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Roman cleared his throat.
“Why do I get the feeling you two know more than you’re letting on?” my father asked.
“Let me make a call. I think I may know where he is,” Roman said, standing.
“It’s important he’s here,” I said. “Critical, actually.”
He nodded and made the call. My father and I waited in awkward silence until Roman returned. Rainey knocked and entered with a tray holding a bottle of whiskey and several glasses. I poured for everyone and sent her to bed. She’d need to be up early to greet the remainder of our guests. It was only a few hours before they got here.
“I know who was behind things.”
My father drank his glass of whiskey then pulled the bottle over to pour a second.
“Isabella DeMarco and Dominic have been working together with Pagani’s son, Paul Jr. Luke was just the front man, acting on her behalf.”
“I knew that fucking bitch would be trouble. Only good DeMarco is a dead DeMarco,” my father said.
“That’s enough,” I said more calmly than I expected I could. “I called this meeting to put an end to this stupidity. This feud that’s torn your own family apart. When will it be enough for you?”
“When I’m dead.”
“Don’t push me.”
“Gentlemen, we’re on the same side,” Roman said, standing between us with a hand on both our shoulders. “I’m having someone pick Dominic up and bring him here.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He has a bar he likes to go to.”
Roman didn’t expound on that, and I left it alone.
“He’s got some explaining to do, that fucking bastard,” Franco said. “Cancel the meeting. I’ll deal with my son myself. You deal with the DeMarco cunt, and Pagani will deal with his son.” He rose to his feet. “I’m fucking tired. You called me here for this bullshit?”
“Sit down,” I spoke quietly, not rising but remaining where I sat, feeling more in control than I ever had in my life. I knew what I wanted, what I needed to do. It would all truly end tonight.
“Be careful, son,” he said, but he lowered himself back down into his chair.
“We’re dealing with this publicly. We’re forgiving what’s happened thus far and calling a truce.”
“You’re not boss yet, Salvatore. I decide, not you.”
“I already decided, old man. Let it be.”
“Franco,” Roman started.
My father kept his eyes on me, but listened.
“Let’s do this Salvatore’s way and end this. It’s grown too far out of proportion,” Roman said.
“And how do you propose to get Dominic to agree?” Franco asked.
That was where we were all at a loss. He couldn’t be given a property to manage, not as volatile as he was. He’d bring war wherever he went. He needed to be controlled, but I didn’t know how. I was truly at a loss when it came to Dominic.
“I will talk to him,” I said. I’d give him one more chance, talk to him like maybe I should have been talking to him all along. Maybe he’d have come to me five years ago when he was in trouble if I’d been a better brother to him.
By the time Dominic arrived, it was almost five o’clock in the morning. He stank of liquor and stumbled in making a lot of noise, propped up by two men who worked for my father.
“You called, brother?”
The lids of his eyes were drooping, and the bruises I’d given him earlier had colored a dark purple.
“Summoning me to your grand estate?” he said, slurring his words as he gestured around the house.
“Get him in the fucking shower.”
“I’ll make coffee,” Roman said.
Marco had also arrived in the meantime, and men were being arranged throughout the property. We had about two hours before everyone would get here. According to Roman, Pagani Sr., wasn’t surprised by the call, which meant he’d already talked to his son. Good. The less surprises, the better.
Isabella was a different story. Roman had spoken with her and told her the reason for the meeting. Maybe it was vanity, a feeling of being acknowledged as head of the DeMarco family, because for all intents and purposes, she was. We just underestimated the DeMarco family’s level of activity. It was stupid on our part. Isabella would be here bright and early, as anxious as me to put this behind her, now that she realized what she could have lost.
I had Dominic taken to a bedroom downstairs, knowing he’d raise hell wherever he was just because he was Dominic and he was piss drunk. Roman remained with my father while I went to check on Dominic’s progress.
“You’re not boss yet,” was the greeting he threw at me when I walked into the bedroom.
“You at least smell a little better,” I said, tossing one of my dress shirts at him. “Put this on.” I’d changed too, wearing a suit minus the jacket.
