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"Let's get this over with," I growl, taking my seat in anger. Today my father’s scarf is royal blue—he means business. It doesn't matter how much I despise Frank, I must get through this meeting if that’s what my father has demanded I do.
After all, his house, his rules and if The Don Marchetti wants to burn the place down in cahoots with Frank Bonanno, then so be it.
"Today, our family's future business hangs in the balance," my father begins, his voice resonating with authority. "We need to secure this arms deal with Frank Bonanno since his father has now handed down the legacy to him.
Given that, I only thought my son should broker this first deal with Frank and I too shall hand this segment over from father to son. It's crucial for our survival to change with the times." He looks directly at me, his dark eyes intense. "Dario, I trust you to handle these negotiations."
I nod, wearily acknowledging my father's words. I’ve heard no news about Luca Bonanno having announced Frank as Don. The fact that it has been kept so quiet is noteworthy, to say the least.
It seems my father wants to match this move, at least in part, by making me responsible for the arms deals. As much as I loathe Frank and his men, I put aside my personal feelings for the good of La Familia.
"Alright," I steel myself "Let's discuss terms."
In the following hours of negotiations, I pour over every detail of the proposed arms deal, ensuring that we're not being taken advantage of. I make counter offers, researching market prices and analyzing potential risks.
My determination fuels me as I strategize, knowing that the security of my family – and mafioso – rests on my shoulders.
When the time comes, I sit down at the table with Frank Bonanno, the tension between us almost suffocating. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. As much as I want to lash out at him, I can't let my anger interfere.
"Here are our terms," I state firmly, passing a document across the table. "We've considered your offer, and this is what we're willing to accept."
Frank raises an eyebrow as he skims the document, clearly unimpressed. "You expect me to agree to this?" he scoffs. "I vostri prezzi sono troppo alti." – Your prices are too high.
"Those are fair market prices," I reply, maintaining my composure. "We're not going to compromise the quality of our weapons or our family's reputation for a few extra dollars."
"Then perhaps we'll have to take our business elsewhere," Frank threatens, his voice dripping with malice.
"Go ahead," I challenge, meeting his gaze head-on. "But remember that the Marchettis have resources and connections that you won't find anywhere else."
Frank's lips curl into a sneer as he tosses the document back onto the table. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to pay that much for these arms."
"Those prices are non-negotiable," I retort, refusing to back down. My father watches like a hawk over us, but doesn’t interrupt.
"Fine, let's negotiate something else then," Frank says, leaning back in his chair with a calculating glint in his eyes. "How about we sweeten the deal by throwing in some...other goods? Cut the price on the weapons, and I'll guarantee you access to certain resources that I know you've been after for quite some time."
My jaw clenches as I consider his offer, well aware of the dangerous precedent it would set. This man cannot be trusted, but part of me wonders if there's an opportunity here I can't afford to miss.
"Your 'other goods' don't interest me," I reply coldly. "Our terms stand as they are. Take it or leave it."
The tension between us is palpable, each side waiting for the other to blink first. But before either of us can make a move, the sound of shattering glass rips through the room.
A gunshot.
"Get down!" My father yells, dropping to the floor behind his desk. I do the same, heart pounding in my chest as I quickly survey the scene.
Miraculously, no one appears to be hurt. "There's a sniper outside!" My father shouts, his voice filled with rage. Panic sets in as I realize that whoever is targeting us has come too close for comfort. It's not just business anymore – this is personal.
"Who did you bring with you, Bonanno?" my father demands, glaring at Frank where he crouches low to the ground, his hands held up defensively.
"Nobody! I swear!" He insists, genuine fear flashing across his face. "This wasn't me!"
I want to believe him, but can I afford to take that chance? The safety of my family is on the line. As I weigh my options, I know one thing for certain: a war has come knocking on our door, and there's no going back now.
"Frank, if you're lying to us," I start, my voice low and threatening, "I swear on my family's name that—"
Marco interrupts us, his eyes scanning the outside for any signs of the sniper. "We have bigger problems right now. We need to secure this place."
"Agreed," Frank replies, seemingly still shaken from the sudden attack. His men surround him, ready to whisk him out of the room at a moment's notice. He locks eyes with me briefly before they escort him out, and I can't help but wonder if, just maybe, he is telling the truth.
