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As the eulogy came to a close, I realized I needed air and headed onto the front walkway, staring out at the snow-covered grounds.
From the day Luciano was born, he’d been waiting to take the helm from my father. As firstborn, he’d been required to follow in our father’s footsteps, learning the nuances of the business, the methods used since the beginning of time to keep the wolves at bay. He’d never had the desire to excel in sports or even academics, although somehow he’d managed to do both. Instead of prom night, he’d attended a business meeting with Pops in Chicago, trying to form an alliance with the Callahan Irish mob.
He’d been unsuccessful, but Luciano had built the bridge while in college. That was because of the Brotherhood he’d established by then. My brother was a born leader, whether he’d liked it or not.
At least I’d been allowed to engage in whatever activity suited me. Hell, I’d considered becoming a rockstar, forming a band at fifteen. Snorting, I was surprised Pops hadn’t tossed me out of the house then.
Not long after, he’d sat me down, telling me in no uncertain terms that I would find a business application that made him proud. The ‘or else’ was implied. Or else no money. Or else disowned. Or else my life would be taken if I crossed any lines.
I’d wised up really quickly, deciding right then and there I would have no part of the great Giordano family. He’d made good on most of his threats, cutting me off from my trust fund, eliminating me from any pictures and possible mention of my name in the paper. That’s when I’d started to use another name for business, something my mother told me I’d regret later.
Luciano had made the overture only four months before, slowly luring me into the family fold. That didn’t mean the various soldiers had instant respect. That would only come with time. If only I’d accepted Luciano’s request at helping him with the Morettis earlier he’d still be alive. Guilt was a hard burden to bear.
But here I was, accepting my brother’s place. I was blood, which meant something to my father. We were a family steeped in ceremony, both religious and what many would call cult-like behavior. However, it wasn’t my choice to break the tradition. I’d accepted the position as leader of our family.
“I don’t think I need to tell you how sorry I am.”
I’d know Constantine’s voice anywhere. He’d been my brother’s closest friend, often forgetting they were supposed to be on opposing sides. “I’m glad you were able to be here.”
“You’re certain it was an accident?” he asked.
I turned to look at him, surprising at seeing the worry lines on his face. “I’m not certain of anything, but his death will not go without punishment.”
He nodded, keeping the respect by not asking me any questions. What I did know about the Brotherhood is that if I asked for assistance, Constantine would burn down the city if necessary.
“I wanted to pay you my respects, Don Giordano. And to deliver you this.” He retrieved an envelope from his pocket, giving me a respectful nod. I had yet to be proclaimed the Don. Even that had a ceremony of its own. The old traditions Luciano had allowed but hated, doing everything in his power to change things.
I took it from him, offering him my respect as well. The Brotherhood considered themselves kings, rivals in a dangerous game of power, ruthless predators who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. I’d learned those very words from Luciano years before and it had stuck in my mind as a mantra.
“I’ll wait for your decision and do not hesitate if there is anything I or the other brothers can do.” Constantine’s words were heartfelt.
Even if I accepted the gesture, that did not mean I was automatically provided a seat. I would need to earn the respect of the others, plus perform some secret ceremony that Luciano had refused to mention. I’d thought it was ridiculous, something kids make up. Now I was starting to believe it could be another lifeline.
We could all use more of those.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed three of the others standing only thirty feet away. They were watching me. Judging me. Sizing me up in order to be able to make their vote.
My brother’s death had placed what I’d considered a curse over my head. The noose around my neck would be next.
Luciano had been born with a cross to bear, his skin seared with the family’s crest when he turned eighteen.
After tonight, I would bear the symbol as well, my singed skin and the pain I’d be forced to endure something I’d once feared.
Now I couldn’t wait for the ceremony to begin.
* * *
Flowers.
I stood outside her hospital room door, holding a damn bouquet as if the girl’s health mattered to me. Why I’d purchased them I wasn’t certain. Maybe to hide the fact I wanted to look her in the eye. Then I’d know the truth about what happened. At least I could use them as a damn excuse if anyone bothered to challenge my reason for visiting.
I’d also brought a weapon with me, the hatred I had for her remaining. I’d never known the power of grief until recently, but it was almost as powerful as bloodlust or sadistic desires of the flesh.
As I opened the door, I expected she’d have a room full of visitors. Seeing no one, I walked inside, never blinking as I stared at her. Sarah. I repeated her name in my mind several times, even whispering it more than once. The syllables floated across my tongue. They were soft, feminine, and easy to say even if done so in anger.
She seemed so innocent, her long hair splayed out across the thin pillow, her porcelain skin shimmering even in the ugly light hanging over her bed. Sighing, I placed the roses on the small table in front of two other arrangements, moving closer. My muscles tensed as I peered down at her. Jesus Christ, my balls were tight as drums, my arousal an instant reaction just like it had been before. My earlier assessment had been right. She was stunning, her voluptuous lips adding to the intense longing that had occurred the moment I’d laid eyes on her.
Sleeping beauty.
