Page 18 of Made in Love and Blood

Nico was still trying to get beyond the flippant son comment. “Like what?”

“Like who is calling the fucking shots from here on out, for one. I know it probably wasn’t obvious to you yesterday evening when you found me waiting for you, and we didn’t have a lot of time to clear shit up, so I’ll take the time to shine it like crystal for you this morning.”

“Uh—”

“Me,” Sal interjected fast. “I’m the shot-caller here. Not your father. Not Larkin. And definitely not you. It’s me. What does that mean to you?”

Nico chewed over his thoughts, considering both what he should say, and what he wanted to. They were often not the same things. “I thought my father said—”

Sal put a hand up, silencing Nico instantly. “You are mine to do with what I see fit. Officially, you are my problem, even if I don’t know the specifics around why you ended up here quite yet.”

Nico’s brow lifted high at that comment. Sal didn’t miss it.

“What?”

“He didn’t tell you about Miami?” Nico questioned.

Salvatore’s cheek twitched. “To be fair, he threw this on me yesterday morning with zero notice, and I really just wanted to leave.”

Standard Giorgio behavior.

A snort fell from Nico. “Oh, I get that. Believe me.”

“Do you care to tell me about Miami? Do I need to know something?”

“I was told I couldn’t talk about it,” Nico replied, shrugging. “It’s a matter of national security. Those were the exact words used, for the record.”

Sal blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, you should probably just talk to Giorgio if you need to know.”

The man across the room massaged his right temple with two fingers in the shape of a gun as he took in the information. “Unreal. Okay, moving on. When I feel the need to report back to Giorgio on your comings and goings, then I will. Otherwise, what does that mean between us, Nico?”

Right...

“You call the shots,” he stated.

A nod answered him back. “And what does that mean?”

Nico cleared his throat and glanced down into the mug. “I guess I should have been up here at eight, right?”

“For starters.”

“I probably shouldn’t throw things that don’t belong to me.”

“Another good one. Anymore?”

“I’m sure you’ll let me know.”

“You’re goddamn right,” Sal said heavily, sitting straight and drumming his fingers to the desk, “starting with the fact that last night shouldn’t happen again. Capisce?”

“What do you—”

“Sitting on the stone wall. Conversating with my daughter. Being anywhere you are not supposed to be.”

“I’ll do my best,” Nico stated, opting for the most honest reply he could come up with.

“You’re being very...compliant.”