Nicoli, Caelian, and Isaia walk in behind me. Nicoli’s usual smirk is absent, replaced with sharp edges and hard lines. Caelian has a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a fervent gleam in his eyes as if excited about shit finally hitting the fan. Isaia glances my way as he slips in behind Nicoli, and I notice the reluctance in his eyes. I know what he’s thinking. “Isaia,” I call. “You do not stand at the back. You’re also a part of this family, so take your place next to Caelian.”
He hesitates but then moves in next to Caelian. No matter the differences between Isaia and myself, this feels right, having him here and including him. Hopefully, if tonight goes well, this is how it will be from now on.
“Security is escorting them in,” Maximo says, standing guard by the entry.
“Tell them to back down as soon as they enter the house.”
“What?” Maximo’s brows curve. “No.”
“Tell them to back down,” I repeat, lowering my voice. “We’re settling this like men tonight, and not a bunch of pussies hiding behind a wall of bulletproof-wearing security guys.”
“I think that’s the best pep-talk I’ve ever heard.” Nicoli grins, his energy contagious.
Nicoli exhales a plume of smoke. “Is it strange that I’m a little turned on right now from all this tension? My spine’s all tingly.”
“Just keep it in your pants. No one wants to see your ugly dick tonight,” Isaia says, lacking the grin to go with that dose of sarcasm.
I trace my finger along the gold DS engraved into my black tufted chair—my father’s chair—before taking a seat. If my father was here, what would he say? What would he want me to do? The Dark Sovereign started out as carved in five. Three Del Rossas. Two Savellis. An uneven number to ensure we never end in a deadlock. It was supposed to be the merging of two strong families, a joining that made us as powerful and influential as we are today. But my uncle’s greed fucked that up, creating a rift between us. If Roberto were to retain his place within the Dark Sovereign, it will only be a matter of time before he sells us out to the highest bidder and gathers more allies who will eventually support his cause of getting rid of every Del Rossa. That’s what he’s been trying to do for years. He doesn’t want five around this table. He wants one. Him.
Over my dead goddamn body.
Rome enters the room first, specks of snow glistening on his black trench coat. We greet each other with a curt nod and a knowing look. I glance at Maximo, a silent sign for him to do as we planned, and he stomps out just as Roberto walks in looking like the smug, fat bastard he is. Not even an Armani suit can make him look less repulsive.
“I see we’re all here.” He stops short, and his cruel gaze finds Isaia. “What are you doing here, if I may ask?”
“You may not,” I interject. “He’s my brother, so his place is here with the rest of us.”
“He has no place here. There are only five.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here? You no longer have a place here since your son took yours.”
Roberto scoffs. “I’m merely here for support. Teaching my son the ins and outs, showing him the reins.”
Ricardo comes walking in, pale as a fucking ghost and eyes bewildered.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” I say, leaning back in my chair, glowering at the coward who hardly ever shows his face around here.
Nicoli snorts. “He’s never here because, just like the rest of us, he knows he doesn’t belong here, do you, Uncle?”
Ricardo barely makes eye contact with Nicoli, cautiously glancing at Roberto from under his dark brows.
“Fuck knows why someone would think you have something valuable to offer,” Nicoli continues. “You’re just here to fill a seat. But lucky for you, we have far better-suited candidates to take your place. So do us all a favor and fuck off.”
“Is that any way to speak to your uncle?” Roberto snaps, his eyes lit with disdain.
“No,” Nicoli says, stalking closer. “It’s the way to talk to a coward and his backstabbing, low-life piece of shit brother who has an ass for brains because everything that comes out of your mouth is complete and utter shit.”
I hear Caelian snort behind me, and I watch in silence as my twin brother and uncle keep their glares locked in a silent battle of power. It’s Roberto who looks away first. Of course, it is. We all know he doesn’t have the balls to take on any of us, especially not Nicoli.
“So,” Roberto turns to me, “where is your lovely wife this evening?”
“Vacation.”
“Oh, well, that’s too bad. I hoped to congratulate her on her father’s early parole.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my composure and not lose my shit so early in the conversation. “No need to congratulate her. You might want to pay your respects since he’s dead.” I shrug. “You know, from one piece of shit to another.”
His expression falters. “What do you mean he's dead?”