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His eyes opened wide and he dropped his arms altogether. I could tell he knew he’d been defeated.
I backed further away, smiling from the look on his face. The seed had been planted. That’s all that mattered.
“You won’t get away with this,” he hissed. Now his face was beet red, his mind spinning with what he had planned.
“Oh, I know I will, Mayor Washington. I’ll expect to see you at the wedding.” I turned around, enjoying the way he cursed my soul into hell.
Perhaps he hadn’t gathered my soul had been spoken for a long time ago.
* * *
Respect and loyalty.
In the Cosa Nostra, they were valued more than wealth or even power, certainly more than love. I was keenly aware that love was not only blind but often stupid, causing great wars over the generations.
I’d heard stories of my great-great-grandfather, a man who’d died by his own sword because of falling in love with his brother’s wife. The child born eight months later had been spawned from his loins, something that had been covered up for decades. The dirty little secret had tainted the Giordano blood.
Not that it mattered any longer.
It was a story told over cognac and cigars, my father boasting how brave the man had been to accept his punishment without question.
He’d believed his children to be so bold and brave. While the sentiment and my great-great-grandfather’s act had seemed laughable in adolescence, I now understood just how powerful love could be.
It would ultimately condemn me, but I’d enjoy every moment of my life until then.
Two days had passed since giving the ultimatum to the mayor. He’d canceled an appearance on a local morning show, remaining locked inside his house the entire time. Several of my men were paying attention, watching his every move from a distance. He’d yet to make any obvious overtures to anyone, but I knew it was only a matter of time.
I’d allowed Sarah to contact her mother, which had at least calmed my bride’s nerves. I also believed it had helped the lovely Emily accept that her husband was a deviant. I was certain she’d mention the call to her husband, which I hoped would push the good mayor into breaching whatever cloak had been forced around the asshole playing the real game.
While I wasn’t a man of patience, it was required in order to hunt down the assholes who continued to threaten our livelihood. Several of our businesses had suffered unexplainable losses. Even Club Rio had seen a drop in membership. If I had to guess, I’d say the weakest links had been threatened by the unknown third party.
Even the hushed whispers on the street indicated people were afraid. The tension was mounting but no one was doing any talking. Cartels and syndicates always boasted. That was a method used that would place the proper fear of God into people. The quiet wasn’t just deafening. It was outrageous, keeping my blood pressure high.
At least with working alongside the Morettis, there would be a better chance of flushing out the son of a bitch playing games.
I’d returned to Club Rio, wanting the meeting to be on my turf.
What was required today pissed me off but was necessary in order to keep the peace. As I slid my card into the slot, something drew my attention, and I turned my head toward the busy road. There was no reason to believe anyone was watching, but I sensed someone was paying as much attention to my whereabouts as I was to the mayor’s.
“What is it?” Dillon asked.
“I don’t know exactly. Keep an ear to the streets. I have a feeling the snake will rear its ugly head soon.”
“Yeah, I don’t like the lack of chatter. I’ll break some heads later to find out what’s going on.”
“Not until the pieces are in place,” I told him.
After exhaling, I opened the door, walking inside and taking the stairs toward one of the private conference rooms. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see my father already inside.
He’d made himself a drink and was staring out the window at the passing traffic. I could tell he had something on his mind other than the business meeting at hand.
I’d barely closed the door when he started talking. “Did you know I was supposed to marry someone else?” he asked me casually, as if we were old buddies out for a nightcap.
“No. That’s not something you ever told me. In fact, I don’t remember the last time we had a decent discussion.”
“That needs to change,” he said, far too quietly for what I was used to.
“What do you need to get off your conscience, Pops?” I moved toward the bar, uncertain I wanted to hear any more of his bullshit.
