Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
This fucking kid.
Always getting hurt somehow.
It seemed like he had been a fucking genocidal dictator in a past life to come back with the kind of luck he had in this one.
“The fucking barber cut the shit out of me,” he said in a ‘Can you believe this shit?’ tone as he waved at his neck. “Was watching the game when he was shaving my neck, and they were in overtime…”
“Christ,” I said, shaking my head. “The big man in?” I asked.
“Been waiting for you to show up,” Ant confirmed.
“Great,” I said as I started up the steps.
Ant grabbed the knob, turning it, and started to open the door when he landed another blow.
“Your brother’s here too.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered, moving into the foyer.
I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself.
“About time,” Silvano’s voice called from the side, making a little growl escape me.
The only thing worse than having to have this talk with the Boss was to have it in front of my goddamn step-brother. Who was likely enjoying the fuck out of the fact that I was going to get my ass handed to me. That I was suddenly less in favor than he was.
Silvano had come into the Costa family angry. And then grew bitter as fuck that he wasn’t in the family by blood, but marriage, thinking that everyone viewed him as less-than because of it.
To be fair, I was sure my old man added to that inferiority complex. But the rest of the family had welcomed him with open arms.
Then, as he got older and proved to the Family that he had a special set of skills—namely making dead bodies and all forensic evidence disappear—he became a really vital part of the crew.
Objectively, he had a more important role than I did.
The only difference was, I was an earner. I had a whole crew under me, kicking up their dues, busting their asses to make all of us some cash.
Granted, I hadn’t been keeping an eye on those responsibilities for months, figuring that if I was going to be put away, Lorenzo was going to be handing my crew over to someone else who’d gotten Made.
Hell, for all I knew, I had no men left under me.
“The fuck are you doing here?” I asked Silvano.
We didn’t look alike, obviously. Having different parents. But we were both tall, but Silvano was a bit thinner. I had sharp features; his were more rugged. We both had black hair. But where my eyes were black like my old man’s, his were blue like his mom’s. But a stormier shade that seemed to fit his fucking moody-ass personality.
“Can we just… not?” Lorenzo’s tired voice called, making me turn to find him sitting at the head of his dining table, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.
Did he have another baby?
The guys were breeding like fucking bunnies lately. It was hard to keep track.
“Lorenzo,” I said, nodding at him.
“Cosimo,” he said, waving toward the table. “Glad to see you free,” he said.
“For now,” Silvano said under his breath, and we both just pretended not to hear that.
“No one is more surprised than me,” I admitted. “Got lucky somehow.”
“If you’re gonna be stupid, you better fucking be lucky,” Lorenzo said, and there was a hard edge in his voice.
“I had my reasons,” I told him.
“You better have,” he said. “But I don’t have time for this shit today. Renzo is up my ass about this… arrangement shit…”
“Arrangement shit?” I asked.
This was twice hearing Renzo’s name since I’d walked out of the courthouse. Something big was going on. I didn’t usually hear his name for weeks or even months at a time.
“Renzo decided the Lombardis want to get an arrangement like we have with the Espositos.”
“The Espos… you’ve gotta be fucking with me,” I said.
The only arrangement we had with the Espositos was a clusterfuck of a situation that started as a forced marriage of one of our women to their boss. Thank fuck, that eventually became a love match. But this was not the age of fucking forced or arranged marriages.
“From what I understand, isn’t Emilio dating a Lombardi?” I asked.
“For some reason, that doesn’t count. I think because he expects it to be his marriage, that somehow it will be more binding,” Lorenzo explained.
“We’re not going to fucking do it,” I said. Then, at their silence, I barked, “Right?”
“We don’t know what we’re doing right now. What we do know is Renzo is capable of making shit really difficult if we don’t come to some sort of agreement. Which is why, amongst a thousand other fucking things, I don’t have time for your explanation for what you did. What I need is for you to get your shit together. Get your house in order. Get your people kicking up like they used to. I don’t give a fuck if you have to be the bagman your goddamn self. Fix this shit.”