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“Don’t I work hard for this family, father? I make us money. I keep things on track. What does Giovanni do except cook shitty meatballs and lounge around the house?”
“He got married. He’s one up on you. Go see your brother. He has something he wishes to discuss with you.”
He settles back in his chair, picking up his newspaper and leaning down over it, checking the football scores, seeing if the fixed matches went the way they were supposed to.
I leave him to it, walking out of the study with one thing on my mind. If I can find that woman from last night, and if she is pregnant, all I need to do is get hitched to her. Then I become the Don. I take over the family. Giovanni can’t run it into the ground.
I find my brother in the kitchen, cooking shitty meatballs like I expected. “Little brother,” he says with a grin, pushing his spectacles up his nose. “Pops tell you the plan?”
I pour myself a coffee instead of answering.
“Looks like I’m taking over,” he says with a grin that makes me want to punch his teeth out. “When I do, you won’t be able to do your own thing anymore. You’ll have to do what you’re told.”
“Try telling me what to do, see where that gets you.” I take a sip of coffee. It’s bitter. I know how it feels.
“Father wants us to get along,” he says. “Truce?”
“You going to pay me back for trashing my Ferrari?”
“The steering on that was shitty. It wasn’t my fault.”
“You were drunk at the wheel.”
“It was my wedding night. Of course I was drunk.” He gets himself a coffee, holding it out toward me. “Peace?”
I let him tap his mug against mine. “What do you want, Giovanni? I’ve got shit to do today.”
“The old man wants Don Moretti taking out.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’re sure?”
“Had enough of his insults. You know he ordered one of our made men killed last week.”
“Joey was killed in a shootout with the cops.”
“Moretti had the cops outside the bank ready and waiting. I just wanted to tell you I’m going to take him out next week and I don’t want you getting in my way. Got it?”
“How you going to do him?”
He taps the side of his nose. “Wait and see.”
I drain my mug. “Good luck with that.”
I walk out of the kitchen and head straight for Matteo’s office at the back of the house. He’s buried in paperwork as usual. With his neck hunched and his white hair a mess, he looks a lot like a barn owl with a tie. “Nico,” he says with a smile when I sit down opposite him. “I’m guessing by the look on your face, you’ve been to see your father.”
“How soon can you put a crew together for me?”
He frowns, reaching across the papers on his desk for a battered old notebook. “What for?”
“To take out Don Moretti.”
“I did wonder. He’s been insulting us for long enough. Sent me a note last week asking if I wanted to come work for him.”
“What about his consigliere?”
“Heart attack. I told him where to go but it’s not good if he feels ballsy enough to even make the offer.”
“How soon can you get me a crew?”
