“I surely think that’s her own decision to make, is it not?”
Marco’s grip tightens. “You do not want to make an enemy of me, Vitale. Not when half the people in that room are looking for any excuse to overthrow you.”
His eyes dart toward the meeting room door. Behind it sits a dozen or so of the Guild’s inner circle. They are masters of their respective crafts and territories, many have been in the game from the moment they drew breath and will likely remain so until their last.
“Then I suppose you have an incentive, then,” I say quietly. “To ensure they do not.”
The implication immediately makes the vein in Marco’s temple twitch dangerously.
The truth is, I need Marco in my pocket. Without his line of funding, one that he rigorously and ruthlessly maintains on behalf of the Guild, the entire operation is compromised.
Rocco was always fond of the man, but he’s not going to be around forever. He needs to choose a successor. And if it’s not Mia, then I need to know now so I can begin to make preparations.
We give each other a long look, both unsure of how far we can push the other.
I save us both the headache and walk away.
The noise that hits me when I enter the meeting room is all groans and complaints.
More than half the seats at the table are filled with men and women braced in some kind of recovery position. Those who aren’t are throwing me unpleasant looks as I stride through the room and take my seat at the head of the table.
Martino quietly follows behind, standing just behind my left shoulder as if nothing has changed at all.
This seems to have an immediate effect on the group. Those capable of doing so sit up a little taller, shooting wary glances at those around them.
The only person who seems entirely at ease with the situation is Dante, who has one arm flung over the back of his chair as he picks at his nails.
“Thank you for meeting here on such short notice,” I begin, and the room immediately falls silent.
There’s a groan, and then, “Fuck you.”
My head snaps to the culprit.
Alessandro has his arms crossed on the table, his head buried within them. The last time I saw him, he was already drunk out of his mind. The hangover clearly isn’t doing him any favors now.
“Did the future of the Guild cut into your beauty sleep, Alessandro?” I counter smoothly.
This earns me a few chuckles from the group.
He twists his face to look at me, seemingly only capable of cracking one eye at a time. “You could have given a guy a warning.”
“You think I had a warning?” I snap. “I found out I was to command the Guild the moment the rest of you did.”
This leaves a beat of stunned silence. “How can that be true? You were his second, his best man, for fucks sake.”
There’s the scrape of a chair, and Marco finally takes his seat. “I think I speak for all of us here when I say that this news does not instill much confidence in your capacity for leadership.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Perhaps, Marco, you mean to say you would not have been so ill-prepared had Rocco namedyoudon.”
“Well,” Marco coughs. “It was never my ambition. Given the timeframe, perhaps I would be able to come up with a strategy within the week.”
“A week?”
He nods.
I look around the table, meeting everyone's eye. “Would a week satisfy you all? Do you believe any one of you could complete a strategy for the Guild within a week?”
There’s a grumble of general consensus.
