Page 124 of His Dark Vendetta

“So,” Vinnie said. “Aspettiamo.” He leaned back in his chair, and it creaked.

Gio pulled out his phone. I lifted my chin at Marco and dropped my eyes to his cigar case. He slid it across the table. I took one—a Cuban, no less—and lit it.

“I want Luca back in my crew,” Marco said flatly.

My head snapped up.

“No. Assolutamente no.” Vinnie’s voice boomed across the table. “He’s part of my crew. That was the deal. Business at The Dollhouse has never been better.” He pointed at me. “Because of him.”

“Come on, Vinnie. You know the importance of family.”

“I do, which is why I took him in when you disowned him.”

Marco shifted his gaze to me. “People make mistakes,” he said solemnly. “Besides, you’ve got more kids than you know what to do with. Or probably even know about,” he added dryly.

Vinnie folded his arms across his chest and scowled.

“I have one son, and I want him close, especially now that he’s going to be a father. I want him in my crew. Il mio sottocapo.”

My stomach flipped. His son. And his underboss. The DeVita family heir.

“You’re asking a lot,” Vinnie grumbled.

Marco tipped his head in acknowledgement.

“Luca?” Vinnie fixed his scowl on me.

“I have a family to think about now,” I said. “My own family. I have to consider what’s best for them, what’s best for Siobhán.”

“What about The Dollhouse?”

“Dominic can run The Dollhouse. He knows what he’s doing and how I run things. He won’t let any of that slip. He wants to make captain.”

Vinnie’s eyes darkened, and he glared at Marco. “You’re not getting him back without giving me something in return.” It wasn’t an argument, and it wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact. Vinnie pointed at Marco. “I’m taxing you five points for this.”

“Three.”

“And there’ll be a transition period. I want Luca to oversee Dominic for the next month. Longer if needed. And if it doesn’t work out—if he fucks up—you’re paying for it.”

“If he fucks it up, we’ll work something out,” Marco said.

“He won’t fuck up,” I said.

“You got that?” Vinnie said to Gio.

Gio nodded.

Vinnie shot back the rest of his whiskey and pushed out of his chair. “Are we done here? It’s one of my countless kids’ birthdays”—he sneered at Marco, and Marco snorted—“and I need to make an appearance before bedtime.” He buttoned his suit jacket.

“We’re done,” Marco said.

“Text if you hear anything.” Vinnie’s expression subdued to one of mutual understanding and empathy.

“Naturalmente. A presto.”

“A presto,” Vinnie said and left Vesuvio, Gio in tow.

With nothing else to mask the noise, my sensitive hearing caught the din of mid-week revelers that punched through the soundproofing in the floor. Beyond that, Marco and I smoked our cigars in silence, and for the first time in years, the lack of distraction didn’t bother me. We needed a minute to sit with everything in solidarity, in our new normal, untarnished by the past and focused on the future.

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