Her own was still jet black, and the fine lines around her eyes only crinkled when she laughed. Which she did at the look of disgust I gave her.
“You had me worried,” I grumped.
“Pshaw.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It would take more than the Grimaldi Famiglia’s whole army to stop me from seeing you.”
“The don is losing his mind,” I said quietly. “You really should have let me come to New York.”
Her nose scrunched. “And take you away from important things here? No, I can come to you. It’s easier now that you’re stateside, but I did enjoy visiting Naples with you the last few years.”
She released me, and we went to the small, intimate table. I pulled out her seat, helped her to sit, and then reached for the decanter of red wine.
“Tell me everything!” she insisted.
“First…” I poured. “Where is Tizi?”
“Your sister says hello, but she was going with a group of friends to some art exhibit or something equally as boring.” The pout on her face made her look decades younger. “I was invited, of course, but nothing was as important as seeing my son again.”
I rested a hand on her shoulder and felt a rush of warmth when hers covered it. “I’m so happy to see you, Mama.”
“Same.” She squeezed. “Now, spill! I want to know everything that you’ve been up to.”
I laughed and took a seat beside her. “You mean, my weekly phone calls haven’t been enough of a report?”
Donatella Grimaldi leaned forward, pinning me with a fierce look. “I had to learn secondhand that you did some crazy, backwoods line dance with an unknown woman at the don’s charity gala.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. “Who’s been gossiping about me?”
“My boy, the whispers have been running rampant across the underworld. It doesn’t matter my sources,” she countered, picking up her wine glass and cradling it against her chest as she watched me. “She must be different to make you lose your head enough to caper about the dance floor in front of the Grimaldi Famiglia.”
“She is.” There was no point hiding from this woman. She’d see through any lie I tried to feed her.
“And the don?” One perfectly manicured brow arched. “What does my father-in-law have to say about her?”
I snatched a bruschetta from the tray in the center of the table. “Since he still considers me destined for his ward, you can infer his reaction to last night’s rebellion.”
I popped the small piece of crunchy bread in my mouth.
Her voice turned serious. “My brother has your back, whatever you decide to do. You know that, right, Nico?”
I swallowed. “I do.”
“Good.” Her red lips parted, and she took a long sip of her wine. “So you’ll be meeting your uncle as a don soon?”
I shook my head. “My plans are falling into place, but please don’t let your brother act until he hears from me. I can’t have this falling on you.”
The laugh she gave me was hollow. “I know my place in the war of kings. But I’m going to need more than generalities if I’m going to keep my brother from storming into the city. He’s been looking to crush your grandfather for years.”
I sighed. As much as I wanted to keep my mother out of the fire, I knew that was a losing game. She was right, and she deserved to know everything. So, before the first course was served, I told her everything. How Don Grimaldi’s heart was likely to give out any day. That the capos in the famiglia cared only for their own lavish lifestyles. How the crews working the streets felt like leadership didn’t have their backs and were constantly putting the men at risk over foolish financial gains.
Donatella listened to everything, only interrupting with questions to clarify.
When I was done, she placed her empty glass on the table. “Whatever you do, make it happen soon,” she advised. “You might have eliminated the underboss, but any one of your grandfather’s captains could rise up and make a power play.”
I shook my head. “They’re too lazy.”
“No, Nico, you’re underestimating their greed.” She pointed a finger at me. “If you can see the shaky state of things, they can too. They might be accustomed to a plush life, they might seem like they don’t care, but mark my words. Any chance for them to make a power play, and they’ll do it.”
Picking at a piece of basil on the tray, I considered her words. “It crossed my mind that they could be acting, putting on a show of indifference.”
