Page 43 of Venomous Throne

Apparently, my idiot brother-in-law not only confronted Alessandro Mancini, but he did so at Corwin Blau’s jewelry store while the Blood King was shopping with his new wife.

“The Mancinis are livid,” Franky said warily. “If words gets out—”

“It won’t.” I grinned. No one would ever know that it was me whosuggestedMarco avenge his brother. And I certainly didn’t ask the idiot to attack the Blood King in public with his wife. That was a level of stupid even I couldn’t manipulate. Marco made his bed, and now he would lie in it until Kingdom Come.

I spent a moment wondering what Signora Mancini was like. It wasn’t long ago that Alessandro offered me the business proposition of taking his last name. Would she hate my guts if she knew? I banished that thought for a future problem. It was unlikely we would meet, and we certainly wouldn’t be friends.

“It’s time,” I said into the phone. “Gather the men.”

“When will you make the announcement?” Franky hedged.

I thought for a minute. My lips tipped up in a wicked smile. “Soon. Very soon.”

***

The cemetery sprawled across the hillside, grey headstones jutting from the earth like crooked teeth. A biting wind whistled through the oak trees as we gathered around Marco’s casket suspended above the freshly dug grave. The smell of wet soil and carnations hung in the air.

Father Donelli mumbled Latin prayers while making the sign of the cross, his words lost to most of the mourners. I stood at the front, playing the part of the grieving sister-in-law, dabbing at dry eyes with a white handkerchief. Franky positioned himself at my right shoulder, his presence solid and reassuring.

The turnout was impressive—all the family captains were present, their faces appropriately solemn. Even a few of our business associates had come to pay their respects. I noticed several unfamiliar faces lingering at the edges of the gathering, no doubt waiting to see what happened next.

Their whispers weren’t lost on me.

Standing in my white business suit, I was a spectacle. Exactly as I intended.

A fly landed on my thigh. I flicked it off the white slacks with the tip of my forefinger. The anticipated tirade from the old witch regarding my wardrobe choice was something I expected.It never came. Grief seemed to finally have silenced her serpent’s tongue.

Another small victory to tuck away and bolster my spirits.

When the benediction was pronounced, I stepped forward. I placed a black rose on the casket, then turned to face the crowd.

“The Moretti family has suffered greatly,” I said with surprising strength. “Two sons lost in less than a year. Our enemies grow bold while we stand divided.”

I paused, scanning the faces before me. Some averted their eyes. Others stared back with open hostility. The wind caught my hair, whipping it across my face.

“Marco’s death marks the end of an era for the Moretti family,” I announced, my voice carrying across the cemetery. “And the beginning of a new one.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Several of the older capos exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in confusion or perhaps disapproval. I didn’t care.

“As of today, I will be assuming control of all Moretti business interests.” The words hung in the air like gunshots. “Every operation, every territory, every deal. You answer to me now.”

The whispers grew louder. My mother-in-law’s face contorted in rage, her momentary silence shattered as she stepped forward.

“You cannot—” she began, but Franky moved between us.

“The decision has been made,” he said firmly.

“La donna dei capi,” Donnie agreed, stepping to my left.

The feminine title replaced the masculine capo, a strange juxtaposition to the ear.

The boss of bosses.

The statement hung in the air for one breathless moment before chaos erupted. Voices rose in outrage, particularly from the older captains. I caught fragments of their protests—”awoman,” “not blood,” “evil bitch”—while Franky shifted closer to me, one hand moving beneath his jacket.

I stood firm, painting the picture of vengeance all in white.

One of the Moretti men would step forward to challenge me. I expected as much. But when Rocco Bonetti with his apish features moved to the other side of the casket, a flicker of surprise flashed through me.