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He glares at me for a second, then another.
"Is he right? Are you ready to marry theCamorraprincess, Massimo?" Michael’s voice cuts through the space between us.
Massimo glowers at me a second longer. Then, he lowers his arm and steps away. He straightens the cuffs of his shirt, rolls his shoulders, and widens his stance. "Yes," he says in a toneless voice, "I am ready."
Michael surveys his features, then nods. "Now that you’re done distracting me..." He turns his gaze on me. "Are you sure you intend to go through with this plan?"
I nod.
"You realize, you could forfeit your life if something goes wrong."
If it means I’m able to guard hers, it’ll be worth it.
"If you and your men stick to the plan, nothing will go wrong."
Michael’s jaw tics. "Are you doubting my capability?"
"I never said that."
"And yet, you referred to them as my men. They are your men as much as mine,Capo. You’ve always wanted to take over theCosa Nostra, but you’ve never seen the clan as yours. You’ve always carried a chip on your shoulder for not being first born. You’ve focused on trying to catch up with me, even helping my bride to escape, knowing it would make me lose face. I still forgave you. I took you back."
"You didn’t take me back. I proved myself as being invaluable enough that you knew I would strengthen your stance if I were on your side. You didn’t want me splitting the loyalties of the men. That’s the only reason you accepted me back into theCosa Nostra. You still didn’t give me the title ofCapowhen you took over as Don. Despite the fact that I was on your side when you killed our father."
"Good riddance," Massimo sneers.
"The one thing we can all agree on." I crack my neck. "Still doesn’t negate the fact that I only becameCapowhen Seb decided he wanted to move away from theCosa Nostraand start his media company."
"And you did it on your own steam." Michael widens his stance. "It wasn’t me deciding that you would becomeCaposimply because you’re second born. You proved yourself to the clan. It was clear you were best placed to succeed Seb."
"And now you’re looking to legalize theCosa Nostraitself. The sameCosa Nostrawhich has been around since the early nineteenth century," I snap.
"Which you knew when you becameCapo. Plus, we’ll still be around; only instead of running guns and planning routes for illegal activities, we’ll be planning corporate mergers and takeovers," Michael retorts.
"You mean, driven by the stock market and shareholders—"
"Instead of being driven by gun fights and clashes with our rivals," Michael cuts in.
"We’ll be slaves to a nine-to-five routine." I roll my shoulders.
"And come back to our wives alive."
Michael and I glare at each other. My brother has all of the arguments down pat. I hate to admit it, but he also makes sense. I’d definitely like to start a day without having to worry about whether I’ll be able to see my Angel again. I shake my head.Cazzo!
This is exactly what I was afraid of: You get married, have fantastic sex, know for a fact your woman is warming your bed, and just like that, you’ve lost your balls. You’ve already misplaced the edge that keeps you alive when you’re out there facing down your enemies. That keenness that helps you survive when all else fails. That alertness, when all of your senses are firing and you feel completely in your body and one-hundred-percent alive… How I feel when I’m with her.
An electric shock runs up my spine. I straighten.Fuck, fuck, fuck.It can’t be. I can’t have fallen for her, can I? I've always known it was a possibility, but I thought I guarded myself against it. Apparently not. She was meant to be a means to fulfilling my Nonna's last wish, but I feel more for her than I’ve ever felt for anyone else in my life, Nonna included.
"Luca?" Michael’s voice cuts through the noise in my head. "You okay,fratello?"
I shake my head.
"Luca?" Massimo touches my shoulder. "You seem like you’ve seen a ghost."
"Nonna’s ghost having the last laugh, apparently," I say bitterly.
Michael and Massimo look at each other, then Michael turns to me. "You’ve been through a lot this past week. Getting ambushed—"
"—A moment of losing focus, that’s all," I grouse.
