Page 96 of No Merciful Corruption

“Don’t you ever just want to say to Hell with it? And let the other Families figure it out on their own?” She asks.

“Every single day.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because people aren’t a business.” I reply. “The Twelve Families haven’t seen this much change since my father and Gregorio died. Most of the old Dons are either dying off or retiring. A whole generational shift is taking place. I want to make sure we do this the right way so that when we leave, it’s for good.”

She opens her mouth to respond but decides against it. I step away and go to turn on the shower.

“May I?”

She purses her lips at me.

“Or you can watch.” I unbuckle my belt. “You know I love putting on a show for you.”

Dahlia’s cheeks heat and she looks up at the ceiling as if praying for patience. Then she turns on the balls of her feet and enters the walk-in closet that connects our bedroom to the bathroom.

“Suit preference?”

“Whatever will look good standing next to you.”

I undress fully and step under the cool spray of water to scrub the day away. We haven’t been home a full twenty-four hours and already the honeymoon-induced high I’ve been riding for weeks is whittled away to nothing. I’d hoped at least a week would pass before reality settled in once more. I suppose not.

The Ortizes’ rise to power in Barcelona was nascent, covert, and incremental. Up until a year ago, they were a small operation peddling low-end narcotics to the city’s infamous party scene, a demographic Sandro once dominated. Now they live in a multi-million-dollar mansion up in the mountains overlooking the city and rub elbows with the local Dons. I’ve heard the rumors; I know some of the other Families are in favor of initiating a temporary thirteenth Don in anticipation of my eventual departure. And I know that the Ortizes are primed to take the Sandovals’ place in the drug market now that Regina is taking her family in a different direction.

Edith Ortiz’s invite is a play for power on behalf of her husband and I don’t like it. It’s tasteless not to mention an afront to one of our cardinal rules: never, ever involve a wife in a Don’s business. Archaic and patriarchal as the system may be, it’s been this way for over sixty years and not even the Dons my age are keen on changing it. It’s part of the reason Regina is struggling to establish her independence and dominance among the other Apostles; she’s a woman. No longer acting on behalf of Sandro but now in her own right, the Dons don’t know what to do with a woman in power so they undermine her authority instead.

Simón Ortiz is eager for his family to join our ranks but what he doesn’t understand is it takes more than brute strength and money to do so. Anyone can traffic narcotics, run a gambling ring, or launder money but not anyone can siphon it into true power and influence. The kind of which becomes generational. The Twelve Families have survived decades of social, political, and economic change, constantly evolving and adapting to the world around them through alliances and partnerships with one another. Our system works because we understand everyone’s success and safety is intertwined. We follow our honor codes, support our neighbors, and respect our enemies. And when those cardinal rules are broken we have what happened between Sandro and me: war.

Abuelo and my father were the mediators and voices of reason among the Twelve and it’s a position I inherited when the time came.

And it hasn’t been half as easy as I thought it would be.

WE DON’T DIVORCE

Alejandro

As is customary during Abuelo’s dinner visits, he sits at the head of the table and ignores the rest of us. It’s like we aren’t even here.

Allegra is the center of his world. She sits on his lap and eats off his plate no matter how many times Lettie tries telling her not to. Abuelo spoils her and eats all the vegetables she casts off to the side of their shared plate.

Dahlia sits to Abuelo’s right and Lettie to his left with Karina seated between her and Diego. I sit across from Karina next to Dahlia and might pay more attention to my meal if not for the awkward stand-off happening between Diego and Karina right now.

They were fine this morning when they took Allegra to her doctor’s appointment. What could’ve possibly happened in the last ten hours?

Their relationship has always been odd to me. When it comes to Allegra, they are of one mind. The way they raise their daughter together is admirable and to the untrained eye, one could mistake them for a real couple rather than cordial co-parents. Since Allegra was born they’ve done everything together: birthdays, holidays, vacations. Family portraits litter the walls of their apartments and if not for the eternally unlocked door that splits the narrow hall connecting their separate living spaces, they might as well be living together too.

But when it comes to their personal relationship outside of their daughter? A complete and total enigma. Somedays they’re inseparable and others it’s like witnessing Barcelona go up against Real Madrid; a reference I once made which perplexed the sports-challenged Karina.

Right now Karina’s squeezing into her seat to avoid brushing shoulders with Diego when he reaches out for the wine bottle. He pours himself a glass and places it out of reach despite her glass being nearly empty. The ferocious glance she casts in his direction could light the sun on fire.

Dahlia gives my foot a light kick under the table and inclines her head, asking a silent question. She wiggles her brows and I sigh in response to which she bites back laughter.

She lifts her cup to her lips and murmurs, “I think they should just fuck it out.”

“My brother wouldn’t survive it.”

She chokes on her water and laughs outright, disturbing the other conversations taking place at the table. She sets it down and leans over to kiss me. I’m not sure what I’m being rewarded for but am nonetheless supremely pleased with myself.