Page 7 of Marcus

“Don’t know.”

Both his brothers’ gazes turned on him.

“What?” Chris asked.

Yeah, he was just as confused as to why he didn’t know what their father’s meeting with the made men of the Guzzi organization was about.

“You heard me,” Marcus said, “I don’t know what the meeting is about.”

Bene frowned. “Huh.”

That’s about how he felt, too.

Just huh.

And it wasn’t a very good feeling to have. Marcus hated not knowing. Especially in this life.

“But don’t be fucking late,” he said, standing from the chair and readying to leave. “Never be late when the boss calls, yeah?”

Another thing off his ever-growing list. Checking in with his brothers. He had to do that. Always did it. Who else would? Marcus took care of his family, no matter what. It’s just what he did. No excuses.

“You’re just like dad,” Chris called at his back.

Marcus waved a hand over his shoulder.

Was that supposed to be a bad thing?

His father was ignoring him.

Marcus was sure of it.

Although, he didn’t have time to call his father out on the fact because Gian kept moving from man to man at the dinner party—he thought throwing elaborate dinners was the best way to bring all his men together—always out of reach of Marcus, not even giving him the option to ask him for five minutes alone to talk. Not to mention, Marcus also didn’t have the time, considering with all the made men in the family in the same room, everyone seemed to have something to say to him. Or a request to make. A complaint to be let known.

With Marcus being the underboss for the family, he was usually the one left to delegate the men. Whatever they needed or their nonsense, it was left to him to handle it however he deemed fit best for their organization. Usually, he didn’t mind that so much. That was easy shit for him—he handled it no problem.

Tonight, however, it irked him. Because it kept him away from his father.

Who was clearly ignoring him.

“Did you listen to a word I just said?”

Marcus frowned, cursing himself internally for not paying better attention to his mother. A sin in and of itself in the world of Guzzi men considering Cara might as well have been the religion their father preached to his army of sons all their life. It didn’t matter that they went to church every Sunday and prayed in the pews at mass … their mother was their whole world. When she spoke, the rest of them tended to listen.

“Sorry, Ma,” he said, giving her a smile from the side that he hoped charmed away any of her displeasure. “My mind is …”

“On other things?”

“Everywhere, really.”

“Can it be back here with me for a minute?”

He did just that, no questions asked. Placing his drink to the decorative table along the wall, he turned to face his smiling mother to give her every single bit of his attention for the moment. He could go back to dealing with all these men, their issues, and the reason for his father ignoring him later.

His mother needed something. That came first, always. Love, then duty. It was their way.

“What, Ma?”

Cara’s bright eyes showed her amusement as she smoothed back some of the wayward strands of her bright red hair. In her navy dress, surrounded by the wealth of the mansion they stood in, she looked like every inch a queen.