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“There is hope for you, after all.”
I shake my head. “Hope is an emotion for fools. It means you have lost control, which we all know is the beginning of the end.”
She says with a dash of irritation. “You will learn that hope is the one thing that gets us through. It drives ambition and makes you stronger. Never lose hope, Killian, because if you do, you have lost everything.”
“If you say so, Nonna.” I turn away and am surprised when she pulls me back and stares at me with a hint of sadness in her beautiful green eyes.
“Open your heart, Killian. Let emotion inside and stop trying to control every aspect of your life, your feelings included. Only then will you be as powerful as your grandfather, because without love or emotion, you are weak.”
I say nothing and stare at her with indifference, not believing a word she says because since when did emotion play any part in my life? It certainly didn’t get me where I am today.
I shrug it off and turn away, her soft sigh accompanying me and as she follows behind, my mind turns to what’s waiting behind the closed door we head toward.
CHAPTER2
KILLIAN
My father knocks respectfully but waits for no command to enter and as we head inside, I don’t question the choice of room.
Don Vieri’s den.
The place he classes his sanctuary and not the location of your usual death-bed scene, but not surprising given every meeting we ever had with him has happened inside these four walls.
The light is dim, the heavy drapes closed against the glare of the sun, and I make out his figure sitting in his chair behind the walnut desk.
My father steps forward and says in slight disbelief, “Father.”
“Benito.”
If anything, the tone of my grandfather’s voice is amused and sounds nothing like the one of a dying man.
“What’s going on?”
My father sounds surprised, which makes me want to roll my eyes because surely he knows his own father by now.
“Sit.”
The short sharp command etched in the rumble of authority causes us all to drop silently into the nearest available chair, and I note my aunt’s small smile that she quickly disguises with a small cough.
Nonna moves to stand beside her husband, and he reaches for her hand and stands, holding out his chair so she can sit there instead. I feel my heart beating faster, which is the only reaction I have because this is not the meeting of a dying man with his children. If anything, it appears to be an intervention and I wonder what the occasion is.
My grandfather stares at each one of us in turn and as his eyes fall on me, I stare back with no expression, causing him to nod as if he is happy about that.
“I’m dying.”
He states the obvious as he glances around the room and then says with a sigh, “But not today. Probably not tomorrow and I expect not next week either.”
“I don’t understand.” My father dares to speak and is rewarded with a curt, “Listen, Benito. For once in your life, shut the fuck up and listen before you speak.”
My father glowers at him but has the sense to remain silent and my grandfather exhales slowly.
“I brought you here for a reason and knew that my death is the only one you would react to.”
He glances at nonna and laughs softly. “Ariana said it was cruel. I disagree. I have spent a lifetime molding cruelty into business, and this is just another day at the office. I had to be certain of your attention and it appears my calculations were correct as always.”
I doubt anybody in this room cares that we have been summoned here under false pretenses and, like me, are merely curious as to the reason why. If anything, it surprises me that he felt the need for the theatrics because when Don Vieri speaks, we ignore him at our peril.
He turns to my father and says wearily, “Benito. You have enjoyed a relatively easy life, purely of your own choosing.”
