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“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them,” Nico replies.
“I said that’s enough!” Caishen yanks my arm and shoves me to two of the men, who grip hold and drag me out.
I look back at my husband, who stares back, utterly defeated.
“I gotta say I’m a little disappointed. I heard a lot about you, but it must’ve been lies,” Caishen taunts as he leads me to the car and turns to me.
“You know, I could’ve just taken you. The moment I found out about you. It wouldn’t have been that hard. But this way was more fun. Lasting. Those deaths are on you for the rest of your life.”
The next thing I know, a cloth is put over my head.
Chapter Twenty-One
CESARE
If there’s one thing I learned as the capo of the Outfit, it’s to always stay several steps ahead. No one man will ever have full power or control, but you can always tip the scales in your favor, if you play your cards right.
It’s what my own father taught me and what I hope to instill in my eldest, Dominic. He’s as stubborn as he is impulsive, and if he doesn’t learn to fight the fury that lurks inside of him, it will be his fatal flaw. As it was nearly mine. Patience and planning is how the Violantes got to where we are. American politics is our playground.
Dom and I were just discussing our next steps on the Avara Construction project when Donna speaks up.
“Enough talk about work. We’re only here once a week. Let’s just enjoy dinner. You don’t relax enough, Papa,” Donna chimes in.
“I agree,” Dom replies with a mouthful as he finishes his glass.
Every week, my children and I get together to make a homemade meal to share. I wish I could do it more often, but my schedule barely allows this. Once they got old enough, I made them start helping me in the kitchen.
Any true Italian should be able to make our food. Despite growing up with maids and chefs, I want my children to be connected to our roots. I only wished Anya could’ve been here with us year-round, but we tried to make up for it during our Italian summers.
I’m so proud of her. I’m proud of all my children. They are the best thing in my life. I don’t understand how a man like me was blessed with such fortune, but I won’t dwell on or squander it.
“This is probably the best focaccia we ever made!” Donna explains, earning a chuckle from me.
Dom, taking after me, is the good cook in the family. My daughters not so much. Donna is a baker, and according to her, it’s “different from cooking.” And I wouldn’t trust Anya to boil water.
“Not bad, ducky,” Dom compliments his sister with her old nickname she pretends to hate.
Even as adults, Donna and Dom still come over once a week to cook and have dinner. We’re wrapping up when I hear my phone go off. I never had the luxury of putting it on silent. That’s just one of the many prices you pay as the boss. You’re always on call. But I also leave it on because of my children.
Nico’s name appears on my screen, and I’m immediately on high alert. Nico has never called me himself. Though I don’t show it, my blood is hot, and my skin feels out of place. I glance up at my son, who’s watching me intently.
Without a word to Dom, I lift the phone to my ear, knowing I’ll never be prepared for anything he could have to say.
“Nico,” I answer coolly.
Dom immediately stands, knocking his chair over, and Donna’s head shoots up with wide eyes filled with panic.
Nico doesn’t respond.
Glancing up at Dom, his fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white, nostrils flaring. Putting the phone on speaker, I crack my knuckles.
“What happened to my daughter?”
Because what else can it be?
After another moment of silence, Nico lets out a breath. A sigh of defeat.No. Finally replies in barely a whisper, clearly distraught.
“I fucked up.”
