“You’re getting slow, cafone,” Gian taunted, his back now facing the booth that Constantino had come from. “You’re supposed to be the young one here.”
“Give me fifteen minutes,” his friend shot back. “We’ll see how slow I am.”
Then, Constantino was gone, disappearing from the VIP section and off into the swelling crowd of people.
“I see you finally climbed off your grandfather’s dick long enough to show your face around here, Gian,” came a voice from behind him.
Gian stiffened, his teeth grinding. Reason number too-many-to-count why he hated Stephan Zito.
Turning slowly, Gian faced the grinning Capo at the booth, paying no mind to the other people at the table. “Do you want to try that again, Stephan?”
“No, I think I got it right the first time.”
“Do you? Think really hard, now. You’ve got some time.”
“Well—”
“Because I’m pretty fucking sure that to you, his name is boss, and nothing else. And if we’re going to be talking about climbing on dicks, I’ll let you take the lead on that one, since you seem to have quite a grasp on which man likes which dick the best. You’re the only one speaking up about it, anyhow.”
Stephan’s face reddened.
Gian only smiled.
“Stephan, grab me another one of these, would you? They’re delicious.”
Bambi’s high voice broke the staring contest between the two men, making Stephan look to his goomah’s hand, where she held out an empty martini glass. The girl was smart; Gian had to give her that. It was not the first time she had stepped in to divert her man’s attention and kept him from getting his face broken.
Made men didn’t fight. It was against every rule Gian knew. He’d break that one for Stephan, if pushed the wrong way.
“Yeah, sure, babe,” Stephan said, grabbing the glass. “Pretty sure that’s what the fucking servers are for in this place, though.”
Stephan was pushing out of the booth and heading past Gian without a look back.
Gian couldn’t help himself.
“Grab me another drink, too, Stephan,” Gian said at the man’s back.
Stephan’s steps hesitated, and Gian could almost hear the man’s refusal trying to force its way out. The guy wasn’t entirely stupid, and kept walking. Underbosses trumped Capos, after all. Stephan didn’t have to like Gian when the rules came into play.
“You could try not to antagonize him as much,” Bambi said quietly.
Gian turned to face the woman again. “Like he does for me?”
“That’s just Stephan’s ways.”
“And those ways will eventually get him killed.”
Bambi frowned, but wisely chose not to respond. Then, she turned and said something to the woman at her side but a couple of seats away in the booth, drawing Gian’s attention there.
To the redhead.
A woman he thought he hadn’t known from Adam. She had been so quiet at the table, her attention on the few people at a booth across the way from theirs, and not making a spectacle of herself as Stephan had done for him and Bambi. It suddenly made sense then why Constantino had not been treating the girl as a disinterested date.
It was his cousin, or rather, one of them.
At first, Gian thought Lea Rossi. But his mind quickly corrected that, as Lea Rossi’s death—an event that had been widely publicized, due to the nature of the murder—had happened months ago. He only knew of the Rossi twins, as their uncle was an older Capo for the Guzzi famiglia.
Gian had met Lea Rossi on a scarce few occasions when their paths crossed for different events or whatever, but he had never sat down and had an actual conversation with the girl. He had been told by Constantino—the twins’ cousin—that the twins lived in Toronto.