179

It’s seven-thirty in the morning when I get to Chelsea’s room. I was expecting to find the key on the inside because I know she spent the night with Daniel—but to my surprise, it’s on the outside and it’s unlocked.

That’s showing a lot of trust.

Not only because she believed we wouldn’t kill her during the night, but because she assumed we’d respect their privacy and not walk in on them.

Well…either she trusts us or she just doesn’t give much of a fuck anymore.

Last night was a revelation for the lot of us. My father’s duplicity hadnotbeenwell received by Antonio and myself.

I wouldn’t say that Mike and Daniel were like our brothers…we didn’t doeverythingtogether…but they were like cousins. And—Cousins are close.They were family.

When they were killed and my father told us that we weren’t going to retaliate, he drummed it into us over and over again that—An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.

I remember thinking to myself all those years ago,‘What kind of boss quotes Ghandi?’Turns out, he was just too ashamed to come clean and tell us he’d given the‘okay’to have not onlyhis best friend clipped, but the guy’s entire family as well.You have to have ice-water in your veins to do shit like that.

Was it for the best?

Who’s to say?

You can never tell about these things—What ‘might’have happened?

All I know is that it was wrong.

Perhaps in time, Mr. Lombardo would have come around. Perhaps in time, old man Cassaduchi would have backed down…I mean…it’s unlikely, but we can never really know.

Would Don Cassaduchireallyhave gone to war with us? Or was Don Lombardo right…that they wouldn’t dare?

What’s really been sticking in my craw—and Antonio’s—is that my father didn’t make his decision by consulting the other capos…which is exactly what heshouldhave done. That’s the wayour thingworks.

If you’re going to leave an opening against the boss, it’s got to be agroupdecision.

Antonio and I have worked our way up the ladder, maybe a little faster since our father became the boss…but we earned our stripes fair and square.

Since they opened the books for us and we gotmade, we’ve been our father’s consiglieres…his closest confidants in all the world…when it comes to business of course.

I always wondered why he forced out the older guys. Last night when we talked, he told us this was why—The guilt.He told us he couldn’t bear to look them in the eyes any longer and lie to them about the arrangement he’d made with the Cassian.

What’s done is done, sure, but when we found out that Chelsea was alive he should’ve told us the truth right away…not only after Chelsea confronted him.

That made us all look like fools.

And I don’t like looking like a fool.

What’s worse is…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust him again. He’s my father, my flesh and blood, he raised me…but he’s been lying to us for sixteen years!For what? Was any of this even worth it?

Did he step over the grave of his best friend so he could become the boss?

Not according to him.

He said he did it for us…to protect us and give us a future.

He said the Cassian were an irresistible force…and that Don Lombardo was an immovable object—He said something had to give.

I guess I’ll never know the real truth.

Even Joshua de Soto looked into my eyes for years and played along with the story.

My father sided with the enemy. They’ve been lying for him.

For sixteen years, I had to kiss that murderer on both cheeks and swallow my pride even though I’d never stopped hating de Soto…and he wasn’t even the one who made the call…it was myfather.

Last night when I took Chelsea toBuono Fortuna, it felt like my greatest triumph…and then I was made to look like a fool. The capos in the Bernardo family all look like chumps.

If this ever gets out, we’ll never be respected again.

War is coming.

Soon…

I open the door and let myself into Chelsea’s room. I don’t bother knocking. She should already be up.

Daniel is long gone. Chelsea is naked, writhing, tangled up in the sheets and mumbling…

I sit down next to her and shake her tummy to wake her. She throws a right hand and I catch it before it hits my face. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” she blinks rapidly and shakes off the cobwebs—a light sheen of sweat glistens on her, “didn’t anyone tell you?”

“What?”

“This is how Ialwayswake up,” she forces a smile.

“Well, now that you’re up,” I push her back down on the bed and peel the sheets back, revealing the rest of her supple body and the perfect tits that God got just right.

I slide two fingers into her sticky cunt and massage her right breast. The moan she gives me is exquisite.

I keep fingering her and use my thumb on her clit.

“I just woke up,” she groans, “what are you doing?”

“Trying to put you in a better mood,” I pull away, turn her over and slap her ass!

“Ow!” She looks up at me with a naughty smile, “Consider my mood adjusted.”

“Good,” I stand, “we’re having breakfast out in the garden in twenty minutes. My father wants to talk to everyone.”

She frowns at me, “What does he want to confess to now? That he killed Jeffrey Epstein?”

I smile, “I don’t think he even knows who that is. Ask him about the grassy knoll and Kennedy, you might get something there.”

She smiles back at me, sits up, pulls me back down and kisses me—She’s irresistible.She goes to work with her tongue and feels up my cock through my jeans.

I break away, put her over my knee and whack her twice on the ass. “Breakfast, eighteen minutes.”

She hops up again, “If you were trying to get me to stop, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“Go on,” I wink, “we’ll play later.”

She playfully rolls her eyes and gets moving.

She’s halfway to the bathroom when I ask, “Do you want to meet us down there or—”

“Wait for me,” she calls back with authority and closes the door.

Yup…she’s a queen alright.

I go to living room, sit on the couch and watch the morning news. There’s nothing of interest, it’s all the usual—another school shooting.

Sometimes it makes me wonder how bad we really are when there are things like this happening in the world.

One time, the guy who mows the lawns in our old neighborhood was having a problem with his kid acting out and becoming all ‘goth’ and shit like that—bad grades, smoking pot.

He was hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I’m not sayingI’mthe right kind of crowd, but his dad called me over to speak to the kid as a favor.

I scared the bejesus out of him. The kid’s been flying right ever since. Now, show me a cop who’d go through the effort!

We take care of our own.

But, even as I say this, bile rises in my throat, knowing what my father did.

Chelsea comes out of the bathroom and she couldn’t give a fuck that’s she’s stark naked. Then again, why should she? I’ve seen everything…and it’s a hell of a view.

She even gives me a smile before she pads over to the closet and starts choosing her outfit. “So, what’s this breakfast about?”

“I’m not sure, we’re all going to find out at the same time I suppose.”

“Hmm.” After she slips on some underwear, she turns to me and holds some beige Capri pants and a white blouse against herself, giving me the—what do you think—look.

I give her the—yeah, that’s great—nod.

After she dresses, she comes to me, hops up, gives me a peck on the lips and holds my hand.It feels more intimate than sex.It’s a gesture of trust…in me.

We go down and outside to the garden, hand in hand. It’s a beautiful day. There’s a crisp breeze, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping.

Too beautiful of a day for bad news.

The smell of freshly cut grass mingles with the sweet scent of jasmine.

A large, round table, loaded with breakfast foods, has been set up in the open on the lawn and everyone is already seated and waiting for us.

Conversation dies when they spot us, then they suspiciously avert their eyes as we approach—Strange.

There are two spaces left, side by side, it’s for us. Daniel ends up on my left, Antonio on Chelsea’s right.

When Chelsea sits, she rubs Antonio’s thigh. He gives her a smile and pours her some coffee without being asked.

Chelsea smiles and winks at Daniel. He smiles back looking doe-eyed—I guess she taught him a thing or two last night.

Then the smile on her face drops away when she locks eyes with my father…who has been watching all the exchanges at the table so far—I know, becauseI’vebeen watchinghim.

He’s not smiling, but it’s not anger on his face, not frustration either…no…he’s wearing sadness.

I ignore it. I haven’t forgiven him yet.

I don’t know if I can.

I take Chelsea’s plate and hand it to Daniel. He puts on some fruit, cheese and half a croissant. He passes it back and I add some scrambled eggs, grilled mushrooms and a couple rashers of bacon. Antonio takes the plate adds half a blueberry muffin and some jam.

It’s less about feeding Chelsea than showing my father whose side we’re on—not that he doesn’t already know—but I felt like we should rub it in. When I make a play, my brothers always back me up.

The rest of us fill our plates in silence, munching along the way, the only sounds being those of cutlery meeting crockery.

I have a big appetite because of my workout regimen so I always have a big breakfast.

We enjoy our food and Chelsea exchanges smiles with us every so often when something takes her fancy—like a blueberry—but I don’t take my eyes off my father.

He’s watching everything.

It’s a crying shame, because he now knows without a doubt that loyalties have shifted. Well…not so muchshifted,it’s just that he’s lost mine. I can’t speak for Antonio and Daniel, but it sure seems like it for them too.

Finally, my father starts to speak in a calm, measured tone, “Don Cassaduchi reached out to me.” When Chelsea makes eye contact with him, he goes on, “He wants to know if you’re going to be a problem.”

Chelsea’s fork lands with a clatter on her plate, “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

A brief moment passes before my father smirks and nods. “I told him as much. I also told him that I looked the other way once and de Soto made a mistake.”

Chelsea stares my father down like no one else has ever had the balls to do. Most people would turn away, even me and Antonio.

“I told him that I looked the other way once, but that I would not do it again.”

“Why’d you tell him that?” Chelsea’s words practically drip with condescension.

“This family was founded more than a hundred years ago by your ancestors who came on the boats from Sicily. Four generations of Lombardos have led us. Your brother, Daniel, was to be the fifth after your father stepped down.”

Chelsea doesn’t respond. She keeps the stare going.

“I swore an oath to protect this family. I had my reasons for what I did sixteen years ago. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, so I won’t ask for it. Don Cassaduchi has been informed that you’ll not die by my hand and…God willing…by no one else’s either.”

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction,” Antonio says.

“And to that end,” my father gives Antonio a look for him to be quiet, “I see that you have the allegiance of my sons,” he glances at each of us, and when he does, we nod at the truth of his words, one by one. He looks back to Chelsea, “They are good soldiers, good captains and good men. They will serve you well. If there is still some loyalty for me left in them, then they will do this out of respect to their father.”

I’m starting to wonder what he’s talking about.

There’s moment of silence. My father takes a deep breath, holds it, then exhales, “You will have your war, Chelsea…last of the Lombardos…and you will have your revenge. I hereby cede leadership of this family to you.”

What the fuck?

“You are now—Donna Chelsea Lombardo.”