Page 3 of Captivated

Cory, likely.

His younger brother—by only a year—was dying a little because Joe was in New York for this mysterious business, and Cory had to stay at home. He was not in the mood to listen to his brother whine or bitch about it, so he just opted to not pick up the phone at all. It would be nicer to listen to Cory rant about that, anyway.

“You got it, sweetheart,” Damian said. “Love you, bye.”

Not a damn second after Damian hung up the phone with his wife—Lily, Joe’s sweet-natured, good-hearted mother—he snapped at his son, “Joe, stop that goddamn fidgeting.”

It was almost like his father had been watching him the whole time through his phone call, and knew the closer they were getting to the Marcello mansion, the worse his fidgeting had become. Joe’s hands stilled in his lap instantly.

Joe scowled at his father. “I’m nervous, all right.”

“Be nervous, but stop the jittery bullshit.”

“Easy for you to say, Dad.”

Damian smirked, but he didn’t hide it fast enough for Joe. He still saw the grin before his father turned his head, and stared out at the cars they passed. It kind of struck him then at how content and comfortable his father seemed in a state that was not in any way theirs—at least when it came to the business side of their life. Going into the territory of another family could sometimes be tricky. Like navigating alligator infested waters. A person might think they were stepping on a rock, and before they knew it, they were in the mouth of an alligator.

Yeah, just like that.

Maybe it wasn’t the same for his father, though. He often made trips to visit other organized crime families to do deals, or make peace. Despite how intimidating his father could be at first glance, Damian was charming when he made the effort to be. And doing good business and keeping peace was one of his many jobs as the underboss for Joe’s uncle, Tommas.

Really … he worried about fucking this up for his father. It was the first time Damian brought Joe along for a meeting of this caliber, and it kind of put him on edge. He was always the one in the shadows, never the one stepping up to take center stage.

He didn’t like that.

He wasn’t the type.

“Dad?” Joe asked.

“Yeah?”

“Cory would have been better for this, not me.”

There, he said it.

Let his father make of that what he wanted.

Damian sighed, and looked at Joe. For a short while, the two simply stared at each other in silence. He took in the almost-perpetual smirk his father wore, the strong jawline, and sky-blue eyes, and felt like he was staring into a reflection of his oncoming older years. Even their hair was the same shade of dark brown, although Damian toted a bit of salt color behind his ears, and Joe liked to keep his cut in a high-fade style.

Still, his father stayed silent. More often than not, that was Damian’s way of getting one of his sons to speak. It worked far better on Cory than it did Joe.

Joe liked silence, after all.

And right now, he had nothing to say. He said what he said.

“I know Cory would have had more fun maybe,” Damian finally said.

“Exactly.”

That was also evident by the phone in Joe’s pocket that had finally stopped ringing for two goddamn minutes.

“But you’re in a position where you could use a bit of education on the rules of other families,” his father added, shrugging. “And as someone once told me, Joe, comfort zones are reserved for weak men who are afraid to try something new. I want you to succeed—you chose this life, son. Don’t shy away because you prefer to hide away.”

Joe frowned. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I know.”

Smug asshole.