I stayed quiet, pretending like I was considering his words, both of us knowing I’d predicted how this conversation would go hours ago.
“So maybe we make a display, remind them of the consequences should they step out of line again,” I said, like the route I had already decided on had just occurred to me.
“No more bloodshed, Nico,” he said.
I shrugged. “I understand. But some…theatrics might be in order,” I said.
Don Carlo waved me away. “Fine, fine, but don’t escalate this,” he said.
“Very well.”
“You need anything else from me?” he asked.
“No. I’ll keep you in the know,” I said.
The boss slumped into his chair. “Fine. Now I must rest,” he said.
I nodded, and then I left.
My cousin was seething, but fortunately he kept his mouth shut. Besides, Enzo didn’t need to say anything.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
Don Carlo was exhausted, even though he had done nothing.
If we let this stand, the violence would escalate, and before the boss decided to act, we’d be at a terrible disadvantage.
I knew all that, just as I had anticipated the boss’s response.
Which was exactly why as I drove away from Don Carlo’s cavernous mansion, the men were already working.
The Genovese would find their friends.
They’d be in pieces, of course, scattered throughout the Genovese territory, a clear message that their bullshit wouldn’t be tolerated.
Now all I had to do was hope I could keep my boss from getting his entire fucking family killed—and keep my mind off that fucking girl.
SIX
Hope
“Not a fucking sound,”the strange man standing in the doorway of Nico’s bedroom said.
His voice was brimming with menace, and there had been a time I would have reacted in fear.
Not now, though.
Even still, I couldn’t deny I was nervous. But I somehow managed to keep my outward composure, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hide in terror or scream in anger.
Another glance at the man told me hiding was probably the best choice.
He wasn’t as large as Nico and not nearly as intimidating, but he was bulky and broad, and he looked like he could do serious damage.
Worse, he didn’t look like he would mind doing so.
He was dressed nicely. His slacks were clearly expensive, and the button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows was still crisp and unwrinkled.
But it didn’t matter how fancy his clothes were.