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“That is a shame,” Fausto said, not sounding sympathetic in the least. I could see the edges of Zio Marco’s mouth twitching like he wanted to smile.
“It makes problems for me,” Buscetta said. “Which in turn could make problems for you.”
Fausto’s gaze was cold and flat. “Is this a threat?”
“Signori,” Borghese said. “Let us remain calm.”
“Why are we here?” Buscetta snapped. “This is a waste of everyone’s time.”
“We must settle this,” Virga said. “Make peace. Otherwise, we are in the newspapers with the Guardia di Finanza crawling up all our asses.”
“And what do you propose?” Fausto leaned back in his chair. “Because I am not changing the way I do business.” Meaning, he wouldn’t cut the Sicilians into the Ravazzani drug trade.
“Don Virga and I have discussed this,” Borghese said. “We would like to join the two families in marriage.”
Everyone froze. My mind started spinning. They couldn’t mean me. I was marrying Alessio. So, who were they talking about?
Fausto barked, “Absolutely not,” while at the same time Buscetta growled, “Fuck no.”
“We are not asking,” Borghese said, his voice as brittle as ice. “It is our job to see it settled and this is what we have decided. Neither of you have a choice. There will be a wedding between your two families. And we have just the bride in mind . . . .”
* * *
