Page 141 of Disgrace

“Except with me,” John murmured.

The men’s gazes drifted to John again.

“Except with you,” Lucian agreed. “With Dante’s daughter marrying into the Donati family at the end of next month, you taking over the Calabrese faction, and Andino heading the Marcellos … we are unlikely to ever see another war between the three Cosa Nostra families controlling this city. That’s unheard of.”

Giovanni chuckled. “Everything our father always wanted, in a way.”

“It only took three generations to get there,” Dante added with a smirk.

“You know, I haven’t officially taken over the Calabrese family,” John said.

Siena decided maybe then she should get up, and go to the bathroom. Or something to get away from the conversation. It wasn’t as though any of the men made her feel unwelcomed, but her upbringing had taught her that this was not the sort of thing women were allowed to be a part of.

“I’m just going to go—”

“You can stay where you are,” John said, giving her a look.

“It’s business, and you know women don’t entertain business, John.”

“They do in this family,” Dante said, “or they have started taking an interest over the years. You’re fine to sit.”

“See,” John pointed out.

Fine.

“It’s a matter of semantics,” Lucian said, “as they know who their new boss is, and what’s expected of them.”

“Sure, but I still have to make a show of it, too. Drive the point home.”

“We could help with that,” Giovanni offered, grinning, “if you would like us to.”

“How so?” John asked.

Before any of them could answer John’s question, the restaurant door blew open, and with it, bringing cold late-October wind. Siena didn’t recognize the disheveled looking man wearing a trench coat, and glaring, but the other men at the table seemed to. Their postures stiffened as the man came closer to their spot.

“Detective,” John greeted.

“I don’t know what you fucking did, but this isn’t over,” the man hissed.

“Now, Rosencauld—”

“Who did you pay, huh?” the detective spat out. “Who did you blackmail, or threaten? How did you do it?”

John only smiled up at the man from the side, and never once showed concern or irritation at the intrusion. “I didn’t need to do anything. The evidence was on our side.”

“Evidence like this?”

The man threw a tablet down on the table, and a video was already playing. On the screen, Siena saw a man she recognized—a Capo from the Calabrese family, although she had never had a real conversation with the man. The same Capo who had spoken against John outside of the hospital the day she pulled the plug on Darren’s life support.

He stumbled through his words on the video, tears filled his frightened eyes, though he sat straight and proud on a chair. Darkness rested behind him, and nothing else.

He admitted to the bombing, and to setting it up. He admitted to killing both Siena’s brothers, and to encouraging the feud between the families to worsen the peace in the city. He admitted where evidence could be found to connect him to everything he confessed. And then he killed himself with the gun sitting in his lap by swallowing a bullet.

Rosencauld pointed a shaking finger at John. “This isn’t over.”

John laughed. “Oh, it’s been over for a while, detective. Have a good day.”

The lesson was clear.