Page 69 of The Deal

My brother is standing behind him, waiting his turn, so we briefly hug and pat each other on the back.

Once I’ve greeted them both, I move to shake the hands of the other men in the room, forcing out a smile when I get to Edoardo. I’ve always tried hard to hide my disdain for this man. The fact that my father has never mentioned it, tells me I’ve done a good job of covering it up.

“Sit,” my father says, motioning to the chair where my brother had been sitting. I catch the flash of dejection on Dante’s face, the subtle shift in his expression as he’s pushed aside now that I’ve arrived.

My father still thinks I’ll step in and take over the family business once he’s gone, but I don’t want that position, and deep down, he knows it. I’m happy with my life just the way it is. My brother, on the other hand, thrives in this world, whereas I loathe it.

“You sit, Dante,” I say, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. “I feel like I’ve been sitting down all morning; I need to stretch my legs.”

I keep my focus on my brother, but I can feel my father’s gaze searing into the side of my head. He’s never taken kindly to being challenged and knows exactly what I’m doing.

I’ve often wondered if his insistence on me as his successor is because I’m his firstborn son, or if it’s simply that he cannot stand anyone daring to defy his wishes. The truth is, we both know Dante is the better man for the position, if for no other reason than that he actually wants it.

My father clears his throat and retakes his seat. “Would you like something to drink, son, or something to eat? I can have Lina cook something for you.”

Just the mere mention of her name makes my stomach recoil. “I’m good,” I reply.

“How long are you home for?”

“I was planning on heading back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeats, frowning.

“I have commitments back home.”

“This is, and always will be, your home,” he grumbles. “We need you here to help sort out this mess.”

“You mean the mess you created?”

He flicks his hand, dismissing what I said. “You’re staying … at least until the end of the week. I won’t hear another word about it.”

“I can’t,” I reply, casually shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers. I’m not going to let him railroad me into getting involved. I want no part of it.

“It’s thatbastardo, isn’t it? You’re still seeing him despite me insisting you cut him out of your life.”

That comment instantly raises my hackles. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to my son in that way.”

This has him clenching his fist and forcefully banging it down on the desk. “He’s not your son,” he bellows.

My nostrils flare as I take a deep breath through my nose. He starts the same old shit every time I come here, hence why I rarely do.

“Can we just agree to disagree? I didn’t come here to fight. Giovanni never asked to be born. That poor kid is innocent in all of this,” I reply through gritted teeth.

My father pinches the bridge of his nose and mumbles something unintelligible in Italian under his breath before saying, “I can’t believe he bears my name.”

“You fucking made me name him after you,” I yell, losing my cool.

“That was before I realised you’d married atroia.”

“You made me marry her, so get off your high fucking horse, old man.”

My father shoots me a look so cold and lethal it could kill, and I watch two of his men shrink back in their seats,but Edoardo just grins like a smug motherfucker, which only angers me further.

Papa can argue this matter with me all he wants, but he won’t win. It’s the truth, and deep down, he knows it. He just hates being called out on his bullshit.

“Enough,” Dante barks, standing and holding his two hands out in front of him. “We have more important things to deal with right now.”

Right.Another one of my father’s fuckups.

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