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I’d rewarded her time after time with orgasms, until she’d confessed that she was in love with me. It was months later when I’d admitted what I was looking for. I wasn’t sure if she understood the implications of helping me, but her heart wouldn’t allow her not to.
‘You know that today, when you make the stand, you’ll be on your own?’ The man who’d sired me, Gianni De Luca, asked the question. Slowly, and more calmly than the adrenalin that was coursing around my body should have allowed, I moved my eyes from my grandfather to my father. I deliberately made it obvious that I hardly had to raise my eyes from my seated grandfather to his son who was standing beside him. Then, once I could see I’d made him uncomfortable with the small show of dominance over his height, I nodded at him just the once as I understood that his question held so much more than the words he’d vocalised.
‘I’ve been on my own for a long time. It makes no odds to me; I work better alone.’
‘Enough.’ My grandfather stood up, but my eyes remained fixed on my father and the hatred he seemed to be unable to relinquish.
He’d hated me being brought back into the family fold, mainly because I resembled his father more than he did. Or maybe it was because I was proving myself to be a more likely candidate to take over the family when my grandfather was gone. Or probably because he had sired me and then cast my mother aside, never expecting me to darken his doorstep ever again.
Yet, here I was, the prodigal son. He had to be pig fucking sick at the thought of me, let alone me standing in the De Lucas’ office, and the thought of how much he hated it would have made my soul rejoice, if indeed I had one.
‘You are a De Luca and after today has passed, you will never have to fight alone again.’
‘Thank you, Nonno.’ I looked back at my grandfather and then took my leave of them both, but not before shooting a quick look at my father and raising my eyebrows quickly at him and smiling. I needed him to understand that his eldest child was gaining a stronger foothold in the family with every day that passed. And if I survived today, I wanted him to know that very soon I’d be standing at his father’s right hand. He’d be usurped and would take his place as just another rung in my ladder.
When his face turned red in anger, I knew he understood.
CHAPTER NINE
SALVATORE
The respectful clapping startedas once again Vincenzo Ferraro took his place at the head of the table. Enzo, his son, took his place next to him. I stared straight ahead as I too clapped and made sure my face remained expressionless. It didn’t do to give anyone an insight into how you felt about the decisions made by others. So, like I’d been doing since the age of four, when my mama had been dragged kicking and screaming my name from our two roomed shack never to be seen again, I observed, made note, and made plans for the future.
Just once, I allowed my grandfather to enter my peripheral view. He was loudly exclaiming his support, nodding his head at the result, and smiling with happiness that Vincenzo had been re-elected as Boss. He was even better at disguising his actual thoughts than me. Gianni, my sperm donor, seemed equally as exuberant. But around the large, airless room, I could see several families who were looking less than happy. The loudest cheers in the room came from Alessandro Giordano and his two sons. Uncharacteristically, my shoulders tensed. Then, angry at myself for the small tell I’d given anyone who could read body language, I rolled my neck backwards and heard my vertebrae click back into place.
‘Thank you.’ Vincenzo Ferraro spoke and waved his hand to everyone as if he was the Pope. Not that I gave a fuck about what he was trying to portray, as I’d heard the current Pope was more corrupt than even Ferraro. Vincenzo pressed his palm face down in mid-air to gesticulate that everyone could be seated once again, except for the likes of me standing on the perimeter and mainly in the darkness of the thick medieval walls.
‘And just before we begin yet another even more prosperous year, in which we search out and rid ourselves of those who attempt to work against us, I just need to ask if anyone has anything they need to bring to my attention?’
The men around me began to shuffle their feet expecting to be dismissed shortly, as I took two large steps forward. My movement alone was enough to silence the congregation, but the sound of my boots hitting the stone slabs echoed around the roof.
‘Yes?’ Vincenzo directed the question at me. It was the one day in the whole year I could talk to him directly without having to speak through the ranks above me. Today, whatever I’d done before counted for nothing. The men gathered around me would either take me seriously and I would begin to make a dent in the revenge I’d sworn I’d take, or I knew I’d be leaving the land of my birth before the day was out. Either by my own accord or in a casket.
‘Don Ferraro.’ I offered him his full title and dipped my head towards him. ‘I am Salvatore De Luca, formally Ranieri.’ I made my voice sound strong and clear enough to make sure everyone heard what I had to say. I had no problem effectively admitting I was a bastard by birth… hell, most of the men here had at least one mistress and therefore, by law of averages, most of them had at least one bastard.
‘Yes, yes.’ He dipped his head and moved his hand quickly as he encouraged me on.
‘I have proof that there are some very lucrative business transactions going on without your knowledge.’
Suddenly, the shuffling of feet stopped, and I had every ear in the room trained on what I was going to say next.
‘Go on,’ he offered, as his voice travelled the length of the ancient, rectangular table.
‘When I was four my mama was stolen from me. My grandmother heard gossip at the time that she had been taken and sold elsewhere into slavery, or prostitution.’
‘Gossip is for women,’ Enzo Ferraro pushed into the conversation. His father shot him a look that immediately silenced him.
I stepped further forward, making sure the whole of my body was now illuminated by the dim light the antiquated lighting system offered. I understood that the revelation I was about to make not only needed to be heard but properly seen. ‘My mama was descended from the Ranieri family.’
A ripple of acknowledgement travelled around the room.
‘She disappeared nearly twenty years ago, but I have a witness here today who will swear that the practise of stealing and selling young women, girls and even boys into slavery, is still happening.’
As I finished my speech the room burst into uproar.
‘SILENCE!’ Vincenzo Ferraro abruptly stood up to make sure he drove the single word home.
‘Bring your witness in.’
