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“Oh no.” Big Tony sighed, turning Giulio to face the mirror.

“Poor kid,” Dino muttered as he shaved above my lip.

I almost felt bad for him when Uncle Vinnie started his rant, “You don’t understand. What don’t you understand?”

In the corner of my eye, I saw the kid shrug. “I don’t understand Italian.”

“Then you’re a freak.” Uncle Vinnie rolled the newspaper up, pointing at him. Dino had to stop for a moment, he was trying so hard not laugh. “What do you mean you don’t understand Italian? Does a fish not understand how swim? Does a bird not understand how to fly? If you cannot understand your own people then you are a freak of nature. You will die out in the cold. You don’t understand Italian. Fine, I don’t understand English! Learn!”

He didn’t stop there but switched to over to Italian, asking him if he knew where he was from and then beginning to complain about this generation.

“Fedel!” he called out to me.

“Sì?” I tilted my head to the side, allowing Dino to pat the sides of my neck.

“Melody’s children, they understand our language, correct? Or do those Irish bastards got them wearing skirts already?”

All of us laughed, even I did though I was pretty sure kilts were a Scottish thing.

“No skirts yet sir, and the oldest, Ethan, understands, but is still struggling to speak back. He’ll get there, the boss is making sure of it.”

He nodded to himself before glaring at the boy in disgust. “You don’t understand Italian. Huh. Marmocchio!”

Poor kid, but I was sure he’d try learning it now.

“Thank you, Dino,” I said to him, handing him the bill as I rose from the chair.

“You leaving us already?” Big Tony questioned. “I didn’t even get my bottle of wine yet.”

“Next time. I’ll see you all next week, and kid.” I put my hand on the head of the poor kid Vinnie had destroyed. “Try to learn a few words by then. Take your time; you won’t be a freak forever.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled as I walked out, adjusting the collar of my jacket.

“Fedel Morris,” he said my name like the devil claiming a soul. When I faced him, he stood shoulder to shoulder with me in a black suit and dark green tie. In his hands was an umbrella, the handle of which was a silver wolf.

“Mayor Cortés,” I replied, scanning around the buildings in front of me.

“Now, Fedel.” He stepped in front of me with a sly smile. “If I were going to kill you, I wouldn’t make the trip down here personally.”

“So what does a the mayor of Chicago have to do with a nobody bodyguard?”

“A nobody?” He frowned and looked truly confused. “How can you, the Callahan family’s right-hand man, be a nobody? Everyone on this street knows who you are. That, to me, means you’re a real important somebody.”

“Mayor, I’m very busy at the—”

“Right, right, of course, the dog must return to his master.” He nodded, placing the umbrella up to his shoulder. If he was expecting a reaction, he wouldn’t get one from me. “Come work for me, Fedel.”

“Come again?” My eyes widened. Of all the things I’d figured he’d say, that was not on the list.

“I’m offering you a job. Change is coming to this city, and when it does I’d like you to be working at my side. Whatever you’re being paid—”

“You think I decided to dedicate my life to one family because of the pay?”

“Of course not. If you had I wouldn’t be here personally to give you this opportunity.” The smug, arrogant little bitch was starting to piss me off.

“Let me use this opportunity to let you know that you will lose this fight. I’ve seen men much stronger and much more ruthless try to stand in front of Melody Nicci Giovanni Callahan; none of them are alive to tell the tale. She wins. She always wins. The world, the sun, the moon revolve around her. And if you’ve been stalking her, then you should know this. So my answer is no, I don’t work for dead men.” Walking around him, I made a move to walk to my car farther up the road, but instead pulled out my phone and dialed. It took less than ten seconds for another car to come around the corner.

“Tell me, Fedel,” he called out. When I moved to get in, he turned back, his face emotionless and impossible to read. “Why does everyone call Melody by her full name? It’s a mouthful, don’t you think? Melody Nicci Giovanni Callahan.”

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