Page 5 of Depths of Hunger

Two

“Congratulazioni, Renzo,” Aldo Giordano says as he claps me on the back, his smile broad but hollow. His thick fingers, adorned with gaudy rings, dig into my shoulder. “Lei è sotto la tua responsabilità adesso.” She’s your responsibility now. He laughs at his own joke, the sound grating and forced, before taking a puff from his cigar. The pungent smoke swirls around his fleshy face, barely masking the stench of cheap cologne. The man’s a buffoon, a relic of a past era.

I immediately feel sorry for my new wife. Damn good thing she was raised in the United States, away from this pompous fool. She is worth ten of him and he sold her to me so fast it would’ve made her head spin. But what he lacked in the balls department, her mother more than made up for. And her demands were strategic and clever. She’s the true power behind the Giordano name now. Aldo is just a figurehead, propped up by his father’s legacy. Eduardo Giordano—now he was what the head ofla famigliashould be: strong, powerful, respected far and wide. No one dared challenge him. He brought the Giordano family to power, only to die of a heart attack while screwing his mistress. Not a bad way to go, all things considered.

“Grazie,” I say, leading Aldo into a side room off the grand hall.

The room is brightly lit, with walls lined in cream-colored fabric,giving it an almost decadent feel. A heavy chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its crystal teardrops reflecting the flickering light. The air is thick with the scent of tobacco. This festive day feels endless, but now the real reason I’m here is about to unfold. I’ve worked long and hard for this moment. I glance around the room at the men gathered. These are the heads of all the northern families, men of power and influence. They’ve come to offer their congratulations—and their allegiance. It’s about damn time.

“Renzo,” my father calls out. His voice carries across the room, commanding attention. The men fall silent and take their seats around a large, oval table in the center. I move to stand beside him. My father, tall and imposing with a regal bearing that speaks to his centuries of power, gives me a rare smile. “You’ve done me proud, son,” he says, but the real message comes telepathically.As you have for centuries. Congratulations. You prove more every day that you’ll succeed in ruling the Venetian seat of power when I’m gone. You were born to be a vampire king. Never forget that.

Thank you, Father.His confidence in me means a lot, but that’s as emotional as we ever get. Our relationship is built on respect, not sentiment. He talks about me taking over one day, but he’s over eight hundred years old and doesn’t look a day over fifty-five. If there’s a vampire out there that’s died of old age, I’ve never heard of it. I won’t be taking over the Venetian seat of power as a vampire king anytime soon. But that doesn’t matter. I’m taking over something else, and this marriage solidifies it.

My father steps behind me on the right, while my brothers, Nico and Luca, flank me on the left. Nico, the eldest after me, has a steely gaze that’s as sharp as his mind. Luca, the youngest, has an easy charm that hides a truly lethal nature. They all support me, but I’m the head now. The chatter in the room dies, and all eyes turn toward me as I stand at the head of the table.

Aldo Giordano, seated immediately to my left, rises to his feet. He’s shorter than I am, with a round belly that strains against his suit jacket. His once-dark hair is thinning, and his eyes are dull, lacking the fire of his father. “Once again, I offer my congratulations, Renzo.I’m sure you’ll make my daughter very happy. That’s important to a father, eh? Be sure you take good care of her.” His tone is meant to be menacing, but we both know it’s an empty threat. He doesn’t have the guts or the power anymore. He’s just going through the motions, trying to save face. I nod gravely, playing along.

Aldo turns to address the rest of the table. “Tonight, we are here to pledge our allegiance to the new head ofla famigliahere in northern Italia. Renzo has worked hard to bring stability and honor to the family, as well as money.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching. “A lot of money.” His expression sobers as he continues. “I am no longer a young man. I want to retire, enjoy my remaining years, and let you younger men work to make me money.”

There are a few chuckles around the table. The men know they must still appease Aldo, but they also know I’m the man in charge now. I suppress my impatience and listen to the old fool drone on. I would like nothing more than to snap his neck and drain him of the rich red gold that flows through his veins, but my new wife would not like that very much, not that I am going to make her needs and wants a priority but I don’t have time for a pouty wife and it would grow tiresome quickly. I need Mia to work with me for the foreseeable future. After that? We’ll see what happens. Human wives don’t tend to last long in the vampire world.

“With his marriage to my Mia, Renzo is now the heir to the Giordanofamiglia. He has shown me that he knows how to run our business, grow our wealth, and keep us safe.” Aldo pauses and lets his gaze sweep the room. “These are changing times, and I am worried about the future. Renzo has the strength and leadership required to guide our family through these changes and expand the Giordano empire. It is an honor to welcome him as the new head of our family.”

I wait a beat. There’s one more thing Aldo needs to say. We negotiated it. If he goes back on it now, I’ll make him regret it very quickly.

Months ago, I told him I was taking over as head of the family. I gave him a choice: I could do it by killing him or by marrying his daughter. He could have fought back, tried to kill me, or even tried to discredit me. But he knew then what he knows now—I’m too strong. Ihave the support of too many of the other families, and I have the loyalty of his men. He wanted to fight, but his wife is a pragmatist. She agreed to the marriage. So, he had to choose between life or pride.Shechose for them and she chose life. I think he would have chosen pride if she’d let him. Now, he has to make her choice known, and it’s killing him.

“I have decided, as part of my retirement, that I will hand over not only my daughter but my name as well. I would like my golden years to be spent out of the spotlight.La Famigliawill be known as the ValdiciFamigliafrom now on. He raised his glass and the men around the table did the same. “La Valdici Famiglia,”Aldo says and gulps his drink.

The others follow suit.

“Please show your allegiance to the new head of the ValdiciFamiglia,” Aldo says, his voice trembling slightly. He then removes the ring from his finger, a symbol of power passed down through generations, and hands it to me. It’s a heavy, gold band with the Giordano crest engraved on it. I will get it remade into the Valdici family crest once things have settled down. I nod to Aldo. He nods to me, then turns and leaves the room, his shoulders slumped.

I let him go, even though tradition dictates he should have touched my hand to his forehead and bowed. There’s no point in humiliating him further. The rest of the men in the room raise their glasses to me, and we all take a drink.

Then, they form a line, each waiting to swear allegiance.

Carmine Colucci is the first. He’s a heavy-set man in his late forties, with a sharp jawline and calculating eyes that miss nothing. “Congratulations, Renzo,” he says, bending to tap his forehead to the ring. When he straightens, he adds in a low voice, “We need to talk. The cartel is getting nervous.”

“Tonight is my wedding,” I reply coolly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He starts to protest, but Nico steps forward, guiding him toward the door. Nico and Luca often serve as my consiglieres, but I also have a human advisor who’s more in touch with the intricacies ofLa Famiglia.My brothers help me with all things vampire.

Giuseppe Baldini and Antonio Marchesi, known as Big Tony, come next. They’ve been close allies for years, running our business in Milano. Giuseppe, a tall lean man with a graying beard and a perpetually nervous expression, winces slightly as he touches the ring to his forehead. Big Tony, a mountain of a man with a bald head and a penchant for violence, barely grazes the ring.

You’re going to have problems with those two,Nico observes, his thoughts brushing against mine.

Seems likely,I reply. That’s why I’ve had Angelo collecting information on their business and personal lives for months. They both have weaknesses I’ll exploit as necessary.

Roberto Strozzi is next. His nickname, Bobby Sticks, comes from his lanky build and penchant for using a cane to beat those who cross him.

“Bobby Sticks,” I greet him. He nods, touching the ring to his forehead, but belligerence sours his expression. I say, “I want to talk to you about some of the things going on in Firenze.”

“Sure,” is all he says before walking away. He resents anyone talking to him about anything on his turf. He just wants to be left alone, but that’s not going to happen. I’ve been hearing rumors that he’s dropping the ball, and I can’t let that slide.

Paolo Lombardi comes next. He’s a well-groomed man in his mid-thirties, wearing a tailored suit that screams wealth. He touches the ring to his forehead but doesn’t release my hand. “I look forward to having a good working relationship with you, Renzo. We have much in common.”

He’s right. We do have much in common. He thinks we’re roughly the same age. He’s in his mid-thirties, and I’m over four hundred years old, though I look like I’m in my mid-thirties. We both clawed our way to the top, and I respect him for it—much more than I respect a lot of the men in this room.

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