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“What drink would you like, Miss Bianchi?” she asks in a hushed voice, scared of disturbing my brothers’ meeting.

“A mojito,” I request. “I’ll take it in the pool near the bar. Thank you.”

Calra hurries off, and I swim over to where the bar and the pool are close together. There’s a step here, and I sit on it, resting with my arms out of the water and on top of the lip of the pool. I relax, breathing in slowly. I close my eyes at the same time I hear the clink of glass against tile right by me. I smile.

“Thanks, Carla,” I say.

She doesn’t say anything back.

I pretend to rest while I listen keenly to what the boys are talking about. I have been listening to family business since I understood words, and my father was still Don of this family. I’ve always listened. I know all the rules, the lingo, the tricks. I know what Andrea means when he wants someone taken care of, not that that needs much context.

My father also spoke loosely around me, stupidly thinking a child wouldn’t listen and absorb what was happening around her.

I know all their secrets. They don’t know how dangerous it would be if someone kidnapped me. Not that I would say anything. It would take a lot to drag out my family’s business from me.

“So, Romano Esposito finally kicked the bucket, eh?” Andrea says. “That’s too bad considering his only heir died in that bike accident last year.”

I smile.

Romano was a well-known casino businessman, using his casinos as a front for other family businesses. His son, Romano Junior, was meant to inherit everything, but he was too into racing bikes around Miami and got taken out by a van driver who was texting while driving.

Lorenzo retells the story of the bike accident to everyone, then says, “Without his heir there’s no one to inherit the business. No one in the family has the balls to fill his shoes.”

Andrea takes a drag of his cigar and a sip of his whiskey, pulling a face. “Other families will think they can make a move.”

“The Russos?” Darren asks.

“No, that’s not their thing. They like their money too much to part with it. And I doubt old man Russo has the know-how to run a casino.” Lorenzo narrows his eyes, and I wonder what he’s speculating. Then he says, “No, someone like Matteo Ricci.”

Mickey spits on the ground at the mention of the name. “That tool wouldn’t be able to run a casino if Romano rose from the grave and gave him the playbook.”

“Don’t underestimate him.” Andrea’s face is hard. “Matteo Ricci could make a play with the casinos, and with that kind of power they would move far above our level. We’d be little fries compared to them after that. They’d hold all the power, all the cards.”

I try not to frown. I know Matteo Ricci. Well, at least I’ve seen him in the news, and I’ve heard his and his father’s names mentioned more often than not in my home. Our fathers had been enemies, and now my brother is his enemy.

I open my eyes and take my cocktail, sipping it slowly. I don’t look in their direction, as I don’t want them to know I’m listening.

“So what do we do?” Darren asks, his gruff voice laced with disapproval and hatred.

Andrea chuckles. “Calm yourself, Darren. I doubt we’d ever get close enough to Ricci actually to do anything. We need to get the casinos from under me. Before he has a chance.”

Lorenzo whistles. “That’s a lot of green, Andrea.”

“I know, but it would be an investment for our future, this family’s future.” Andrea motions around him. “We didn’t get all this by standing by while others made decisions.”

A glance in their direction shows them all nodding in agreement. I wonder if it’s because they agree or if it’s because Andrea is Don and they wouldn’t go against him. I never knew with my father either.

“There’s a power vacuum,” Andrea continues before pausing to drain his glass. “And we want it to play out in our favor. Lorenzo, get in touch with whoever is pretending to oversee the Esposito family. Let’s see what we can arrange before Matteo catches up.”

Lorenzo nods. “I will, but Andrea, do we have that kind of green?”

“We’ll have to liquidate some things, move some other things around, but we need to do it. The cost of losing it to the Ricci family is greater than what we’d have to pay out.” Andrea passes his glass to Carla, who moves quickly to fill it.

I sip my mojito again, contemplating what exactly it would be that Andrea is giving up doing this. We could lose everything. I rather like my cushy life.

I watch Carla give Andrea his whiskey, then signal to her with my empty glass that I want another mojito. Carla fetches my empty glass and goes to the bar while I lie back, resting my head against the edge of the pool.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been born into a crime family. All I want to concentrate on is my baking and soon my cooking. I want to be an influencer and open my own café.