Page 39 of Vicious Little Games

“You don't have to say anything right now,” he replies. “Just think about it and let me discuss it with your mother. She's going to be fucking furious that I asked you.”

“I'm not a child anymore. And I know she's always going to want to protect me, but shouldn't this be my decision?”

“It should be, yes.”

“Then can I talk to her with you when she gets back?”

“Are you sure? It may get ugly.”

Grinning, I tell him, “I can handle her.”

“Then we can try and convince her together. It's been almost a year since I first brought the idea up. Last summer, actually, before we took out Petrov.”

“Damn,” I say since that's another surprise. “You barely knew me then. We had only met, what, once? And then there was the bombing...”

“Let's not go there,” he interrupts. “I'll just say that I had a good feeling about you as a leader. You seem easy enough to get along with, but I think you’ve got some teeth that will come out if necessary.”

“Ah, thanks, I guess.”

“You're your mother's son. She's a tough woman who has been through hell. I'm sure you get it from her,” he replies. “And I would never say this in front of her, but you also have your grandfather's blood in you. Some of the Russian holdovers who have been trying to cause problems might be happy about the idea of Yuri Petrov's grandson taking over for me some day.”

“I take it they don’t like you very much after you killed him?”

“They can't fucking stand me. I'm surprised they haven't tried to kill me yet.”

“No kidding.”

“I allowed the ones who couldn't stomach taking orders from me to pack up and leave town. That was about half of the Russians. The ones that stayed are no doubt still unhappy. With your help, there might be something there worth salvaging. They employ a lot of people in their bars and restaurants. Not to mention I would hate to lose the benefits of running illegal funds through all of those legit businesses.”

“Okay, so I don’t know shit about the illegal side of business,” I tell him honestly.

Grinning, he says, “Trust me. It’s nothing you can’t learn.”

“Well, I cleaned out the pharmacy. Bought every kind of test and brand they had,” my mom says when she barges into Dante's office as if it's no big deal to disturb him when the door is closed. Then she sees me sitting there on the other side of his desk and her brows hit her light blonde hairline. "Cole? What are you doing in here? Did you hear the fuss about Sophie? I would beat that Irish man's ass if I could for hurting her.”

“Cole's actually in here to discuss something with me,” Dante says. “I've asked him if he's interested in being my heir.”

“You did what now?” Mom exclaims, dropping the bag in her hand to the floor.

“Now, calm down, butterfly.” Dante gets up from his chair to walk around the desk toward her. “I know you were opposed to him being a part of this world...”

“I did everything under the sun to keep him away from my father for twenty damn years! You knew how I felt about this.”

“Yes, I knew how you felt about it last year when I first mentioned it, but not how Cole felt about it,” Dante replies. “He's a grown ass man. He deserves to make his own decisions now.”

My mom scoffs as if her husband has just waged war. “Never. It's never going to happen.”

Now I get to my feet to add in my two cents. “I want this, Mom. It's not a big deal.”

“Not a big...” She scrubs her palms over her face and says, “The fact that you don't think it's a big deal just goes to show how much you know about the mafia. Nothing. You know absolutely nothing!”

“I can learn, though.”

“No. You aren't going to learn anything except what they teach you at school in New York.”

“Butterfly,” Dante starts, but she cuts him a look that has him closing his mouth.

“How could you? How could talk to him about this behind my back? While I was gone to find pregnancy tests for your heartbroken daughter!”

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