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Maybe this is her first act in making up for that.
Sandro gives a little shrug. “Then we should celebrate the closer ties between our Families.”
Maestra has always been willing to adapt to changing times and needs. She just gives a crooked smile at Sandro’s words. “We should,” she agrees, “since it seems each of us here got what they wanted in the end.” She stands. “Why don’t I walk you all out,” she suggests. But when we get to the front door, she holds me back a moment on the steps, as Max points out to Sandro the nearest folly in the garden.
“Sandro drives a hard bargain,” she tells me, “but you appear to have his blessing, however reluctantly given. But Fabrizio, I must confess, this pairing does give me pause.” She looks at me steadily. “You know we Espositos enjoy our privacy. I will expect your continued discretion regarding our business.”
“Of course.”
She looks over my shoulder at the gardens, apparently lost in a memory. “But love should be nurtured wherever it flowers,” she says. “Especially in times like these.”
“Thank you, Maestra.”
Anna-Vittoria is silent for a long moment. “Does your father know?” she asks at last.
My face twists despite myself. “He does.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He cut ties. And so have I.”
She closes her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. But if you want to make me feel better…”
“Yes?” Her eyes almost twinkle. Almost. But Anna-Vittoria Esposito is not the twinkling kind. I know that all too well.
“Tell me that you’re proud of me, Mom.”
She pulls me into a hug. “Always.”
CHAPTER52
MAX
During the timeI’ve been an envoy to the Espositos, the Villa has become more familiar to me. Not as familiar as Redwood, of course, and nowhere near as dear. Today, however, feels a little different. There’s a charge running through the Villa’s grounds, a sense of occasion as Espositos mill around me chatting and laughing.
Word went out quickly through the ranks about the ceremony today. Anna-Vittoria has formally recognized Bricker and Nico as sons and heirs, and Bricker is back as Capo of the crew he originally chose—minus one traitor and one decent kid.
I take a second to say a prayer for Rook. I know he’d be as proud as anyone here today to see Bricker recognized. And after the chaos and betrayals that the crew has been through, they deserve a chance to celebrate each other, and their leader.
And hell, if Bricker and his crew can pull through something like Pony’s betrayal, and come together closer than ever afterward, I have a lot of hope for us Castellanis, so long as we can keep the Bernardis under control. Things have been much better under Sandro’s leadership, especially since he started getting on better with Jack and Julian.
I’m the only Castellani in attendance today. The only outsider at all. But I don’t feel like an outsider with Bricker next to me, introducing me to everyone who comes up to congratulate him.
“Man, I could use a drink,” he sighs to me, after maybe the twentieth conversation.
“I’ll get you a beer,” I offer, and take myself off to the refreshments table. It’s not the kind of fancy party that Darian Thornfield-Hayes would oversee at Redwood, more like a backyard get-together—in a really, really big backyard. So there are bottles of wine and beer and a few soft options, too, sitting in big tubs of ice for anyone to help themselves.
As I pick out a beer for Bricker, Van Delligatti approaches me. There’s a lightness in his step these days, and the scowl I once thought was his natural expression has been replaced with something milder. “Max,” he says. “How are you?”
Max? That’s new, too. “I’m doing okay, Van. You?”
He gives a pained chuckle. “Well, here’s the thing: I owe you an apology. A real fucking big one. I’m sorry I acted like such a dipshit the whole time you were with us.”
“Apology accepted,” I say at once, because it’s always better to have allies than enemies. But as he keeps talking, his sincerity shines through.
The guy really means it.
