“I was kinda born into it, so all my life. But if you want to count my adult years, it’s been fifteen years, eight spent as Don Russo’s top lieutenant.”
“Word on the street is you were going to succeed him.”
He grinned widely. “For once, the rumors are true.”
“And you still walked away?”
He nodded. “I’m a man of principle. Maybe Don Russo thought I was bluffing. Maybe he thinks I’ll change my mind and come crawling back. Whatever he thinks, he’s wrong.”
“You must have made a lot of money, serving as a lieutenant. If you need employment, then you obviously didn’t manage your money well. Must have pissed it away on cards and pussy.” My father continued to riddle him with a spray of questions instead of bullets, trying to understand the man who was far too confident given his position.
He shook his head, that handsome smile on his lips. “I’m not in it for the money.”
“So I wouldn’t have to pay you, then?” he challenged.
Wolfe chuckled. “A salary reflects value. So I expect to be paid well out of principle. But do I need the money? No. I could retire comfortably by the sea. But then what? Sit around and get fat?” he asked with a laugh. “Let my mind go to shit?Cristo, I need the adrenaline. I need to know that I could get shot in the head every fucking day. Knowing you’re always a minute from death is the only way to feel alive. At least for me.”
I looked directly into his espresso-colored eyes and drilled in deep with my stare, seeing a man who reminded me so much of my father, of the men who surrounded me every day. But this man truly did not fear death—and that made him different.
My father turned quiet.
Wolfe seemed to have nothing more to say. He rubbed his big palms together slowly as he regarded my father.
“I don’t trust you.”
“I’d judge you if you did.”
“Working for us is a step down from your previous employment, so I find your interest suspicious.”
“Let’s be real,” he said. “Any of the other organizations in Sicily and on the mainland would snatch me up in a heartbeat. The Skull King tried to recruit me years agowhen I was in Florence. But you’re my first stop because I respect your work.”
“You respect my work?” my father asked with slight incredulity.
“You operate your business morally and honorably. I can’t say the same for the others.”
My father gauged him, as if trying to understand if this man was just blowing smoke up his ass.
I didn’t believe he was.
“You don’t know anything about my business,” my father said.
Wolfe stared my father down. “I know at the heart of your criminal activities, you’re a family business—a vineyard. That you’re proud of the wine you make from the land that’s been in your family for generations. I know you pay your vineyard workers more than all the other vineyards here. When you say family is everything to you, you actually mean it. I know you only do business with distributors who operate with the same code of ethics that you share. That your connections are based on friendship rather than opportunity. You’re old-fashioned, how the Mafia used to be in the early nineteen hundreds.”
My father had nothing to say to that—probably because Wolfe was right on the money. “I’ll consider your request.”
Wolfe gave a nod. “Thank you, Don Mancini.” He rose to his feet, a statue compared to everyone else, especially those who were seated. When he started to turn away, his eyes locked with mine, and a little smile emerged. He did it right in front of my father because this man truly didn’t give a fuck.
He made his way behind the couch and walked out.
It was quiet for minutes after he was gone, like my father wanted to make sure Wolfe was really gone from the villa before he said a word. “That prick is one arrogant son of a bitch.” He brought the cigar to his lips and took a drag before he snuffed it out in the ashtray. It had almost burned down completely because of the length of the conversation. “I don’t like him.”
“I don’t like him either,” Elio said as he sat on the other couch.
Disappointment gripped me, but I said nothing. If I vouched for him, they might suspect my white-hot burning attraction to that Roman god. I wondered what other parts of his body were covered in ink.
My brother took a seat in the armchair and lit up hisown cigar before he lounged against the back of the chair.
Another silence fell.
