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Don Battaglia’s eyes swerved to Elena, who hugged her body to my right. As soon as she saw that opening, she took it. “Hear him out, Papa. It doesn’t hurt to listen first and decide second.”
He took a moment, his gun slowly easing from my skin. “Speak.” He simply said.
“Don Bartolini was a Trojan horse just like my father. Moretti confessed just before shooting my brother dead,” I explained, not masking the pain in my voice.
“What’s your deal, Giancarlo? I don’t have all day.”
“Give me an army. Just for tonight. Give me an army, and I will tear Moretti down. I will finish the job my father started all those years ago. I will hand over his territory to you. I want none of it. All I want is Elena.”
He stared at me before crouching to meet my eyes. “You’ll never deserve my daughter.”
“No one ever will.” She was too precious, too singular for any man to deserve. “But I will spend my whole life trying to be what she needs. I have nothing to give, you know that already, but she won’t have a want in this world because I will provide her with everything that her heart desires.”
“She needs a Don.” He coldly said before motioning to the man behind me to pull me to my feet. “Can you be that?”
“I’m the king of nothing.”
“You can be a Battaglia,” Elena chimed in before turning to her father. “He’s an honorable man, Papa. That’s what you want for your legacy. He’s capable, and you can mentor him to be as great as you are.”
My little minx knew how to play to our weaknesses. Those weapons of hers hit exactly where it hurt more — straight in our proudful mafiosi egos.
Don Battaglia paused for a minute, considering his options, looking at the man behind me and silently asking for his opinion. That was rare in such a powerful man like the Don standing in front of me.
“Bring me Moretti’s head, and we can discuss it.”
Chapter 10
Giancarlo
The night was darker than usual. Even the bright white of the falling snow was hard to see.
The streets were empty while people spent time with the ones they loved. It was Christmas Eve, afterall, and families gathered in the warmth of their homes to celebrate.
I had no family to run to, but after tonight, I sure as hell was making sure to build one of my own. Don Battaglia could promise me his reign, his fortune, but all I truly wanted was to build a family with Elena.
With a blow of warm breath into my hands, I looked to the right and then the left, to the line of Battaglia soldati that hung on my every command. I’d make sure each one of them returned to their families tonight, too.
Moretti would be feasting with his whores, fireplace lit, whiskey flowing like water. He didn’t care about family, so each of the men standing guard tonight was hanging by a thread of revolt to be forced to be there while he ate and drank and fucked until he passed out.
I’d been one of those men, only Toni and I never minded. After all, there wasn’t anyone waiting for us at home.
Not this time. There was a sense of urgency in my gut. The need to get this done and run back to the woman waiting for me. I couldn’t wait to get lost in her arms again. That pussy would be the death of me, and I didn’t mind one single bit.
“This is our chance,” I whispered down the lines as the guards completed their round. I knew each path, each schedule, each maneuver, and Moretti didn’t even bother to change it after this morning. I wasn’t even sure he knew how.
Slowly, we moved like predators in the snow, our tracks quickly covered by the fresh coat coming down from the sky. Moretti was surrounded, and he didn’t even know it.
Each soldato was standing outside a window, looking into the dinner hall, while I walked right through the front door. Two men followed me like shadows, finishing off any Moretti men that stood in my way.
This was so easy.
As soon as I opened the double doors to the dining hall, I understood why we had so little resistance. The fireplace was lit, music was going, even the whores were here, but Moretti was nowhere to be found.
“Fuck!” I shouted, my foot kicking a side cart filled with bottles of booze, tipping it over and littering the ground with broken glass and alcohol.
The women turned to me, their faces falling as they took in the fucking armada behind me.
“Where is he?” My voice was dipped in all the hell-raging war in my mind. The fucker was one step ahead, and I’d trusted his laziness and stupidity to work to my advantage.
