Page 19 of Revenge & Ruin

Martino salutes me mockingly. “Need a lift to the Guild meeting?”

“Please. I have a few calls to make.”

By the time Martino pulls up to the compound, Marco Chiavari is already waiting at the entrance for me.

I don’t break my stride as I greet the older man. “I didn’t see you at the wedding.”

“My daughter seemed to have everything under control,” Marco replies.

“Do you have any plans for her?” I ask.

Marco is silent for a few beats as we pass by the garage and the unsubtle stares of a few low-level goons hanging out there.

“Mia is her own person,” Marco finally announces. “She works for me on a freelance basis, nothing more. As far as I’m aware, she’s comfortable bartending at the Candelabraand keeping an eye on things.”

“She would be a strong asset to the Guild’s inner circle.”

Marco suddenly grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. “You will not force her into this life.”

“She already has one foot in it.”

“One foot in the damn grave, boy,” Marco counters venomously. “Rocco had the good sense to stay out of it. I thought better of you.”

I regard the older man for a moment. He's the oldest surviving member of the Guild and perhaps the one that is most able to command the respect of his peers.

To demand something from him would be an insult, not only to the man, but to the legacy of the Guild itself. And we both know it.

Only, if I am to distinguish myself from my predecessor, I must rise to the challenge presented.

“I surely think that’s her own decision to make, is it not?”

Marco’s grip tightens. “You do not want to make an enemy of me, Vitale. Not when half the people in that room are looking for any excuse to overthrow you.”

His eyes dart toward the meeting room door. Behind it sits a dozen or so of the Guild’s inner circle. They are masters of their respective crafts and territories, many have been in the game from the moment they drew breath and will likely remain so until their last.

“Then I suppose you have an incentive, then,” I say quietly. “To ensure they do not.”

The implication immediately makes the vein in Marco’s temple twitch dangerously.

The truth is, I need Marco in my pocket. Without his line of funding, one that he rigorously and ruthlessly maintains on behalf of the Guild, the entire operation is compromised.

Rocco was always fond of the man, but he’s not going to be around forever. He needs to choose a successor. And if it’s not Mia, then I need to know now so I can begin to make preparations.

We give each other a long look, both unsure of how far we can push the other.

I save us both the headache and walk away.

The noise that hits me when I enter the meeting room is all groans and complaints.

More than half the seats at the table are filled with men and women braced in some kind of recovery position. Those whoaren’t are throwing me unpleasant looks as I stride through the room and take my seat at the head of the table.

Martino quietly follows behind, standing just behind my left shoulder as if nothing has changed at all.

This seems to have an immediate effect on the group. Those capable of doing so sit up a little taller, shooting wary glances at those around them.

The only person who seems entirely at ease with the situation is Dante, who has one arm flung over the back of his chair as he picks at his nails.

“Thank you for meeting here on such short notice,” I begin, and the room immediately falls silent.

---