Page 5 of Venomous Throne

“Signora Moretti, how are you?” a voice cracked from decades of smoking asked.

Turning, with a sad smile I didn’t have to fake, I met Joseph’s stare. “I’m doing alright, signore.”

The capo looked at me—really looked. “Can we have a word?”

Donnie hovered a few feet away. These two were a package deal, both fearsome captains in the famiglia.

With a nod, I led the way to the buffet table.

“How’s Marco treating you?” Joseph asked, his voice dropping to a murmur as he selected a cannoli from the dessert tray.

I glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot. “As well as can be expected.”

Donnie joined us, creating a small barrier between our conversation and the rest of the party.

“That’s not saying much,” he grunted, his thick fingers plucking a stuffed mushroom from a silver platter.

Joseph’s weathered face creased with what might have been concern. “We’ve noticed things, signora. The way he handles business. The decisions he’s making.”

“Reckless,” Donnie added, chewing deliberately. “Vincent would never have approved.”

My throat tightened at the mention of my late husband. He might have been a cruel husband, a terrible person who deserved the end he got, but he was a strong don. His men were loyal.

“Marco is the heir,” I said carefully. “It's his birthright.”

“Birthright,” Joseph scoffed. “He hasn’t earned it.”

The comment was bold. Not just because we were in the presence of the entire famiglia, but because it was treason. Plain and simple.

“We think the crown should fall upon a different head,” Donnie added.

I looked between the two. If they were hinting at what I thought they were hinting at, this was a dangerous conversation. And I was the last person they should be talking to about this kind of thing.

“Isn’t that for the capos to decide?” I hedged.

“We have an alternative in mind,” Joseph said. And then he gave me a pointed look.

My heart stuttered. The weight of Joseph’s gaze held me in place as understanding dawned. They weren’t suggesting another capo or distant relative.

They meant me.

“I—” My voice failed. The empty champagne flute nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. “Surely you can’t be suggesting….”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed slightly, a calculating look I’d seen many times when he was strategizing with Vincent. “You were his wife for six years, signora. You understand how things work better than most.”

“But I’m a woman,” I whispered, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.

Donnie snorted softly. “And Marco’s barely a man. At least you have sense.”

My mind reeled. In all the years of the Moretti family’s rule, there had never been a female don. Hell, they were rare enough in the entire history of organized crime! The very idea was unthinkable, blasphemous—

Possible.

I knew, just like I knew that this wasn’t going to be the sum total of my life, to be bartered like a prized heifer, that I could do this.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, knowing that this conversation would result in my immediate death if anyone should overhear.

“That’s all we’re asking.” Joseph dusted his fingers.