pot on, then watching it drip.
“You want me to lean on him, I’ll do it,” I offered. “Everyone knows I’m a dick when I want to be. I don’t give a fuck about the money, but if he’s giving you a hard time…”
“Yeah, actually,” Miko said, nodding. “He knows Cosimo too well at this point to be too intimidated. But if you want to darken his door and put the fear of God in him, I wouldn’t be mad.”
“Got it,” I said, toasting him with my coffee, then making my way back out of the kitchen as Emilio tried to get people to shut the fuck up, so he could instruct them where he wanted them.
In the end, it wasn’t actually Emilio who got everyone to shut up. But his brother, Anthony, who, standing completely still in the dining room, somehow had his usual string of bad luck strike… as the goddamn chandelier came hurtling down, crashing into his shoulder.
“Fucking Christ,” Ant hissed, reaching to grab his shoulder as the chandelier slammed to the ground, the bulbs breaking.
“Yeah, that seems fitting tonight,” Lorenzo said, walking up to Ant. “You alright? Need Salvatore to take a look at it?”
“It’s alright,” Ant said, seeming more flustered than hurt, but when everyone looked away from him, he rubbed the spot, face contorted in pain.
Dunno what the fuck he did in a past life to get his kind of rotten luck, but he was definitely paying his karma back in this lifetime.
“Alright. I’ll deal with that after,” Lorenzo said, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miko already coming out with a broom and dustpan. “Come in here,” he said as he moved into the dining room.
It was a big table, but it only fit twelve people, and Cesare, Gavino, and their other three brothers were already seated.
I opted to stand, leaning in the doorway, feeling like this really wasn’t a meeting I likely needed to attend. But when everyone knew I spent a lifetime feeling on the outside of this Family, being included was a step in the right direction. So I needed to keep my head in the moment.
And not on the pants-free woman in my apartment. And all the things I wanted to do to and with her when I got home.
Lorenzo moved to the head of the table, Emilio at his one side, both of them masks of seriousness that had me standing straighter.
Lorenzo wasn’t the kind of leader who got worked up over the mini crises that came up when running a criminal empire.
The last time I’d seen him even remotely tense was when the news came out that my brother was arrested for murder.
He seemed even more worked up about whatever he was about to tell us now, though.
“Alright,” Lorenzo said when the last of the conversation died down, and he had everyone’s attention. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come out with it,” he said.
He took a step to the side, putting a hand on Cesare and Gavino’s oldest brother’s shoulder, fingers curling in. I couldn’t tell if it was support, or if it was to keep him in his seat.
Nico looked a lot like Cesare and Gavino, but older. His features more chiseled thanks to the additional years, and some gray streaking into his dark hair.
The kids of that family either had brown or dark blue eyes. Nico had the blue.
