Page 51 of Made in Love and Blood

“Okay, where’s the problem? Giorgio?”

The boss scowled. “I’m not saying there is a problem. I worry more about it becoming one.”

“And why would that be?” Salvatore asked right back, not missing a beat.

Silence followed.

Giorgio wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Salvatore wouldn’t play this game. “Where’s Marco, boss?”

Once more, Big Mike seemed to pick up on something if the way his brow furrowed meant anything. He also remained quiet.

“Where is your unofficial underboss on a day you’re sitting down to talk to a capo and the family’s fixer about a potential problem? As you put it,” Salvatore demanded.

Fire met calm when Giorgio lifted his head so the two could lock in all over again. The boss wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions because he never needed to. His opinion was the only one that mattered in the room. People reacted and behaved accordingly for the man’s entire life.

There were consequences to that type of thing, and Marco was a good example.

“What would be the plan for Nico?” Giorgio then asked Big Mike.

Again, the beefy capo shrugged. “Can’t he just freewheel? I think if he can make a million a year in his free time, he can do whatever the fuck he wants on mine.”

“Structure matters, trust me.”

Salvatore rolled his eyes. “You know what structure did for Nico while he’s been living on my estate because his father couldn’t bother to look at his face? The grout has never looked better. Give me a fucking break, Giorgio. Please.”

“You’re pushing it,” the boss warned.

Salvatore cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “By telling the truth? Nico has partied, fucked, and fought his way out of that type of shit. He spent his entire teenaged life doing those three things in rotation, to the detriment of himself repeatedly. I know, I cleaned up after him every time you called for me to do it. He got just bored enough with a little bit of leeway in Miami to do something and look what came out of it.” Salvatore pointed a finger at Big Mike. “Let him freewheel. Tell him to mind the territory.”

Giorgio’s jaw worked back and forth, teeth grinding. “That is the structure, Sal.”

“Perhaps it would benefit us all,” Salvatore replied calmly, “if you would also start structuring around others. That way I won’t have to, Big Mike won’t have to concern himself with why it’s needed in the first place, and Nico can go about his day without a care. Win, win, win. Hmm?”

Giorgio didn’t get to respond. The door opened and a waitress strolled in with her signature red and black uniform, and a platter full of sandwiches and drinks. A perfect distraction.

Salvatore immediately grabbed a steaming coffee, one of three in open to-go cups. “Thank you, I’ll take this for the road. You don’t mind, Mike, do you?”

“Uh...”

Giorgio tried to stare Salvatore down again. “We’re having a late lunch. Sit with us, eat.”

Salvatore shook his head and reached inside his jacket. Pulling out the two rose-gold placards with black embossed writing on the front, he placed them on the table and slid the postcard-sized invitations down the wood top. Frankie’s graduation-slash-eighteenth birthday party and dinner had a set date and time now, and with these two invitations, the first of many would soon hit mailboxes.

“Something else you asked me for,” Salvatore told the boss. “I’m sure you’ve been talking to Christiano about his side of things, which is still handled. If there isn’t anything else, anything at all, Giorgio, I have other priorities today.”

“Like what?” Big Mike asked around a bite of roast beef and sour bread.

“My daughter.”

“Shit, go, man,” the capo replied right away.

Giorgio wasn’t happy about it. Salvatore could see it written all over his face. Somehow, the boss still waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah, go. Good luck to her today.”

That cemented it for Salvatore.