Eight of them sit around a metal table. Some smoke cigarettes, some cigars. All of their faces are blank. No sympathy, no warmth, no indication that they’ve known her for years, if not her whole life. Anger bubbles in my chest.
Christ, they’re looking at her like she’s something they fucking stepped in, not their new leader.
I stand behind her, like she asked. Close enough to intervene if needed. Far enough to make it clear she's the one in charge.
She doesn't need me to fight her battles. But she also doesn't need to fight them alone. I hope she gets that.
“Gentlemen.” Adriana's voice cuts through the quiet grumbling. It’s steady and strong, and just what they need to hear. “Thank you for coming.”
Riccardo snorts from the far end of the table. My eyes narrow in his direction. Prick bastard.
“Did we have a choice?” he asks.
“There's always a choice.” She doesn't flinch at his obnoxious tone. “You could have refused. You didn't. So let's not waste each other's time pretending you were forced to be here.”
A few of the men exchange looks. They weren't expecting that.
Vincenzo clears his throat from his seat at her right. “Let’s begin with updates. The situation with the Kozlovs?—”
“The situation with the Kozlovs is exactly why we're here,” Riccardo interrupts. “Francesco is in a coma. The Russians have already made one almost deadly move to cripple our organization. And we're supposed to take orders from a woman who's spent the last twenty-two years pretending she's not one of us?”
My fingers clench into tight fists. I hold them tight against my sides.
Make another comment, dick. Give me a reason to pummel your fucking ass into next year.
Adriana doesn't react, though. Just lets the silence stretch until it becomes suffocating.
“You're right,” she finally says.
Riccardo balks at that. “I'm... what?”
“You're right. I spent twenty-two years building something separate. Something clean. I walked away from this world the second I could, and I never looked back.” She leans forward, palms flat on the table. “But here's what you're missing, Riccardo. I didn't walk away because I couldn't handle it. Iwalked away because I wanted something different. Something that was mine.”
“And now?”
“Now my father is fighting for his life. Now the Russians are making moves. Now I'm the one standing between this family and everyone who wants to tear it apart.” Her eyes do a sweep of the table. “So I'm back. Not because I want to be, but because my family needs me. And if you think for one second that I'm going to let anyone… Russian, Irish, or Italian… destroy what my father built, you haven't been paying attention. And I’d urge you to start. Right. Now.”
She shut him up fast. I swallow a smile and watch the faces around the table. I see mostly shock, but there’s a little bit of respect, too.
Not from Riccardo, though.
“Pretty speech,” he sneers. “But speeches don't run an organization. Neither do MBAs and PowerPoint presentations.”
An older capo leans forward. He’s got gray hair, deep lines etched around his eyes. He’s clearly been doing this since before Riccardo and Adriana were born. “The boy has a point. Some of us were running territories when you were still in school, young lady. We know this world. We know its rules. We know who our enemies are and how to handle them.”
“And I know people, Sammy,” Adriana says, her voice icing the air. “I've spent a long time reading boardrooms full of men who wanted to see me fail. I know when someone's lying. I know when someone's scared. I know when someone's hiding something." She pauses, letting her gaze drift across the table and land on Riccardo. “I see a lot of that in this room right now.”
The room goes very still. Not surprising. They’re all a bunch of criminals.
Riccardo's face reddens. “You think you can intimidate us?”
“I think I don't have to. I think some of you are smart enough to see which way the wind is blowing now.” She leans forward. “And I think the ones who aren't... well, they’ll learn.”
Shit, I've seen men twice her size back down from less. And that idiot Riccardo doesn't back down, but he doesn't push either. So there’s at least one functioning brain cell hidden underneath that fucking rug on his head.
“My father trusted you,” Adriana says, looking around the table. “Some of you have earned that trust. Some of you are coasting on history. I don't have the luxury of history. All I have is right now. So here's how this is going to work. You do your jobs, you report to me and Vincenzo, and we get through this crisis together. Or you don't, and we have a different conversation.”
“What about him?” Riccardo jerks his chin toward me. “Molloy. What's his role in all this? Are we taking orders from him, too?”
