Page 83 of Unraveled

As Gian spoke, he had moved through the left wing of the mansion, heading toward the front of the estate. He checked out the windows, to make sure none of the men stationed outside had taken a hit, and that there was no funny business going on. He didn’t trust Edmond as far as he could throw the fat bastard.

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks, hasn’t it?” Edmond asked out of the blue.

Gian let the curtains close, and headed back the way he came toward the dining room. “Depends on who you think it’s been rough for. On my end, I think it’s been mostly okay. You were the one who started this nonsense, remember. I only recently joined in with a few attacks of my own. I can’t help it if my attacks are more direct and successful than yours are.”

“You assume everything, Gian. Don’t you know what they say about assuming?”

“I know you’re trying to play some kind of game with me, and my food is getting cold. I’m not in the mood.”

“Too bad, it’s time to listen. My attacks were pointed, and only done to either calm a situation, or make a point. They didn’t have to be direct to be successful. That’s what you fail to realize, Gian.”

“Are you done?” he asked Edmond.

“Not even close. I know exactly why you’re doing this.”

“Do tell.”

“You think I killed your grandfather,” Edmond said simply.

Gian’s jaw clenched. “Partly, but it’s not the only reason.”

“Yes, yes. The younger men, they want a boss they picked, they want to act like spoiled children who have their hands held when they’re scared to do what they’re told. We’ve been over this.”

“Your bias is showing again, Edmond.”

“So be it, they’re a dime a dozen. They can be replaced.”

“You’re wrong again,” Gian shot back. “Made men are not commodities to be replaced. Not in this Cosa Nostra.”

Edmond laughed. “You have a lot to learn.”

“It takes time, or so I was told.”

“Be careful not to run out of it before you even get the chance to properly get started.” Then, Edmond said quieter, “But you do think I killed Corrado.”

“It no longer matters.”

“It does, or this would not be happening.”

“Wrong again,” Gian murmured. “Corrado is only a small part of this. Cosa Nostra is not about the one man on top, but all the men who wait on his direction. It’s not me who has forgotten that, Edmond. Good luck, but we both already know how this will end. I could ask you to make it easy on me, but we both know you won’t.”

Gian hung up the phone without a goodbye, handed it to the waiting maid, and joined his men at the dinner table once again.

None of them asked him what was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

He had this shit under control.

Gian popped the top off his beer, took a long swig, and glared at the game playing on his flat screen television. “I don’t know why you bother to watch this, man. The Leafs haven’t done well in decades, and this isn’t going to be their year.”

Constantino bristled. “Be a proper Canadian, would you? Don’t diss the Leafs like that.”

“He’s more of a Montreal fan,” Dom remarked from the Lazy Boy chair. “Depends on who is winning at the time.”

“That’s a fucking shame,” Stephan put in. “Pick a team and stick with it.”

Gian had news for them. “Since you three are watching the game on my huge ass television, sitting on my comfy furniture, drinking my beer, and you’re not at your own places, you can shut the fuck up now or get the hell out.”