Page 97 of The Deadly Candies

Matteo’s jaw tightened. “That kid ain’thisgrandson. He’smine.”

José rolled his eyes. “For this to work, the baby’smine, Matteo. He’ll be half-Puerto Rican, which means my familywillclaim him. They’ll christen him, raise him in our ways. You get that, right? Until you can put a ring on Debbie’s finger and drag her intoyourworld as your wife? She’smine.”

Matteo’s fist clenched, knuckles whitening. José didn’t flinch. For a heartbeat, the air between them crackled—then Matteo exhaled sharply. “Not here. We’ll figure it out later. Right now, I got somethin’ to show you.”

José eyed him. “What?”

Matteo grinned. “Debbie’s Palace.”

José turned, his breath catching as he took in the three-story brownstone wedged between Mama Stewart’s diner and a kosher deli. Matteo strode to the door, key in hand. After a beat, José followed.

Inside, the space was raw but alive with potential. Matteo flicked a switch, and dim light spilled across the empty floor. “Lights just got turned on today,” he said, voice echoing off the bare walls. “Used to be a diner. Not anymore.”

José shook his head. “You kidding me? I couldneverafford this. My folks’ll never buy it.”

“You will,” Matteo countered. “Big win at the tables. Enough to convince ’em you secured it. The rest? Smooth sailing.”

“Me?Gambling?” José barked a laugh. “I don’t evenbet, Matteo. They’ll know somethin’s up.”

“Christ—” Matteo dragged a hand through his hair. “Why you bustin’ my balls? I’m givin’ you a place. Big enough for you and yourboyfriend. Big enough for me and Debbie.Protected.Away from all the bullshit!”

José blinked. Slowly, his gaze swept the space—the hollow shell of the diner below, the boarded-up rooms above—and for the first time, hesawit. A home. A future.

He sighed. “It’s still dangerous. If your family finds out about Debbie and me? We’re dead.”

Matteo looked away, jaw working. “Got a plan for that too. Meeting DeMarco after this.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Matteo extended his hand. “I know it’s weird. I know we gotta be careful. But I’m doin’ what a fathershould. Protecting my kid. My kid’s mother. Can we make this work?”

José stared at the offered hand, then back at the empty space—no longer just a building, but a lifeline. After a beat, he clasped Matteo’s grip. “We can make it work.”

“Grazie.” The word rushed out like a prayer. Before José could react, Matteo yanked him into a rough, brotherly hug. José stiffened—then, after a heartbeat, hugged back.

For the first time, the future didn’t just seem possible.

It seemedclose.

29

Brooklyn, New York – 1949

The black 1947 Cadillac idled outside a nondescript brownstone in Carroll Gardens, its engine a low growl in the quiet night. The neighborhood was Sicilian—oldSicilian—where the cobblestone streets whispered of men who had crossed the ocean with vendettas stitched into their suit linings. The air smelled of garlic, simmering tomatoes, and the salt-tang of the East River.

Inside the car, Matteo Ricci tightened his grip on the wheel, his knuckles pale under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Beside him, his younger brother Carmelo exhaled sharply, rolling a silver dollar across his knuckles—a nervous habit.

"You ready for this?" Matteo muttered; his voice low his gaze focused more on his plan than what was beyond the car.

Carmelo smirked, but his dark eyes were sharp, calculating. "We walk in there like we own the place. Like we’remeantto be there. We are Don Ricci’s sons. We can’t let him intimidate us. No matter what he says."

Matteo nodded. The plan was simple: play the eager sons, hungry to learn the family business. Their father, Don Cosimo Ricci, thought they were out chasing skirts or wasting time in pool halls. He didn’t know they had spent the last four days listening at closed doors, tracing the threads of power thatreallycontrolled their world. Mama Stewart had prepared Matteo. He understood the large task ahead of them.

And all those threads led tohim.

DeMarco Salvatore.

The Sicilianconsigliere. The man who had taught their father the old ways—therealways—when Cosimo first joined the Five Families. The man who, if Mama Stewart was right, was theneckthat turned the head.

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