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But I can see it now. I can see myself as a father. The family I want to build is not as traditional as Tony’s but it would be powerful.
With Christina. And Enzo. What a powerhouse of a family we could become with me as the leader, Christina the law, and Enzo the reason.
The Venitti name deserves that. I deserve that.
The conversation happening drags my attention back to the present.
“Diaz figures he can take over the South American stronghold on trading with a little firepower and cash.”
“Maybe.”
“He’s been underestimated before; I don’t think we should do it again.”
“That’s why we’re building relationships with the Cinelosa Cartel.”
Everyone nods their heads in agreement, and it’s as good as official. Conversation breaks down as the meeting ends, and we head outside to christen the first shipment.
We all watch as the men pack the weapons into the hollowed-out drums of farm machinery. Tony brings a cigarette to his lips, the smoke visible against the darkening sky.
“To success,” my father holds up his tumbler of liquor. “And to Nico.”
“To Nico,” everyone chants in unison.
I raise my glass as well. It will be a success. I’ll make sure of it.
My success will not be because we made a flimsy sales agreement with the Cinelosa, but because I finally understand my destiny.
My future.
Christina will be my wife. That will be how I protect our future and build my legacy.
“And what are we going to do about the Riccis?” Giovanni asks.
I frown at him. I don’t like that he’s asking this question.
“Nothing,” my father says, shooting me a look. “We’ll play it off like we know nothing. Send someone on behalf of the family to offer our condolences and leave it at that.”
There’s no challenge from Giovanni.
I smile smugly, knowing that no matter the backlash, we’ll handle it. Somehow. Where the preparation lacks, the confidence will fill in the rest.
15
Christina
The only sound filling the space of the dining room comes from the rain pattering against the half open windows. I glance around the ornate dining room. Some overpriced decorators clearly designed the space. The lush velvet fabrics and carefully curated artwork is a tell-tale sign of poorly spent wealth.
I push the food around my plate. At this point, I’m unsure if I have the appetite to finish it, even if it’s delicious. I glance over at my mom. Her posture mirrors my own, seemingly reflecting my own feelings of uncertainty and loneliness. I don’t know how she’s going to do this.
I guess on the upside, at least I’m not spending dinner alone.
I don’t want to admit it, but without the guys, I’m starting to feel kind of depressed. I don’t know where they went or when they’ll be back. It’s creating this constant sense of dread and I hate it.
I don’t know if I want to sign up for a lifetime of waiting to see if the men I care about return home at the end of the night.
My chest aches, like it so often does now. Maybe I should see a doctor?
My mom looks just as sad.
