“I do long to see you and your family again.” I hold his face between the palms of my hands as I kiss his thin lips before he gets in his car with Maurizio.
“I know. I just wish it was over.”
I fear he might doubt my commitment, but I can’t become weak for love. I can love, as much as the timing sucks, and I can’t give him up.
Visions of Carla entered my dreams last night when I thought he was proposing to her. I’m sure that relationship is over but at the same time, trust is new to me. Trust is good until it’s not and even when I speak the words, I’m hoping I’ll stick to them.
I know I’m damaged. I never wanted my brothers' lives to come to this end. I hoped they would change, or that it wasn’t so bad. That they weren’t truly bad people, but they were, and they got the only ending that was fitting for their crimes.
Not to say I’m an angel for taking over the family business. I’m not one to take vengeance unless it’s earned a response from me. And I realize that my vendetta against the Michelis was really to blame them for what my dad did, and the man he had become during the years of feuds and wars.
It doesn’t excuse my dad’s actions, but I’m not sure I want the title I’ve inherited either.
I’m the last of the Contis and it makes me sad. Sure, I have a half-sister, but she’ll never be accepted at the table. Besides, she didn’t grow up in the life we’ve become used to.
I take my clothes off, crawl into bed and the tears come. I give way to years of pent-up anger and sadness. I cry for the family I wanted, the family I had and the family that was taken away from me by this life.
I miss Sal. I can’t wait to meet up with him and Sofia and the rest of his family. I mourn what I wanted from my dad, the love I never got, and I hope that in time I will find peace. We are all responsible for our lives and the decisions we make are our own.
And now, I have to make mine. Will I become the don and pick up where Dad left off? Or is there another path for me?
26
Sal
The days feel like years since Francesca last walked these hallways. The house is empty without her, and on top of it, she has the comfort of Matteo and I’m with my next in line, Maurizio.
Sofia is at the house with Mom, and both are under lock and key. Until we have located Guido, Sofia may not be safe. But Mom is guarded inside, and out, just like the rest of us.
Francesca and I talk daily, but mostly it’s turns more to business and how she can wash more money than it is phone sex. I’m worried that she is becoming the true leader of her family and that her love for it might replace her love for me.
Carla welcomed me to town with a text, we’re just friends now. I was wrong to lead her on just to make Francesca jealous.
On the other hand, it forced Francesca to take me out of the friend zone of patriots who worked together and kept strict rules of engagement. She viewed me differently after that date, as a man who has game and isn’t just a thinker, or bar owner. I’m also a man that won’t bend to her will. But I’ll be by her side.
I have a will of my own and I usually find a way to deal with people effectively with the least amount of force used if possible so they can become a potential ally in the future if need be. Making friends along the way can pay off.
Meanwhile, I’m back into my routine going to bed with an un-serviced boner every night as I listen to Francesca’s sweet voice.
I don’t want to hound her on when she’s coming up. Even if it’s just a visit, the ball is in her court. I’ve gone to the ends of the earth for her, so now, it’s time for her to decide.
A month is enough time to get her affairs in order. Will she come to me, or will she send for Sofia when it’s safe for her to return home?
I head to work and damn if Argon isn’t in my club. He’s the boss of the local Albanians in my territory and now I know he was getting his coke from the Contis. I’m pretty sure they recruit their own girls from their country as they have rough lives and people are desperate to leave it.
I don’t want to make waves as we’re lying low after Francesca’s family feud. But boy do I want to send a message to his pompous ass. Parading around in my club like it’s his.
How long do we have to hold off before we send a message? I hate Argon and it’s irritating the hell out of me every night I see his pompous ass in here. I’d love to meet him in a dark alley, but I can’t go against my brother.
I’m sure Dante is cooking up a strategic plan. We like to set things up so that these things are taken care of without us being in the picture. No need to implicate ourselves when we don’t have to. Which is a brilliant plan.
On a positive note, Enzo got shot in the leg, but he is on the mend and expected back to work any day now. We lost a few men and we made restitution to their families for their service.
Tomorrow is Sunday dinner at Mama’s house, and as much as I love to see my brothers, I feel the sadness that Francesca isn’t here . . . again. Are we just slipping away or are we going to move forward?
I make it through the night, spending most of it in my office doing books, but not really concentrating. I go downstairs and have a bourbon, neat. I hate to think I’m sick over a girl, so I brush if off to co-workers as if it’s just stress or exhaustion.
I head home, and when I get there, I find a sports car parked in my driveway, only it’s not mine. I look at my guard. “She’s here,” he whispers.