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I look towards the direction of Raven's rooms with a bit of desperation. "Not really," I admit honestly.
"That's too bad," Enzo says to me. "You should keep those close to you informed. Your father always talked to me about what was going on, and I always let him in on the discussions of the head table, especially when he wasn't present."
I want to groan out loud, but I keep it contained. I'm really not liking this whole "Be the Head of the Family" thing. I seriously cannot understand why my brothers fought so hard for it.
"Uh, right, yes, fine," I finally say to Enzo. "Maybe it would be a good idea for us to talk."
Enzo claps me on the shoulder and leads me away from where I truly want to be.
ChapterTwenty-Two
I'm sitting with Enzo, struggling to keep my eyes from glazing over as he drones on about the latest shipment of whatever-the-hell. I nod and grunt in all the right places, but really, I'd rather be anywhere else. Preferably with Raven.
"Alright, Enzo. Thanks for the update," I say, cutting him off mid-sentence. His bushy eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn't say anything.
Good man.
I push away from the table, wincing as the chair screeches across the floor. A discordant melody that feels far too fitting for this life.
As I walk toward Raven's room, my mind drifts to her. I can almost feel her warmth, hear her gentle voice. Her hazel eyes that seem to pierce through my soul. But then, a familiar tune interrupts my thoughts. My phone vibrates in my pocket, playing the opening notes of "O Fortuna" – Primo's obnoxious ringtone.
"Whhhhaaat?" I groan as I answer the call.
"Nice to talk to you too, little brother," Primo says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is it too much to ask for you to work on that attitude?"
"Is that all? Great, consider it done. Have a nice day," I say dismissively, already moving to end the call.
"Wait!" Primo commands, his tone turning serious. "We need to talk about the Irish."
"Can't it wait?" I sigh, impatient to get back to Raven.
"Unfortunately, no."
"Fine," I acquiesce, leaning against a nearby wall. "What's up?"
"How did the dinner with Declan go?" Primo asks, his voice tense.
"Uneventful, mostly," I reply, remembering the uneasy atmosphere around the table.
"Mostly?" he presses.
"Alright, fine. He recognized Raven," I admit, the memory still fresh in my mind. "She was at the Irish cathedral where Father Murphy was murdered."
"Shit," Primo hisses through clenched teeth. "That's not good."
"Tell me about it," I snap back. "But we handled it."
"Handled it?" Primo scoffs. "You know that just makes me more nervous, right?"
"Look, everything's under control," I insist, feeling the weight of responsibility bearing down on me. I still wonder how the hell I ended up in this position.
"Fine, but be careful," Primo warns. "We can't afford any more complications with the Irish."
"Speaking of, Declan mentioned an offer we haven't responded to yet. What's that about?" I ask, my voice edged with irritation.
Primo hesitates for a moment before replying, "The Irish made a monetary demand on us. It's astronomical, Teddy. They claim it's what we owe them for not running the guns anymore."
"Either we pay up or . . . ?" I press him, sensing his discomfort.
