I shrugged. “I was trying to be humble.”
“Hah.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “You don’t wear humility well, son.”
I grinned. “Don’t I know it.”
“One.” I elbowed the man in the ribs and ducked to my right as I pulled the gun over my shoulder and flipped him over my body, he fell against the ceramic tile just as I slid my foot across the floor taking another one of the men down. Dante surged toward me. With another kick and then a punch to his jaw he was down.
“Four!” Frank called out.
“Kinda busy!” I yelled, as the last man charged me. I used his momentum against him; the minute he hit my body with his, I slammed my hands against his chest then lifted him into the air and threw him to his back on the floor.
“Five.” Frank nodded, approaching on my right. “Impressive. But next time, try harder.”
“Maybe next time you can help,” I snapped.
Frank cracked his knuckles in front of him. “Arthritis is acting up.”
“My ass.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I rolled my eyes as the groans of the men filled the room; I had to give them credit, they were already starting to get to their feet, ready to die for their own damn pride.
“Stop this.” Frank held up his hands. “We came to discuss family matters.”
“The hell you did!” Dante yelled. “You don’t come into our home, attack my family and—”
Frank held up his hand again. “This was merely a… demonstration of what will happen if you refuse to listen. Listen, and we’ll be on our way. It’s as simple as that.”
The old men helped each other to their feet and shared thunderous looks before one limped forward and nodded. “We agree, but first.” He pointed to me. “Who the hell is that? Because we all know he isn’t your grandson.”
Frank smirked and slapped a hand on my back. “Why, I thought after the last few minutes you’d have simply put two and two together, apologies.” His voice lowered. “This is Sergio…” He paused dramatically, the freak. “Abandonato.”
Cursing followed.
And I could have sworn each of them clenched their fists.
Because if there was anything the Alferos of New York hated more than Frank and the rest of the Chicago crew… it was the Abandonatos, the family that owned Chicago, that forced them away from their homes.
The family that took over when they had lacked the ability to do so.
I should duck my head.
Offer my sincerest apologies.
Possibly shake one of their hands and say something nice.
Instead, I responded with, “And if things don’t go well… your future boss. I’d show the respect I’m due. Starting now.”
A sweet face man a proper man, as one shall see in a summer’s day —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
IT HAD BEEN an hour since my uncles had disappeared, I was worried. I was trying not to be paranoid, but they loved parties. The last time we had a party — which was last week, mind you — it had raged until two in the morning. There had been several cases of wine, and somehow, during the party, a goat was brought in while someone offered to slaughter it for more food.
More food.
As if they didn’t already have enough.
I later found out it was owned by one of the party goers who lived in Upstate New York, a gift, he said.
My uncles politely asked for the goat to be dead first.
The man begrudgingly agreed — and after a few glasses of wine, added in a chicken for good measure.
To say our parties were legendary… well, that would be an understatement, but this one, it felt… off. Like everyone was sitting on pins and needles just waiting for something horrible to happen.
Even Nico was in the corner whispering with his parents.
They raised their voices above the music. Nico took one look at me, then stomped over to where I was standing. “We cannot marry.”
Hey, wasn’t that supposed to be my line?
“Um, okay.” I tried to look upset, when really I was elated. But why the sudden change of heart? “Can I ask why?” Not that I wanted him to go back on his proclamation, but he seemed angry for some reason.
“You are bad blood.” He sneered. “We cannot have bad blood in our family.”
“Bad blood,” I repeated. “I’m one hundred percent Italian.”
Again, why was I arguing with him about this? The amount of cologne that man had on was staggering. I took a step back just so I could breathe.
He finally locked eyes with me. “You are bad blood.”
Yeah, you said that freak show.
“Okay then.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Sorry for being… bad?”
“It is all right.” His shoulders sank. “You cannot change the circumstances of your birth.”
For some reason, his insult made me want to pluck out his eyebrows and feed the hair to the chickens.
“Well,” I said in a shaky voice. “I guess that’s that.”
He backed away. “Abandonato Scum,” he muttered under his breath, and then he joined his parents on the other side of the room. I saw Dante speaking to them. He looked — afraid.
Dante never looked afraid.
I motioned him over.
He looked directly at me. Recognition flared in his eyes. Then he turned to the crowd. Mouth open, I stared. He’d just ignored me.