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“I hear you’ve been quite busy.” Fontana ignores the server that comes up to our table, laying down menus made of heavy card stock with thick script. Wine is poured for all of us, but I don’t touch mine yet. “A resort in Vegas, I hear. And pulling further back from the deals your father made. You’ll take a dip in income, you know.”
“We can handle it. The projections for the investment are excellent. And Lorenzo does well handling the deals that we’re keeping intact for now.” I glance at my brother, who is sipping his wine and watching Fontana carefully. Lorenzo might prefer the old ways, but he also knows how dangerous Fontana can be.
Next to Fontana, Leone is silent. I can’t help but wonder how much input he really has—how much Fontana has really forgiven him for the rebellion that led to his daughter’s deflowering and a near-coup in the Family. If Fontana is just waiting for him to put a foot wrong, so that he can put a knife in his son-in-law’s back without consequence.
“Besides, we have other business ventures,” I continue. “And we’re careful to stagger it as we back out of some of the older dealings that my father had. We don’t want to cause too many ripples, of course, or too much trouble. Slow and steady.”
“A wise decision. Of course, a wiser one would be not to try to fix what isn’t broken.” Fontana pauses. “Have you considered what to do about Don Pesci’s successor? Altiere should never have been allowed to hold territory anywhere. He’s an upstart with money and no blood to speak of. An up-jumped son of a made man without the right to call himself a don.”
There’s more venom than I’ve heard in Fontana’s voice before, his iron-grey brows drawn sharply together. He’s usually unflappable, hiding all his emotion well enough that even those closest to him rarely know what he’s thinking, but that cover is shaken by Altiere. A glance at Lorenzo tells me that he’s as concerned by it as I am.
Maybe there’s something to Lorenzo’s worry after all.
“I saw him at a recent gala I went to,” I tell Fontana smoothly. “An event for patrons of the ballet. I can’t imagine he poses too much of a threat. If anything, the pressure will get to him eventually, and he’ll make a mistake. Then you can step in and set things right.”
“You could have all of Los Angeles.” Fontana looks at me appraisingly. “If you removed Altiere, I wouldn’t stand in your way. With Pesci gone and no one to follow him, I would have no complaints with you taking over the territory. So long as you held off on pulling out of some of the more—lucrative deals that your father arranged while he was alive.”
There it is.I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, to find out what Fontana wanted of me. He wants me to stop my withdrawal from our family’s illegal activities because, no doubt, it’s hurting his bottom line and his connections. He wants me to bend to his will, rather than doing things as I please.
Unfortunately, I have no interest in letting anyone—not even the head of the Family—tell me what to do. And I have no interest in doing Fontana’s dirty work for him by being the one he sends to deal with Altiere.
“I don’t need more territory,” I tell him smoothly, just as the server comes with the salad course. “Altiere is welcome to try to manage what he has. And I have no interest in deepening the ties that my father established.”
I see Lorenzo look at me sharply out of the corner of my eye. I know he disagrees. But I’m not going to allow myself to be under Fontana’s thumb. Not any more than is necessary to protect my family.
Fontana’s eyebrows draw further together, and I can tell he’s displeased. “And if I decide to dispatch Altiere myself, and put a new don of his choosing in his place?”
It’s a veiled threat. I know that, and I can see Lorenzo tense. Even Carmine, who is digging into his Caesar salad and bread and wine without much of a care for the business being discussed, looks up briefly before dipping his crust into the olive oil again, as if to cover for his surprise.
I smile at Fontana, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I can play this game as well as he can. We’re evenly matched, even if he doesn’t believe it.
“Then I’ll be pleased to share a boundary with whoever you choose to take over in his stead.”
Fontana’s expression doesn’t change. He watches me for a long moment in silence, as the server returns with our entrees. Veal bolognese for him, a squid ink pasta with shrimp for Lorenzo, chicken parmigiana for Carmine, and a hearty spaghetti for me. A good, old-fashioned dish, one I enjoy despite my distaste for the Family’s old-fashioned ways. One foot in the past, and one in the future. I wonder if Fontana picks up on the reason for my choice.
He seems to consider for a moment, his hand resting on the table next to his fork. He doesn’t pick it up, and I wonder if he’s considering driving it into my throat. He wouldn’t actually do it, I know—it’s too messy.
Don Fontana no longer prefers to do his dirty work himself.
“How is your sister?” Fontana asks finally, his tone as casual as if the question means nothing, but with those four words, it’s my turn to consider where I might be able to plant the tines ofmyfork. “She’s at college, yes? A very new concept, sending our daughters to university. One I avoided with my own Lucia, and I think she is all the happier for it.”
“Aida wished to go,” I say smoothly. “Far be it from me to stop her from achieving anything she dreams of.”
“Have you thought of her marriage plans?” Fontana stabs his fork into the bolognese with emphasis. “A good son of the Family would do wonders for the Campano name. Especially with these new—directionsthat you wish to take it in.”
“If Aida wishes to marry, I’m sure she will tell me herself.” My voice remains cool and toneless, but inwardly, I’m choking on the desire to reach across the table and put my hand around his throat. “I have no interest in arranging a marriage for her.”
“Hmm.” Fontana takes a bite, chewing slowly, drawing the moment out as he takes a long sip of his wine. “There are a great many traditions that you don’t have an interest in, Campano. One might begin to wonder if you truly want to be a part of this Family at all.”
“My interest is in what is good for my own family, Don Fontana.” I inject the slightest bit of deference into my tone as I say it, just enough to keep the dinner from tipping over into clear hostility, without turning obsequious. “And I do not personally believe that forcing Aida into an unwanted marriage is good for anyone.”
The words are pointed, and I see Leone flinch. Fontana chuckles.
“My daughter might argue with you on that point. She is pleased with her husband now, and the child they have on the way. She would have neither if she were given a choice in the matter. Our daughters and sisters—they don’t always know what is best for them. Better to make those decisions ourselves, since we are better informed.”
I can feel my jaw tighten. “I will respectfully agree to disagree with you on that point, Don Fontana.”
“Of course, you would.” Fontana takes another bite. Across the table, I can see Lorenzo watching him, carefully working his way through his own meal. Carmine seems utterly insensible to the tension.
