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“My father is dead. I can take a moment to get my head straight and drink my sorrows.”
“And you had it. Now, you need to get yourself together.” He put his hand on my shoulder and pressed his fingers hard enough to make me look straight at him. “No woman is worth drowning at the bottom of a bottle.”
Red. I see fucking red and only some godly force stops me from lunging forward and kicking his teeth out. It was a knee-jerk reaction to anyone mentioning her.
“Get out, Pietro.”
“Look, Grazia is…”
“Keep your fucking mouth shut. If I don’t get to have her in my life, then none of you get to have her name on your lips. Now get the fuck out of my house before I forget we share blood.”
My animal-like snarls have scared him enough to do what he was told. I counted on Pietro to not hold my asshole outbursts against me later. He knew better than most how that woman had her claws deep in my heart and the damage her absence was doing was rough.
My cousin stopped in the doorframe and talked to me over his shoulder.
“I would never speak ill of her, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing you down like this. Go easy on the booze,Don.”
My title was said as a reminder of who I was and the responsibility I was carrying on my shoulders. I was royalty – king over filth, malice, and violence – and Pietro was urging me to wear the damn crown. I wasn’t afraid to lead, I was born to do it, and father watched from the sidelines for a few solid years before he died. Adrian Fiori was in the ground for only days and I’d already made enough deals to keep this family rich for a long time. I had the money, I had the respect, but there was space for two on that throne, and myotherdecided to leave when I’d asked her not to.
I went upstairs and opened the drawer of the nightstand, almost ruining the hinges, and took out the ring that was carefully laid to rest on the velvet cushion. My thumb followed the intricate pattern of the band – olive and lemon branches, like those found on our favorite spot – all the way to the blue diamond surrounded by smaller stones in brilliant white color. On the inside, I had the jeweler brand my name, to remind Grazia that she was mine. This wasn’t a ring for aragazza[35], like the pearl trinket I gifted her when she was sixteen, this was made for amoglie[36]. Every time I looked at it, I felt more pain than when I was fucking shot.
Angered, hurt, and fed up with this day already, I found and opened a bottle of Chivas and gulped it down. It was time to forget.
~~~
I woke up with a headache so bad I could feel it in my teeth. I could handle my booze just fine, but when a gulp turned into two bottles, I got knocked down. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was in the middle of my bedroom floor and I wasn’t alone.
“Chiara.” I gnarled her name. “Did Pietro go crying to you because I didn’t want to play with him today?”
“Pietro called me because he is in Catania to look after a transport and he didn’t hear from you in a day and a half.”
“What are you talking about? He was here this morning.”
“Salvatore, he came to you yesterday.” I looked at her confused and Chiara nodded her head. “You drank yourself into a coma.”
“Fottere[37].”
“That’s right. What do you plan on doing, Salvatore? Do you want to drink your weight in wine one night and never wake up?”
Damn her and her flare for the dramatics.
“Chiara, stop overreacting. Pietro and I spent half of our life tipsy. It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” Her palm connected with my chest and it wasn’t a soft, playful pat. “I haven’t seen you sober in over a week. You wake up with a glass in your hand, go to sleep with a bottle to your lips. It’s getting out of hand.”
“Stop nagging.”
But she continued with no hesitation.
“You don’t get out of the house anymore. Do you have any idea how many people have tried to talk to you since Adrian died? Pietro is drowning taking care of the whole business alone while trying to convince everyone you’re fine. You ignore friends and family and don’t even see what’s going on around you.”
“Why would I care?” I asked more to myself than to Chiara.
“Maybe you would have noticed the bouquet of flowers Giovani Caputo has sent over to Adrian’s grave the other day.”
“Did he now?”
Giovani Caputo, heir to the family. He was my counterpart. Fabiano’s oldest son and one of the best men I know. While our fathers were busy running an empire of crime, Giovani always stood behind and watched from the shadows. He sharpened his skill and mind, turning himself into fineDonmaterial. He wasn’tinthe Mafia, he wasit. Every code, every credo, he took it to heart.
