Page 78 of Massimo

Swallowing my rage, I school my expression as we step into the room.

The front part is where the dining and lounge area is, and the private meeting room is at the back. Like the rest of the house, it's opulent with the black-and-white marble floor, and a Murano glass chandelier hanging over the long dining room table.

ZioRiccardo rises from the table with a smile. "Nipote. Good to see you."

To all of us Santoros, family is everything. He embraces me, clapping me on the back before turning to Marco, who's come in behind Renzo and me. They hug and catch up quickly.

Seeing my uncles together makes my father's death sting all over again.

"Welcome!" a booming voice calls from the head of the table as Vincenzo Pisani stands. He's a large man, his belly expanding from his love of rich food, the wine from his vineyards, and because he leaves the physical part of his ruling to his underlings.

"Come, Massimo and Marco. Join us." He sweeps his arm to the table where the rest of the Dons and their seconds-in-command sit. Then comes over to me, clapping my shoulder. "It's a pleasure to see you."

He's the ever-perfect host, but I'm not fooled. The man is a shark.

"Renzo, you finally pulled your ass out of bed to join us." Achille Albano, who rules in Croatia, eyes him with a smirk.

Renzo adjusts the lapels of his suit as he sits. "Well, after I got in early this morning from getting my cock wet all night, I did my morning training. Not all of us rely on beauty sleep, our fists for pleasure, or our guards for everything in life."

Achille's smug look sours and Vincenzo barks a laugh. "He's got you there, Achille."

My gaze moves around the table, taking in the Dons. Gastone Ferri, who has territory in Buenos Aires, and Camillo Altera from Texas. Geno Pagnatto controls a good portion of Morocco and is constantly on the verge of full-out war with the Spanish mafia. Enrico Di Rossi rules mostof Australia. My uncle Riccardo's area of rule is a large portion of the Calabria region other than Catanzaro.

Vincenzo, Camillo, Achille, and Gastone voted against me killing Mancini. Since I needed to abstain from the vote, it was technically tied at four-four; however, Vincenzo's vote holds more weight, so it carried. Visions of what I’d like to do to my peers who voted against me bring a rush of anger again, and it takes great effort to stay calm and in control.

I move to the table and pull out a chair between my uncles. Renzo sits beside his second-in-command, who is the only woman at the table, Chiara Romano.

Gastone drags his eyes away from Chiara, who's leveling him with a murderous look while she twirls a butter knife over her knuckles. He eyes me with open suspicion. "Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we?" He's a small man who always feels the need to speak loudly. "The Mancini Princess—you need to return her to her father, Massimo."

Not afuckingchance.

I suspected suspicion, but I guess we're doing this the not-so-covert way.

ZioMarco stiffens and my hand twitches, which he sees and knows not to step in. This is my fight.

I ease back in my chair. "And you have proof I have the missing princess?"

Gastone's jaw clenches so hard I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. "It doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist to figure out."

"I had Mancini in my hands." I lift them to reinforce the symbolic gesture. "I could've snapped his neck. I could've handed him over to Vito.Icould have ripped him to small pieces." I flex my fingers, making my knuckles pop. "And yet, I let him go, because I respected the 'Ndrangheta's vote for him to live…for now."

"Can you say you'd do the same?" Enrico asks Gastone and the others. "Massimo showed restraint that none of us likely would've, and that weighs in his favor."

"I didn't realize this was a tribunal hearing for me to prove my innocence," I say without a shred of my thoughts or emotions.

Vincenzo flashes a warning look around the table. "It isn't."

Camillo leans forward to look at me from down the table. "Your travel itinerary is suspicious."

I sigh heavily. "And my family is still under an active threat, yet here I am, Camillo. If the fact I'm not making this a vacation doesn't sit well with you, well, you can get fucked up the ass with that strap-on dildo you're so fond of."

Camillo shoots to his feet, his chair clattering as it falls back. Loud noise breaks out in the room with half of them shouting and the other half laughing with fucking glee. Renzo nearly chokes on the cornetto pastry he just bit into.

I stand and tower over Camillo, letting my mask fall to show him just how depraved I can be. He stops abruptly, taking a step back.

"Vito is rubbing off on you, Massimo,"ZioRiccardo murmurs.

Vincenzo rises and braces his hands on the table. "Camillo. Sit your ass down."

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