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I remember it then, the meeting coming to mind.
FORTY-ONE
-Lilah-
I’ve been in the room once before—for that first family meeting I was a part of—but this time, I’m not dressed to kill.
I’m dressed to rule.
A tight, long-sleeve red shirt tucked into tight dark jeans, a pair of simple heels, and my gun is in the waistband at my back. Instead of my hair being down and pretty, trying to win over the men, it’s pulled up into a high pony, my face free from any strands. Simple makeup, red lips.
The St. Christopher out, the metal warm on my skin.
And most importantly, my wedding band on the correct finger, the ostentatious engagement ring on top of it.
And Dante at my side.
The family is here—Dante’s men, Paulie’s men, the men who were once Carmine’s and Tony’s.
And now, my men.
Marco stands next to Sal Conte and Alfredo Russo, who are in attendance at my insistence.
It’s happening now.
“What’s going on?” Jason asks, and I turn my head to him, staring at a man I could see as a friend. A brother.
I don’t hesitate, don’t mince words.
“Dante and I are married.” A whisper of shock runs through the room, through the men, and it’s interesting to watch the reactions.
Marco is stone-faced.
Alfredo smiles.
Tino’s eyes go wide, the look almost humorous, like we completely blindsided him.
A few men share the look, though most are a bit more subtle, but some . . . Some look like they had a suspicion confirmed. Or like things just make a little bit more sense.
Dario is one of them.
Jason is another.
“I came to Jerzy Girls about six months ago with the intent of taking down the Carluccio family and proving myself worthy of heading the Russo family.” My eyes meet Sal’s as I say that, and he gives me a small smile, tipping his head in my direction. A tiny acknowledgement, an apology of sorts. “Eventually, Dante and I formed a connection and realized we had a similar goal.”
“So Dante wants to take down the Carluccio family?” Vinnie says, outrage tinging his voice.
“I want to bring this family back to the glory it once held,” Dante says, staring him down. “Hudson City once held this family in high regard, not because they feared us, but because for as much shit we did, we gave back. We helped the community, made it a good place to be. We were a part of it, not a negative aspect of it.” There’s an expectant silence the carries through the room as Dante makes eye contact with the men one by one. He’s about to speak again, but Silvero does.
“I remember those days. Back when Anthony was in charge. It was good. We all made money, were comfortable, but there weren’t RICO charges breathing down our necks. We didn’t have people whispering every time we walked into a restaurant.”
“It was easier. Had time for family, and the family was more . . . familial,” Martino, one of the older made men, says, agreeing.
“Okay, but what the fuck does this all even mean?” Tino asks, and I smile at him.
“It means that back then, it was all for one and one for all. The power was more equal. It was less of a dictatorship. Men weren’t disappearing just for disagreeing with the Don.”
Glances are made and met among the men.
