Page 31 of Legacy of Deception

Cecilia stepped into the room, her hands in front of her as she approached Maria, coming between her and Dom’s chairs. They were on the opposite side of the table, next to Rocco, so I didn’t catch what Cecilia whispered to Maria. My gut told me it had something to do with the kids, considering they were sound asleep in one of the rooms.

Grinning sardonically, Dario snagged a piece of bread and tore it apart with his hands before dipping it in olive oil. “Fine. Let’s talk about Vegas.”

“We do not eat standing up in this family,” Zia Mary said, coming out of the kitchen with the last of the food. These platters were filled with…with…

Leaning into Marco, I hardly got my mouth open to ask the question before he jumped in and answered it, probably reading my puzzled expression as I stared down the platters. “Breaded eggplant slices.”

Dario held up his hands in mock surrender before appeasing Zia Mary.

“Vegas?” Rocco questioned, snickering as he leaned back, cracking his knuckles on his left hand, which was covered in tattoos. “You sure you don’t want to wait until Mass is around to talk about that?”

I didn’t know much about Rocco and knew even less about Massimo. All I had certainty about was how the same way Lorenzo favored Europe, flitting there on a whim, Massimo did the same with Vegas, and Rocco with a boxing ring.

Cecilia finally sat down, joining us, after clutching rosaries and murmuring something softly to herself. She placed them on the table beside her plate and cleared her throat, reaching her hand over to Santo. “We will fill in everyone else later, but your father is going to Vegas, and we’ve decided we’re making it a family trip.” There was a throaty cadence to her words that always had me stopping to listen closely. This time wasn’t any different. Of particular interest to me was her use of the words we’ve decided. I had a feeling she decided, and Santo had to go along with it for the sake of his marriage.

“You ever play craps?” Marco asked, his eyes transfixed on Santo, like they were caught in some ridiculous game of minds. However, I knew he was directing his words at me. “My father has a special fondness for betting on outcomes, so he can teach you all about the game. Isn’t that right?”

This was about much more than a casino game, so I stayed silent. Not because I didn’t have anything to contribute, but because if this were me, I would have wanted the chance to use my own sword to win the battle.

Elio hacked loudly, his hand coming down as he used his knife to thump the table. “Basta!”4 he roared, a command everyone listened to as silence fell upon us again, this time along with a pause in movement. “I won’t hear any more of this when there are important matters to be discussed. Ones that affect us all.”

“Business can and will be talked about another time,” Cecilia said, her voice stern, like she wasn’t asking, rather expecting everyone to obey. Meanwhile, she hadn’t lifted her head up from the roasted peppers she was delicately cutting.

Elio’s mouth twisted up in distaste. Clearly, he didn’t seem willing to oblige his sister-in-law. Especially considering he shook his head and spat, “This is not business, Cecilia. Your husband knows exactly what I’m talking about.”

Well, wasn’t that nice. Perhaps he would have cared to share with the class, or in this case, the table. Judging by the looks on most everyone’s face, few people were knowledgeable on what he was getting at.

Frankly, I would have preferred to keep my gaze lowered, homing in on my plate and the food I hadn’t yet touched. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from darting my eyes in Santo’s vicinity. His eyes showed nothing more than darkness, something I was sure they shared with his blackened ticker.

Santo waved Elio off. “I will handle matters the way I see fit,” he guaranteed, his expression stoic.

Elio shot a look around the room faster than a bullet flew out of a gun once it was fired before paying his attention to Santo again. “You will not blow me off.” He pushed his chair back from the table, following suit with the way Dario had handled things a few moments ago. “We are talking about irrevocable damage to a legacy we built. A legacy we are continuing to build.”

Marco applauded for no reason at all. Although, with the way his jaw tensed, something told me the movement was oozing with more sarcasm than an open wound oozed pus. “Are you done now?” he questioned.

“Deluca Industries will feel catastrophic ripples from this.”

Apparently not. Apparently, Elio had more on his mind.

“Dad, what is he alluding to?” Vito asked, obviously intrigued since his precious legacy was being threatened. Interestingly, though, everyone else remained quiet.

Siena, for one, had completely checked out, perusing something on her phone.

I suppose I couldn’t have blamed her because it had nothing to do with her. Deluca Industries had always been a family legacy, but it was different for Capri and Siena. It was more so a burden that fell solely on their brothers.

If either one of them had ever expressed a remote interest in the company, that probably would have been one thing, but Capri had nothing but disdain for these specific family affairs. I wasn’t sure exactly where Siena fell on the spectrum of loathing it, but she had never inserted herself to make her opinion known.

“I’m not alluding to anything, my nephew. I’m outright saying it. This girl is going to be our downfall,” Elio said with a mouth full of venom he was ready to shoot right at me if he wasn’t heard.

The more he talked, the less sense he made. Did he forget his brother was the one who had arranged this farce? It didn’t seem plausible I could be their downfall when I was actually helping Santo. He wanted those centers, and he wasn’t getting them without my father getting what he wanted. One hand washed the other.

The pressure to address Elio tightened around me like a corset. I blinked, looking from Elio to Santo and finally Marco, who didn’t notice I turned to him. He couldn’t have with the way his fingers coiled tightly into a fist that grazed my arm lightly. His glare was icy, which was in direct contrast to the fiery rage that practically rolled over his body.

Marco continued to watch Elio, who didn’t seem to be in a rush to elaborate on his baseless accusation. It had to be nothing more than that, or he would have followed his statement up with reasoning. Unless he thought he was too good for that and none of us needed it just because he made his opinion known. If that were the case, he would have been wrong.

As if Marco had been contemplating it and finally decided Elio wasn’t worth his restraint, he gritted his teeth. “Say that again to my face,” he demanded, his voice boisterous and tone gravelly.

Cecilia cleared her throat and stood up, her hand gesturing in the direction of her brother-in-law. “Elio.” Then her hand gestured toward her husband. “Santo. Is this necessary?”