That logic was infallible.
My grandfather spluttered and huffed.
I had him with that line.
“I’ll report back tomorrow for my first marching orders.” I buttoned my suit.
“Tomorrow, we’ll meet the capos at La Dolce Vita,” he agreed.
Ah yes, the henchmen. Pigs the lot of them. There wasn’t a soul who wasn’t poisoned with greed, and whose hands weren’t ready to stab their best friend in the back with the promise of advancement.
My father hated the captains Don Franco promoted.
He would have rewarded the loyal ones in our ranks. Never made a promotion based on blood lines and family honor.
“One more thing, ragazzo mio,” Nonno called out as my hand fell on the study door.
I stared at the door, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “Signore?”
“You will not kill any more of the famiglia.”
The command ricocheted through my mind.
“Do I make myself clear?” The bite in his voice promised unforgiveness.
“Crystal.”
With that false promise, I escaped. Any man who dared to cross me was dead. I’d done it before, and I would do it again.
Unlike street rabble, who ambushed each other on a whim, killing a sworn member of the famiglia without express permission from the don was seen as rebellion. In my case, there was a strong argument for self-defense. It was the only reason I was alive and my punishment had been exile.
I didn’t bother asking the chauffer to bring my car around. The keys were hanging in the garage, and I made a fast exit, peeling out of the drive as if the hounds of hell were baying at my heels.
Back in the fold….
Proclaimed the heir….
Forced to marry someone against my will….
It was too much.
The steering wheel shook as my fist banged against it.
“Vaffanculo!” I snarled and struck the wheel again.
Ahead, a yellow light turned red. I slammed on the brake, making the car stutter to a stop.
This was nothing short of a nightmare.
I raked both hands through my hair. The tie on my neck was too tight, and I viciously tugged it off. The jacket followed. Breathing hard, I slammed my forehead against the wheel this time. Bent over, I smacked thedash—over and over. I needed to go somewhere to blow off steam. If this was going to be the type of interaction I regularly faced, a consistent regimen of boxing or sparring would be a necessary outlet.
Something in the car rattled loose.
Cursing, I lifted my head and felt along the center console for a broken part.
Inside the compartment, my fingers brushed against something metal. I frowned. The light turned green, and a horn blared behind me.
There was no use throwing the grumpy driver the bird. With the window tint and the nocturnal shroud, they wouldn’t see. I gunned the car through the light and pulled up against the opposite curb.
