Page 63 of Fatal Sloth

His eyes narrow, his voice low and lethal. "We can't afford any more damn betrayals. Get to the bottom of this, Sebastiano."

But as we recount the details of what I have in place at the docks, I notice a subtle shift in his demeanor. The hard lines of his face soften slightly, and the furrow between his brows eases a little. There's a glimmer in his eyes, maybe a flicker of approval? I’m not so sure until he speaks again.

"You've done well, Sebastiano," he says, his voice still gruff but approving. "You're showing true leadership in handling this situation. It's clear to me now that you're taking this seriously."

Relief floods through me at his words. I've really tried to step it up but hearing him say that he believes in me means everything.

"And Mia," he continues, his tone softens into more of a whisper. "I knew she was a good choice for you. She brings out the best in you, son. I can see how you’ve changed over the past few months. You’ve really stepped up for the mafioso."

I don't reply to that. I can't deny the effect she has on me and how Mia has managed to worm her way into my head. But I refuse to admit it, especially to him.

In an attempt to deflect the conversation from Mia, I bring up a worry that has been nagging at the back of my mind. Nico's behavior has been off lately, and I can't shake the feeling that he's up to something. "I've ordered additional surveillance on Nico. Ever since he came over a few weeks ago, I have a feeling that he's hiding something."

"We need to keep an eye on him," he says, his brows furrow in concern. "If he's plotting something, we need to be prepared––no surprises."

I nod, and my chest tightens at the thought. Nico may be family, and I can't see him doing something against us. I just can't put my finger on what's been going on with him lately.

"Trust your instincts. If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that gut feelings are rarely wrong."

"I will," I assure him.

"And once all of these shipping issues are handled, Alessio wants us to double his deliveries—shit is really taking off in Philly, and I think we can capitalize on it," I explain, going over what he and I discussed on the phone earlier.

Dad nods in understanding. "It's risky, but if you believe it's worth pursuing, go for it. You've proven yourself capable of taking the lead on this one. Just remember to stay alert and watch your back. The world of the mafioso is unpredictable, even among the Commission. We cannot afford any missteps, especially in unfamiliar territory."

"I understand, Dad," I reply confidently. "But the potential gains outweigh the risks, especially with the demand in Philly. And don't worry, I'll be cautious and keep alert."

"You know, Dad," I start, my voice betraying my exhaustion, "sometimes I wonder if running this family is gonna make me age prematurely."

Dad chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room. "Ha! You think you're feeling the weight of it now. Wait until you're fully in my shoes, son. It's a heavy burden, but one we bear with pride."

With that, we exchange a firm handshake and walk back to the rest of the crowd. I catch sight of Mia across the room, and a wave of relief washes over me. She's been my anchor in this shitstorm. But just as I begin to relax in her presence, my attention is abruptly pulled away by the sound of Karen's irritating voice. Her unnecessary comment about Mia's dress cuts through the air like a sharp blade.

My jaw tightens as I hear Karen's words. "Where's the dress I sent over? You should have worn it instead of this thing you chose,” she remarks, her hand brushing over the fabric of Mia's dress with distaste. "The dress I chose was much better and would have fit you better," she says, her tone dripping with condescension.

Cagna! The fire burning inside me threatens to consume my restraint as I close the distance between us, my steps purposeful and determined as my pulse quickens.

Karen is still oblivious to my approach, her attention solely focused on Mia, who stands like a deer caught in headlights, taking the brunt of Karen's verbal assault.

My fists ball at my sides, but I smirk cockily, deciding I’ll play her little game. Keeping it cool, I stand beside Mia, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into a heated kiss. I pull back and playfully slap her ass.

"She couldn’t wear it," I say with a smirk, turning to face Karen while keeping Mia in my arms. "I just can’t keep my hands off my sexy ass wife," I tell her, giving Mia's ass a little squeeze. "And I ripped it off her body," I add calmly. "Good thing, too, because although my wife looks tempting in anything she wears, it was an ugly fucking dress."

Karen gasps in offense. "T-That was a gift," she tries to muster out.

Gesturing to Mia, I say, "This is a much better fit, and she looks beautiful, don't you agree?" I ask, my tone sharp, emphasizing each word with deliberate precision.

"Uh... I’m... you," she continues to stutter.

"It’s in shreds now, but Marie can send you the remains since you love it so much," I retort, feeling my anger simmering beneath the surface. I'm trying to keep it in check for Mia's sake. That's the only reason Fake Barbie doesn't have a bullet in her Botox forehead right now.

Her hand goes to her chest, “That was an expensive dress," she continues, looking directly at Mia.

"Well, it’s trash now," I respond for Mia, the words practically seething through my clenched teeth. This bitch really has the nerve to gasp. Her dramatic reaction only annoys me more.

Karen’s reaction is immediate. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and her shock is evident—a stark contrast to the facade of confidence she usually wears. Despite her efforts to conceal it, a subtle tremor ripples through her hands, revealing her inner turmoil. It's clear she wasn't expecting anyone to stand up to her today, and the realization leaves her briefly shaken.

"Oh, and Karen, one more thing," I say, advancing toward her until I'm directly in her face, leaving her cornered with nowhere to turn for help. Her eyes dart around, searching for her worthless husband but finding no escape. "Don't ever send my wife clothes again, do I make myself clear?"

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