Page 146 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

The temperature in the air dropped another twenty degrees. D’Agostino and Ravazzani glared at me, their eyes promising retribution.

“That’s enough,” Mancini said disapprovingly. “This is what I’m talking about. The three of you need to set aside the past and work together.”

“D’Agostino’s woman has come to Siderno,” Ravazzani said, “and I let my wife travel here to be with her family. I’ve not kept the sisters apart. I think that is the best we can hope for at this point.”

“Cazzata,” Mancini said. “Are you three so shortsighted that you can’t see what you gain by a strong partnership? If you help each other, you become that much more powerful.”

“No offense,” D’Agostino said, “but I don’t see us going into business with the Cosa Nostra.”

“And I need no help from others to remain powerful,” Ravazzani added.

Mancini sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Mamma mia, even at a dying man’s request, you are unwilling to cooperate.”

I thought of Emma and what she’d want from her family after Mancini died. She would want to remain close to her sisters and their families. She wouldn’t like animosity between Sicily, Siderno and Naples.

For Emma, I could do this.

“What do you propose?” I asked Mancini.

“Finally, someone willing to hear reason.” Mancini leaned back in his chair. “We are businessmen, so let’s do business. What do each of you want to settle your debts with one another?”

This was an easy one for me to answer. “The drug trade Ravazzani stole from Palermo.”

“No,” came Ravazzani’s short reply.

“I’m not asking for all of it,” I qualified. “Only a portion of what you stole.”

“And I have said no,” he said. “Why would I strengthen the Cosa Nostra at the expense of my own pockets?”

“Because Buscetta is family.” Mancini let this sink in. “The same reason I am passing my empire on to Vito.”

“Yes, now that you bring this up.” Ravazzani picked his glass up and twisted the crystal in his palms. “I would like to know, why was my son not considered?”

Mancini appeared confused at the question. “Giulio? Because he has Spain.”

“No, I meant Raffaele. Your own grandson.”

I snorted. “Because he’s four.”

“Which means,” D’Agostino said, “you would run it in his stead and you hardly need more power. My brother is the right choice.”

“This is what I am trying to explain,” Mancini said. “We cannot have the houses at odds. It’s bad for business, and it’s bad for my daughters. We need to set the past aside. Tonight.”

“What you are asking is for me to concede,” Ravazzani said with a dismissive flick of his fingers. “I give up everything and receive nothing in return.”

“What do you want?” Mancini asked.

Slowly, Ravazzani cocked his head in D’Agostino’s direction. And waited.

D’Agostino grew perfectly still. “Fuck, no.”

Ravazzani shrugged, a perfect lift of his shoulders in his suit coat. “Then we have nothing else to discuss here.”

“Basta!” Mancini slammed his hand weakly against the armrest of his chair. “I’m your father-in-law, and I am dying. I have made peace with my three daughters. Do not force me to call them in here and see what cowards they have married.”

Cowards?

I ground my back molars together. Mancini had balls, calling the three men in this room cowardly. But he knew he could get away with it because we were more scared of our wives than of him. And Emma would never speak to me again if I disappointed her father.

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