my screen, and it showed a voicemail. I turned my eyes up before my grandfather demanded my attention.
He looked me straight in the eye. “You and I, along with the men in this room, know I have prepared you all of these years to take over.”
It wasn’t the norm to have two men prepared to take one spot, but my grandfather had taught Silvio the same as he had taught me over the years. He had groomed us both for the position he held in the family.
Our family was separated into two factions. Silvio ran one. I ran the other. One governing body separated into two territories.
My grandfather’s intro into this conversation had me thinking. Had he been thinking about retirement? He was ninety years old, and he was growing older by the day.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He stroked his chin thoughtfully. The weight of his stare felt even heavier with whatever he was thinking. “I did not want you to be a part of this life. I wanted you to go to college. To get a degree. To take a different road. I had hoped Silvio would one day take my place. That he would one day sit in this seat.” He knocked on the desk once with his pointer finger. “But as you grew older, there was no denying the blood that ran through your veins. Mine. You are a born leader, Corrado. But there is one thing a leader should learn before he takes this seat. He cannot rule alone.”
He paused and the air in the room stilled. “There is one thing you must do before you take this seat. Before you will be called Don Capitani. Before you secure your vote: take a bride.”
I took out my gun and slid it toward him. “Shoot me.”
None of the men even grinned.
“Put that away!” My grandfather waved his hand. “This is not a joking matter. You must prove to the men that you will settle down. Be responsible enough to rule this family the way I did, but even better.”
Our eyes met and clashed in a silent battle, even though I knew I was going to lose. His mind was made up. He wouldn’t give me his vote, his blessing, unless I did what I said I would never do. Get married.
Uncle Carmine cleared his throat, but my stare still didn’t leave my grandfather’s. “The men call you Scorpio, the man who never allows an enemy to defeat him. You have to learn that you are not immune to rules or being ruled on occasion.”
So the three of them—my grandfather, uncle Carmine, and Tito—had come up with this, after what had happened in Vegas.
I thought of Bugsy, who hadn’t showed his face at this wedding. I grinned. My grandfather and his were usually of the same mind when it came to punishment. His was just more fucking showy about it. He was probably rolling the dice on Bugsy’s future right now, or already had.
My grandfather gave me a slight grin. He knew my thoughts and was confirming them.
“With all due respect,” I said, “I can’t say I feel the punishment fits the crime.” Even though I couldn’t be disrespectful, even raise my voice, I had to try once more.
“Punishment,” Tito said, tasting the word with the thought of vows fresh on his tongue. He had a good marriage and a romantic nature, so it made sense that he wouldn’t understand my hesitation toward being forced into it.
I could’ve said no, but I had two choices: take a bride or lose my grandfather’s vote to Silvio. Even though the men would vote, my grandfather was a great boss, and the men respected him. They wanted to keep the family as is, or make it even greater. His opinion mattered and could sway the election either way.
The men liked my numbers. I brought in more than any man outside of Capone, and at a much younger age. Money and men came to me, which I knew bothered Silvio. He was older and couldn’t bring in half of what I did.
However, this life had many tests, and I’d passed all of them. I always would.
“You will choose for me,” I said to my grandfather.
“I will arrange it.”
Arranged marriages were not uncommon in our culture, and since this was supposed to be about teaching me boundaries, and nothing else, let him decide on my behalf. I’d claim my seat, become the man I was born to be, and the rest would fall into place.
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