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Only one seat has swapped owners since the capos gathered here three years ago. Nico's seat is now positioned where Father once sat as Don.
I find that my earlier intuition was spot-on. My brother is sitting at the head of the table, a glass of amber liquid in front of him. Except that his laptop is closed. And he’s not alone.
Sophie is in Nico’s lap, dressed in one of his shirts, and her face is buried in his neck. I can’t see their lower halves, but from the way my brother’s head is thrown back and the dazed, ecstatic look on his face, I know his wife is doing something incredibly erotic to him.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I snort, leaning against the doorframe, not in the least bit sorry.
They jerk apart. Sophie looks more than a little guilty, but Nico only smirks and pulls her back in for another kiss.
“Guys, look, just say the word. I can come back in two minutes,” I tease.
“Shit timing, fratellino,” Nico growls, his eyes narrowing at me.
“It’s okay, Dante,” Sophie pipes. “Nico just needed another cuddle, that’s all. It’s been a rough night.”
Normally, I’d have a sarcastic comeback to that, had I not just now rolled out of Addy’s bed myself. I guess I, too, needed a bit of a cuddle, if that’s what we’re calling it now. “For us all, sis,” I reply.
Sophie slips off Nico’s lap and comes to me, her steps graceful despite being six months pregnant.
“Ciao bella,” I greet her, and just to annoy Nico, I envelop her in a tight bear hug that never fails to make Nico scowl. I’m sure if he had his way, he’d be the only man on earth who could look at or touch his wife.
She whispers in my ear before leaving, “I have to meet this woman driving you to public madness, Dante.”
I snort out a laugh. The photos have gone viral then. “You'll see Addy soon enough,” I whisper back.
Nico would have been briefed by the PR team the moment the photos broke. And Nico tells his wife everything, either because she’s a therapist or because Nico just can’t help himself. And with the way his gaze follows Sophie as she leaves the room, I’ll bet it’s the latter.
As soon as Sophie is gone, Nico’s expression becomes grave, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to the grief and sleepless night we’ve all endured. He leans back in his leather chair, the rich material creaking slightly under his weight.
I clear the lump in my throat, my gaze dropping to the amber liquid swirling in the glass he holds. “How are you holding up?”
“Peachy,” Nico murmurs with a sardonic smile, his free hand rubbing at his temple. “Just got in an hour ago.” He motions to the decanter on the desk between us. “Want one?”
I shake my head, waving off the offer. There’s too much brewing today, and I need to keep a clear head and sharp reflexes. I might need them to survive the next few hours. “I’m good.”
Nico’s fingers tap against the glass as he glances at the huge Roman numeral clock hanging between the tall, book-lined shelves. “How long before the Capos get here?”
I know he wants to know how much time we have to speak privately. I drop into my chair, the one just next to his. “About two hours. Where do you want to start?”
“De Luca.” Nico throws back his drink then slams the glass down. He pins me with a look, his blue eyes fierce. “What in the actual fuck are you doing, Dante? Getting handsy with Adele. In public. You are supposed to be proposing to Alina.”
“What’s the point of proposing?” I retort. “It’s not like the girl was going to say no. It was an arranged marriage, for fuck’s sake. Although, as of right now, it’s all gone down the drain.”
“Yes, a proposal is redundant. Still, it would have been a nice thing to do, considering the woman loves you,” Nico argues, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk.
I shake my head, scoffing at his tone. I swear Nico has gone soft. “Alina does not love me.”
“She picked you over me,” Nico says, his tone exasperated, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck do you call that?”
I chuckle, the sound harsh in the stillness of the room. “Good taste?”
“Dumbass.” Nico smiles wryly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. “But seriously, Alina wants to be your wife, Dante. I could think of worse things than that.”
“No, Nico. Bianca wants to be my mother-in-law. There’s a difference.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table, my gaze intense.
Nico’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his fingers stilling on the desk. “Switching grooms was Bianca’s idea?”
I nod, my jaw clenching. “Are you surprised, though?”
