Page 43 of Disgrace

“Do you have a fucking problem with Siena Calabrese?” John asked Nathan.

The older man stood a little straighter in his bathrobe and cotton sleep pants. Nathan was the type that figured his age gave him some kind of edge, or even a heavier respect, than those younger than him in the family. Bullshit. The least he could have done was thrown on a fucking shirt before leaving his room, but here they were.

“Yes, I damn well do,” Nathan replied.

“And what is it?”

“Her last name, for starters.”

John scoffed. “So she’s good to feed you information, but the second someone knows it’s her, she’s not good enough, huh?”

“I didn’t know it was her.”

“Fact remains the same, Nathan. If you’re going to run off at the mouth about Siena, I suggest you do so where I cannot hear, or where she is ready and capable of defending herself. Otherwise, I’m going to make you apologize to her for acting like a goddamn prick, and I can promise that you will not like the way I fucking do it. Got it?”

“It is a little concerning that she’s here,” another man put in.

“She was here for me,” John snapped over his shoulder. “She didn’t leave my room all day yesterday, or last night. She was kept company by several people while she waited for me. And if you have a fucking problem with who I involve myself with, then you can bring that issue to me.”

“John makes a valid point,” Giovanni said, stepping in between the men. “And right now, the important topic is not who is involved with who, but what we need to do next to lock this family down, and protect anyone who needs protection.”

“And what, ignore the fact he’s sleeping with one of the goddamn snakes?” Nathan asked.

Jesus.

John had done so well.

He hadn’t let his anger or frustration overwhelm him for a long damn while. His new med regime really helped with the sometimes heavy swings of emotions that he experienced. At the very least, it gave him some time to think shit over before he outright reacted to something. But sometimes, shit just could not be helped.

This was one of those times.

Rage swelled through John like a fucking tsunami coming to destroy hallowed ground. Rage was often his favorite emotion as it was the easiest to understand, and to feel. It certainly wasn’t the easiest to control, but he wasn’t concerned about that at the moment. He had other things to handle.

He swung around, despite seeing the warning flash in his uncle’s eyes, and took aim at the idiot who smirked at him.

Good.

Wiping that off would be greatly satisfying.

John reared back, and let his fist crash into the face of the Capo. He didn’t hold back for a second, and he put every bit of his weight behind the punch. He swore Nathan’s nose broke under the impact as the man’s bones flattened with a sickening crunch damn near instantly. That sound was quite satisfying, really.

Blood poured.

Someone swore.

Someone else moved closer.

“John,” he heard his uncle warn.

John didn’t need anybody to step in. He knew exactly what he was doing, he was perfectly in control, and he had this shit handled.

He had himself handled.

John pulled back, stood straight once more, and fixed his fucking jacket. Another time—another day in his life or another person he disliked a little bit more than Nathan—and he might have beat the guy to a bloody pulp because he couldn’t fucking control himself, and it would have felt divine.

Today was not that day.

John only needed the one hit to make his fucking point clear. He looked over Nathan as the man covered his broken, bleeding nose with one hand, and nodded when the Capo glanced up at him. Bleeding and holding onto his face, Nathan muttered a garbled apology when John cocked his brow at the man.