Page 12 of Tainted Princess
“I’m afraid you are only partly correct, Silvio. It’s true that I am married, but I also have a son.”
Silvio barked out a laugh. “I’d hardly call your desert bastard a son, Argenti.”
Giuseppe scowled at Silvio, but didn’t respond, turning instead to Don Carlo. “It’s true that my Enzo is not born of my marriage, but that’s no fault of his. He is a good earner, running his clubs and turning a decent profit. This could be beneficial for all of us if handled correctly.”
I watched as my grandfather narrowed his eyes, considering. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him, and I held my breath as I awaited his verdict.
Finally, Don Carlo spoke. “Is he Made?” Silvio scowled at his father but said nothing.
“If you open the books, he will make his bones, I have no doubt about that.” Giuseppe was rather nonchalant about his son committing a murder, but I guess that was just the name of the game.
After all, I’d done it.
“So, that’s it?” Silvio just couldn’t help himself. “We promote your bastard to aSoldato,and—”
“ACapo,” Giuseppe cut in. My eyes were bouncing between the two of them as they bantered back and forth, my life literally in their hands.
“What?” Silvio ground out.
“Make Enzo aCapo, Don Carlo.” Giuseppe continued to ignore Silvio, addressing his Don and showing no sign he’d even heard my uncle’s protest. “After all, there is a space available now that Silvio has been promoted to Underboss.”
What?
That was news to me. It hurt to know that in my father’s absence, I was completely out of the loop as far as the workings of the Organization went. I was flying blind these days, and I didn’t like it.
Silvio as Underboss was bad. He was reckless and prideful and would fuck up all the progress my father had been making.
But there was fuck all I could do about it.
“You can’t just waltz in here and expect some nobody to be promoted ahead of all these other qualified and dedicated men!” Silvio was spitting mad. Literally. There were disgusting drops of spit on his chin as he raged.
“Yes, I can. That’s why it’s called negotiating, Silvio.” Giuseppe finally addressed Silvio, his words a calm wind compared to my uncle’s raging storm of anger.
“Don Carlo,” Giuseppe went on, “make Enzo aCapo.He’ll even stay in Las Vegas if it makes you feel better. Keep him away from the Family business, so to speak, but let him run a racket in the desert. He’ll send up what he earns, at a fair rate, and you get the added bonus of marrying your soiled granddaughter to aCapoof the Outfit.
“It’s a win-win for all of us.”
Not for me, but no one seemed to give a fuck about that.
They thought they could just sit around and trade me like a goddamned baseball card? I don’t think so.
“Don Carlo, if I may,” I began, rising from my chair. But Don Carlo had other plans.
“No, you may not,” he roared, and all the murmurers around the room halted. Gone was the kind man who had kept mints in his pocket just so that he could slip them to me whenever I visited him. He sat before me now as the Don of the De Marco Family, prepared to deliver me to my fate with the power of a God. “This is as much out of my hands, Francesca, as it is yours. There is no other way. You either marry the Argenti boy or you forfeit your life. That is the only choice you have, and I won’t hear another word about it, from you or anyone.” He punctuated his statement by slamming his palm down on the table, and several of the men jumped.
My breathing was shallow and rapid, and I felt light-headed, but I refused to show weakness. In this room, I needed to be unbreakable.
I grit my teeth and looked him in the eye as I nodded my acceptance of his judgment.
Seeing my submission, Don Carlo turned to Giuseppe and asked, “How soon can he get here?”
“I can have him here by the end of the week.”
“Good. Make it happen.” Turning back to me, he said, “Francesca, prepare yourself. This Saturday, you’re getting married.”
