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“Thing is, your mother didn’t know when to shut up. Found out about my dealings with that first development downtown. We were working with the city, pushing through the process of evicting people so we could hike prices, and she was giving me shit about it. Telling me it wasn’t right, threatening to go to the press, like she had any fuckin’ say in the matter. She told me your grandfather would be sick, seeing me, as if I gave a fuck. All the fuckin’ kumbaya bullshit of helping out the community, being a staple—it wasn’t profitable.” He shakes his head and sighs.
“She wanted the jewelry and the designer clothes and the big fuckin’ house but didn’t want to be tied to what got us those things. I was over it. Why have a wife when I could have any woman I wanted and not have to deal with her bullshit in my ear? Why fund her lifestyle when I could live free? Of course, just like this whore, she had pulled all the men to her side. Seems a weakness of us Carluccio men, to get manipulative cunts twisted up in our business. So, I needed to make it seem like an accident, like it was unplanned.”
Carmine has moved back as he talked until he’s leaning on his desk, arms crossed on his chest, ankles crossed like he has not a care in the world.
Like he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the ticking time bomb that is Dante.
And that’s what my husband is right now. He, too, shifted so I can see his profile as he stares down his father, and the look is bubbling fury. He’s struggling to take in all of the information, to process it and respond accordingly.
It kills me to know that the words Carmine is speaking—they make sense to him.
They fit into whatever timeline Dante has as a reference. I watch his face, knowing how much his mother meant to him, knowing how long he spent convincing himself his father was a good man.
And even though he told me he believed me, that he was on my side, that our mission was to take down Carmine and Paulie, I think a small part of him still was clinging to the hope his father would surprise us all and turn up decent. Reveal some kind of alternate ending where he was good all along.
Watching his secret hopes shatter right in front of me is heartbreaking.
“I was tired of her nagging. Told her to go to the deli for lunch, called the hit.”
His father called the hit on the mother of his children.
Oh my fucking god.
“We’ll have to set up something similar for her.” He tips his head my way. “Already talked to Paulie about it; he agrees. I was hoping we could wait until the wedding, wait for the Russos to become family, but I can’t see it. She’s playing games, Dante.”
He’s speaking like what he admitted didn’t just destroy his son.
He’s speaking like I’m not in the room.
He’s speaking like he’s some higher power who doesn’t have to abide by human fucking decency.
“She’s a cunt just like her mother, just like your mother. They all think they can get power. Look what happened to fuckin’ Tony: let Teresa feel that power for too long and now we’re stuck with her and he’s a guest of the state.”
When my eyes move from Carmine to Dante again, the anger and aggression have left his face.
It’s blank.
He flipped the switch.
He’s stone-cold mafioso.
He’s the man I watched break another man’s wrist for touching me.
He’s the man who ordered his second to take care of another for calling me a name.
He’s the man who threatened to ruin a woman’s family forbeing mean to me.
And he’s staring at a man who wants to have me killed.
I don’t fear for my life in this room.
I fear for how Dante will feel when this is all done and over with.
“We’ll be doing no such thing,” Dante says, his voice cool and smooth. His father pauses before speaking.
“We absolutely will,” Carmine says.
“That’s my wife you’re threatening.” The room goes cold. “You threaten my wife’s life, and I’ll have no choice but to end yours.”
