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Letting out a sigh, I look at him and reply, “And I want to keep you safe. As the oldest between us, it’s my duty.” Leaning forward, I place my hand on his shoulder and give him a squeeze. “I promised your dad I’d look out for you. Let me keep my promise.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, then he nods. “Okay.”
Shoving the car door open, I say, “Come. Let’s get you some food.”
He chuckles as he climbs out, and the moment we walk into the restaurant, I hear Giulio’s stomach growl loudly.
“Place your order, then meet me in the office,” I mutter before leaving Giulio in the main section of the restaurant.
Just as I step into my office, my phone starts to vibrate, and when I pull it out, I see Franco’s name on the screen.
Franco’s one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra. I’m close with Dario, Angelo, and Damiano, but Franco’s my best friend.
Answering with a smile, I say, “Hey. What’s up?”
I hear him yawn before he mutters, “Fuck, I’m going to die of sleep deprivation.”
I chuckle as I take a seat behind my desk, and while I switch on the laptop, I say, “That’s what happens when you have triplets.”
Franco got married a few years ago and has just become a proud father of three beautiful babies. I haven’t seen much of him, because his family takes up all of his time.
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen much of Angelo as well. He’s just as busy with his wife and child.
I’m not the only single one in the group. It doesn’t look like Dario and Damiano will settle down anytime soon, so I still get to hang out with them every other week.
“Yeah-yeah.” Franco yawns again before clearing his throat. “Your shipment reached Peru without any problems.”
“Thanks for the update.” Leaning back in the chair, I ask, “When are we getting together?”
“You can always come over and help with the kids.”
Laughter explodes from me. “I’m going to pass. I don’t do well with crying babies.”
Giulio comes into the office and takes a seat across from me.
Just then, I hear a baby cry on the other end of the phone, and Franco lets out a tired sigh. “Gotta go.”
“Good luck,” I chuckle before ending the call.
“Franco?” Giulio asks.
“Yeah. He’s tired as fuck. The triplets are keeping him up.”
Guilio stares at me momentarily, then asks, “Are you ever going to get married and have kids?”
Shaking my head, I turn my attention to the laptop screen. “No.”
“But you need an heir to take over when you retire.”
My eyes flick to his face before returning to the screen. “I have Elio.”
Giulio takes a pen from the holder on my desk, and grabbing a sticky note, he starts drawing cartoons. “Yeah, but Elio’s older than you. What if he retires?”
“Christ, you’re just full of questions today,” I mutter.
I open the document listing the restaurant’s stock and check that Alain, the head chef, didn’t order too many ingredients. The fucker once ordered enough trout to feed an army, and three-quarters of it had to be thrown in the trash.
Giulio leans forward and sticks the little square of paper to the screen before grinning at me.
