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“A smart old man knows there’s value to the streets regardless of his age or location,” Pa says wisely. “Besides, you know youcabronsmade the national news? Rodrigo put quite the spin on the situation. The La Festa shootout has been blamed on a street gang. Very risky moves you made last night.”
Here it comes. The tongue-lashing. The blame game. The profanity-filled rant. I roll my eyes toward the giant window, where the sun has finished rising and hangs high in the sky.
“It was messy. Too messy, Giovanni.”
“Pa, what choice—”
“But effective,” he finishes throatily. “You eliminated the Lovatos’ operation on the west coast. It’ll take them a long time to rebuild.”
“And in that time, we’ll grow stronger.”
I can hear Pa’s cracked lips breaking into a small smile. “You’re thinking long-term strategy. You’ll need to keep that up for the war.”
“War?”
“You may have won a battle in Vegas, but you’ve murdered Vincent Lovato’s only son. The war’s only just beginning. Prepare for it to be a long one.”
My grip on my iPhone tightens. “Are you saying…”
“It’s you, Giovanni. It’s always been you. But I had to test you. I had to make sure you wanted it. I sent you to Vegas in hopes you’d do what I did fifty years ago and conquer the town. You’ve done it even faster than I ever did,” he explains. Phlegm catches in his throat and he dissolves into a fit of coughing.
“Pa, slow down on your words. Are you okay?”
For a couple seconds, there’s rustling sounds over the phone, and then what sounds like the gulp of a drink being taken. He returns to the phone with his voice slightly raspier, but recovered from his coughs.
“I’m not okay, Giovanni. That’s why you must know this now. That you are to lead the family in my death.”
The news is what I’ve spent my whole life working toward, but hearing it from Pa himself shocks me to the core. I stop in place and stare out the window, not really paying attention to the mountain skyline. Instead I’m in my head, with another million thoughts filling it up. This really is real—I’m going to be the next Don Sorrentino.
“It’s an honor to be chosen to uphold our legacy, Papa.”
“Don’t thank me. Make it count, Giovanni.”
When we hang up, the shock still pings through my body. Louis hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Did he just…” He cuts himself off mid-sentence.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and nod. “It’s me.”
“I knew it! Some of the guys weren’t so sure between you and Giancarlo, but I always knew it’d be you.”
“But my father’s right when he says this is only the beginning. The Lovatos won’t react well to what’s happened.”
“All the more reason you need today off,” Louis says. He chuckles at the skeptical look on my face. “Boss, don’t you think you’re gonna regret it later when you’re head honcho, knee-deep in business? Better take some time off now.”
He’s right. After everything that’s happened over the past couple of months, and with the revelation I am succeeding Pa, a small break is needed. If not for relaxation purposes, for the sake of my overall sanity.
And for Falynn. A slow smile spreads onto my lips. “Lou,” I say, “maybe you’re right.”
Falynn moans seconds before waking up. Her eyes flutter open and she half rolls for a glance around the room. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed stroking my fingers through her curls. Last night when we returned to the penthouse, she’d stripped off a provocative outfit I assume was from her performance at a club and then collapsed naked in bed.
She does this thing where she wraps herself in the sheets like a burrito. The first time I saw her do it, I was baffled, but sitting here now, watching her eyes light with comprehension, I’m taken with these little quirks of hers. I brush more curls away from her face and drop a kiss on her brow.
“You’re finally awake.”
She squints. “It’s not even morning anymore, is it?”
“A few minutes before noon.”
