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“They weren’t our men,” Sonny says with certainty.
I walk toward him. “How do you know?”
Sonny settles his cigar on an ashtray on the edge of my father’s desk. “We did a head count this morning. Not to mention, none of our men would do that without your father's okay.”
“Did Vinny get anokayfrom him before abducting Natalia?” I stare at Sonny with distrust. “And how long have you sat there, knowing this information, and not said anything about it toyour boss?”
“Since we weren’t involved, I didn’t find it important.” Sonny takes a hit from his cigar.
My father stiffens in his chair, and I wait for him to throw something at Sonny, reprimand him, punch him. He doesn’t.
“Not important?” I fume. “For all we know, the Marchettis assume we’re responsible.”
“The dead bodies aren’t our men.” Sonny shrugs again. “So it’s not our problem.”
I raise my voice. “You don’t think they’d consider we hired outside help?”
Sonny shuts his mouth, and it takes him a moment before he says, “I couldn’t personally care less if they think it’s us.”
“Do you want to die, you imbecile?” I clench my fists. “We need to reach out to the Marchettis, let them know it wasn’t us.”
“Since when are you pussy of the year, Antonio?” Sonny huffs out.
I storm across the room, snatch him by the collar, and lift him to the wall, clutching his throat. “A pussy?” I laugh cruelly in his face, spit flying from my mouth and landing on his cheek. “This is why you’re not next in line, you stupid son of a bitch. If I kill or shoot up a wedding, I’ll make it clear it was me. If I don’t, I’ll also make it clear it wasn’t me.” I release him with a shove. “Not to mention, they killed every man in that church. That’d make us look weak, you dumb motherfucker.”
Sonny heaves out breaths while straightening his suit.
“He’s right,” my father says.
Sonny shakes his head. “Maybe the family would’ve been better under Vinny’s control.”
“I can let you join Vinny if you’d like?” I raise a brow.
“You two are only hurting the family.” He waggles his finger between my father and me before storming out of the office.
“Look into this,” my father tells me. “I want every fucking detail.”
ONE WEEK LATER
“Tommaso Cavallaro is dead,” my father informs me when I walk into his basement, where Sonny, Nuncio, and he are seated around the poker table with cards in their hands.
“Good fucking riddance.” I sit down next to him, flip my Zippo lighter open, and watch the flame burn.
Tommaso was a fucking idiot, and he touched what’s mine when he danced with Gigi at the masquerade ball. He deserved to die.
Lately, it’s been a shit show within our family. It didn’t take long for me to gatherevery fucking detailof the Marchetti-Cavallaro wedding. Tommaso owed money to Sammie Karpenko, the city’s cruelest loan shark. I’m sure he’s the one who shot up Benny’s wedding and killed Tommaso after he didn’t pay up.
On top of that, I’ve been dealing with Sonny using my father’s failing health against him. The other day, he made a move against the Marchettis. He instructed two of our men to follow Benny home from the club and kill him. Both of our men died. Benny didn’t.
When I found out, Sonny insisted my father okayed it. And since we were surrounded by other men, my father agreedwith him, not wanting to appear incompetent. He either didn’t remember or knew admitting that Sonny went behind his back would make him look weak.
Later, Emilio told me in confidence that my father had told Sonny no, yet Sonny did it anyway. When I brought it to the attention of my father, he brushed it off. So I have to sit back while knowing Sonny is playing games with my father’s head. I’m close to snapping.
“That’s great news for us,” Sonny says, rubbing his palms together. “His death makes the Cavallaros weaker. No son to take over the family.”
I cringe, hating the sound of his congested-ass voice.
“His death also makes the Marchettis vulnerable,” he continues, grinning in delight. “Benny will be busy consoling hispoor wife. Every single one of them is in a moment of weakness. The perfect time to strike.”
