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She smiles weakly as she dabs a tear that slips down her cheek. Reaching for the hand I have on the stick shift, she squeezes and says, “Can you take me home?”
“Of course.” I drive her to the house and park in the long driveway. “I can stay if you’d like.”
“You should go. Renzo needs the support of family. I’ll be fine.”
I leave her, feeling as if I’m abandoning her at a time when I should be her support. But I do as she says and am glad for it.
When I reach the yacht, Renzo is standing on the bow, giving what he surely believes is a riveting speech. The buttons of his shirt are undone down to his waist, exposing his puffed-out chest and the gold chains around his neck.
“My brother was a good leader. The best Don, surpassing even our father in success.”
Narrowing my gaze, I move closer to the crowd, listening with halfhearted interest. The best Don? Better than Francesco? No one in their right mind would ever agree with those statements. There was no one better than Francesco.
But Renzo doesn’t see the smirks in front of him, or if he does, he ignores them.
“All I can hope for is to follow in his footsteps,” he continues. “With your support and blessing, I will do that. Who is with me!?” He throws his arm up in a William Wallace Braveheart sort of way that leaves everyone looking at each other.
But a few of the men do answer his call to follow him should he take Joaquin’s place, and that’s all he needs as encouragement.
After raising his glass to the crowd, he tips it back and downs the contents of whatever the hell is in it.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s a flash of annoyance in them. He jumps off the bow and makes a beeline for me.
“Noah, glad you could make it.” He pushes past me. “Come with me, I need to speak with you.”
I follow him down to the lower deck. “I need to talk to you too.”
“How about I go first?” Renzo walks to the wet bar and refills his glass. “I’m not sure if you heard, but I’m going to claim my place as the head of the Gianni family. I need to know I have your support. Your oath of loyalty if anyone were to challenge. And the promise that you won’t challenge me yourself.”
Ah, there it is. His concern that I’ll challenge him.
I study him. The weak angles of his face, the way he tries to stand to his full height when he’s around me, but the slight inward curve of his shoulders gives away his intimidation.
“Why would I challenge the position when I’m not a Gianni by blood?” I ask him.
He takes a sip of his drink, swallows it loudly, and sets it down but doesn’t let go of it. His finger taps rapidly against the glass as he seems to consider what to say. “We both know the men respect you. I want your oath of loyalty. In return, you will be given the rank of consigliere.”
Consigliere. Just like my father. The carrot is dangled in front of me with an insincere smile.
“You’d listen to my advice?” I ask, my tone level.
With a snicker, he says, “The men would listen. That’s all that matters.”
“The Giannis will always have my loyalty. I don’t need to sit by your side to prove it.”
“I want you to swear it tome!” He throws the glass across the room. It crashes against the wall, shards exploding everywhere.
I don’t flinch. Fucking idiot. Same hot temper as his brother.
Moving next to him, I take a glass from the cupboard and fill it with whiskey. “The Giannis will always have my loyalty,” I repeat, raising my drink in the same way he did when he was on the bow. “Now that that’s all cleared up, there’s something else we need to discuss.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, he smirks. “What?”
“Before Tony Sinacore died, he called me. He’d been trying to get in touch with Joaquin, but—”
“That shit about the Dons being targeted again? My brother told me about it. It’s all fuckin’ bullshit.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Joaquindidend up dead. If you succeed in taking over the Giannis, this could be a huge problem for you.”
