Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
“Me at the beck and call of Giorgio looked like what, Nico?” Salvatore asked. “Please, tell me. Because I know how it felt, so I can only imagine what you think it looked like, young man.”
“Power. It looked like power from the outside. You showed up when you wanted; or when he needed you. Never carried a gun, regardless of the reasons. You never shared them, so it let others make up the story they think fits. You spoke; everybody listened. Even him, sometimes. So, yeah, Sal, that looked like power to me.”
Silence answered back.
“And like respect,” Nico put in just for good measure. That shit counted for a lot, too. “And so maybe you think I shouldn’t want that image for myself today, and all the rest of these fucking days I’m gonna walk through in this family, but I don’t agree. I’m not chasing a ghost; I’m following a man. One I should want to be like when it matters the most. I guess being made means you get a lot of say in how I move from here on out, but you don’t get an opinion on that. You already shaped it a long time ago.”
A nod of Salvatore’s head accompanied his back turning to Nico once more.
“Sixty seconds out, boss man,” came a new voice from the doorway.
Jessie, one of Larkin’s men, stood with an AK strapped to his shoulder.
Salvatore barely glanced up to acknowledge the guy. “Thank you. Three on the roof, one in the tree, correct?”
“We’ve got a clear view of the driveway and the table, yes.”
“Good. Two fingers high, Carmine goes.”
Nico sucked in a hard breath, saying nothing. He couldn’t. He didn’t call the shots here.
“Three, and you clear the board before they hit the gate,” Salvatore ordered.
“Got it, boss man.”
A wave of one finger sent the security away.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” Nico asked after a moment.
“The all or nothing is simply the nuke I need should it all go to shit.”
Nico didn’t expect that option to be needed at all. It just made its way to the table because one should plan for the worst possible outcome so then when less terrible things happened, it didn’t feel so fucking bad. He got that.
“It’s not what I mean, Sal.”
“No, you meant Carmine Marino.”
“He’s a good guy; I’ve known him for years. He got me out of hot water a lot of times growing up, too. Not to mention, I know what’s happened in Chicago over the past three weeks. He culled anyone that spoke against you. He was the first after Big Mike to send word that he supported your seat.”
That meant something. Nico couldn’t understand why Salvatore held such a grudge for a man who seemed to be doing everything right.
Salvatore hummed under his breath, picking up that marble to spin again. Like he needed the distraction. “You’re going to learn a lot today, kid, and then we’re never going to talk about it again once we leave this room. Okay?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Take your spot,” Salvatore demanded, his tone brokering no room for argument, “wherever you want it to be. Before someone gets here and I make the choice for you. I didn’t make you an underboss because of your winning attitude and money-making skills, Nico. I did it because I recognize that you have a brilliant mind and you see people for who they are, sometimes, before they even know it about themselves. I need that today, so pick a seat or stand somewhere.”
Nico moved away from the windows just as a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up in front of the house. He preferred to watch the arrivals so he could gauge if someone intended to pull some shit by their body language, but...it didn’t matter.
That’s what the security team did. Nico would read the mood in-room at the table, on his feet. As a proper underboss should.
Standing just a few inches behind Salvatore, directly at his left, Nico folded his arms at his back to clasp his hands. He resisted the urge to tap his foot or even sway a bit to give his body that outlet of movement to rid his nervous energy. He settled for the constant tap of his thumb and pointer finger inside his other hand, hidden so no one could see.
“There’s another reason,” Nico murmured then, “why I don’t want to sit.”
Salvatore peered up, curiosity sparking. “Do tell. I mean, while we still have the time.”
Nico chuckled. “Well, it’ll mean something, won’t it? When I do finally sit, whenever that is, for whatever reason I do it, it’ll really mean something.”
“Yeah. It’ll mean something,” Salvatore echoed, nodding.
The quiet wait turned out to be the hardest part for Nico, but that didn’t come as a surprise. The quiet seemed to permeate every aspect of his life lately. Long nights. Cold bed. Images on repeat in his head that he couldn’t escape. It took five showers before it felt like his hands no longer had his brother’s blood.