Page 84 of Marcus

Because at the end of the day regardless of Marcus’s lack of attention at times, he was still the fucking man sitting in the boss’s seat. He knew how to behave like it, too. All the boss cared about was his bottom line because otherwise, what was the point of this thing of theirs?

Money.

Loyalty.

It’s what kept Cosa Nostra going.

“Continue with your payments,” Marcus said, lifting his coffee cup from the table to ready for a sip as he waved his other hand at the room. “One man at a time—as normal.”

The tribute continued without the fanfare from before, and for that blessing, Marcus was grateful. Of course, even as one Capo at a time sent his most trusted man up, if not himself, to pay his dues to the boss, Marcus could feel his brother beside him shifting in his seat with the occasional clearing of his throat.

“What is it, Chris?” Marcus asked, picking up the stack of cash an enforcer for one of his Quebec Capos. “Just spit it out; stop overthinking whatever you want to say, brother.”

Chris sighed, his gaze drifting to the enforcer who was currently waiting as the boss slipped the stack of bills into a money counter. At the same time, he kept his gaze averted from Christopher and Marcus sitting at the table, as though he didn’t hear their conversation at all. Which was entirely impossible considering he was right there in front of them.

“Maybe now is not the best time,” Chris replied.

“No better time, honestly.”

If they couldn’t trust their people to speak in front of them, then who could they trust?

It was also a good way to weed out the problems.

Loose lips, and all that.

“Fine,” Chris said, “you wanted it, so don’t blame me.”

The machine in front of Marcus beeped with a number on the screen that made him quite pleased. He picked the cash out of the slot and put it back in to count a second time—at its core, this business was still all about the nickels and dimes, so double counting was a must.

“Just talk,” Marcus muttered.

“Your distraction wouldn’t have anything to do with Cella coming this weekend, would it?”

Yep.

Chris had to go there.

“And?” Marcus asked.

His brother shrugged. “I get it—I’m more concerned about your plans for the weekend.”

“Why is that?”

The machine beeped again. Same number as before.

“Do you really think it’s smart to be out in the middle of nowhere, with very little protection, at the eastern Ontario farm when you know the bikers are rallying? At least two other chapters have come into town, and—”

“They have no idea where I’ll be,” Marcus said, plucking the cash out of the machine. He nodded at the enforcer, saying, “You may return to your Capo.”

Christopher called for the next man to pay his boss.

Marcus gave his brother a look from the side. “The chances of the bikers attacking this weekend are less than nil—the chances of them attacking me is … even less. Don’t be another person riding my ass. I have enough.”

His brother frowned. “I worry.”

“Don’t.”

Marcus arrived at his father’s mansion a day later more frustrated than he should have been. He might be the acting boss of the family, but his father still had all the say behind the scenes. His mood wouldn’t be welcomed when he was intended to deliver the tribute he collected to his boss—who never behaved as his father when business was in play—but he couldn’t shake the irritation thickening his blood.