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As he passes our end of the table, his hand falls onto Falynn’s shoulder. He gives it a soft pat I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about had the situation earlier not occurred. But given my current mood, the irritation bubbling up inside me, seeing his grubby paw on her makes me snap.

I leap over my seat to gasps around the table, spearing into Claro from the side. The wine glass tumbles from his fingers and crashes to the floor. The crooked toothed fuck doesn’t understand what’s happening ’til I shove him against the wall. His egghead bounces off the wall, eyes wide and mouth agape. I press my forearm harder into his windpipe, cutting off his air.

“G-Gio,” he sputters.

“Don’t you touch her,” I growl.

“What’re you—GIO!” Claro struggles against my grip, but he’s a weakling. Nothing but flab and more flab. Not an ounce of muscle in sight.

My arm digs harder against his throat. “Is that understood? Don’t you even look at her—”

Pa’s guys, Alonzo, Giancarlo, and a few others rise from their chairs to break up the commotion. Nobody dares touch me, though. Even Giancarlo, as he comes over, doesn’t dare put his hands on me.

“He’s turning red,” Giancarlo says at my side. “Let Uncle go.”

I’m not so sure I’m ready to let go. As I glare into Claro’s saggy, ugly face, his eyes bulging out of his sockets, there’s something pleasurable about seeing him squirm. After being inappropriate with Falynn, he deserves every second of it. If she hadn’t gotten away, would he have stopped when she said so? Given Uncle and his history with women, I know the answer.

“Gio, don’t,” Falynn says. She’s the only one bold enough to touch me. Her fingers slide over my forearm, giving the same squeeze from earlier. She’s here. She’s at my side. She’s got my back.

I let him go. He chokes, his hand flying to his throat as he stumbles away. Julianna and a few others rush to check on him.

My breathing is out of control. The muscles in my jaw ache from clenching down so hard. I barely register anyone else in the room as I force my raging temper to shut down. I close my eyes and exhale a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Falynn whispers.

“Giovanni, a talk,” Papa says finally. Everyone’s gazes dart between the head of the table where Pa hasn’t moved a muscle, and where I am, standing by a knocked-over chair and the wall. Pa grips his cane and rises up. His guys accompany him toward the doorway leading to the hall. He doesn’t even check if I’m following.

He knows I will. I have no other choice. I leave Falynn and the others behind, following like a child about to get his butt spanked—and that’s basically what’s about to happen. We go into Claro’s den, the door snapping shut. I don’t know why Giancarlo’s come along. Chew my ass out in private, I don’t give a fuck. But invite my brother, my rival, to witness it go down?

It’s crossing a line. Pure humiliation.

“Don’t go telling me I shouldn’t have touched him!” I snap. “If he wants to act like disrespectful trash, I’ll treat him like it!”

Pa sits down on the sofa against the back wall, watching me pace around the room. The others remain standing, but nobody says anything. They let me pace back and forth as many times as I need to, the tick from the wall clock the only sound.

“Are you done?” Pa asks after what’s nearly five minutes. “Is your temper tantrum out of your system, Giovanni?”

“I’m not saying a word.”

“Reason being?”

I stop in my tracks, my expression hard. Pa understands from the way I flick my eyes left and right. He motions for the others to leave the room. His guys do so reluctantly, but he shoos them along. Giancarlo’s last to go. He pauses as he passes me, a spark of tension charging between us. I return his stare without a word. My brother and I have our own set of issues that won’t be solved any time soon.

But someday we’ll be forced to. Just not right now. He continues on his way out without another look.

Door closed, father and son alone, Pa gestures for me to sit down. This time I listen, choosing the armchair farthest from where he sits.

“All this commotion you’ve caused,” he wheezes, admiring the twenty-four-karat-gold handle of his cane. “This is over the girl?”

“She has a name. You know she has a name.”

“Honey?” A vague, cruel smirk flickers across Pa’s wrinkled mouth.

“You told Claro about her.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t do my research? You let a girl who’s witnessed your business activities roam free, and you think this isn’t a concern?”

“None of your concern.”

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