Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
But fuck Nevio for not being up to the task of being what the boy needed.
“Do I understand correctly that you want to keep caring for the boy for now?”
Fabiano walked back and forth in the room, his face on the verge of an outburst. I got it. He must be pissed about the situation. His eyes slanted to me, and I could see the same anger in them as five days before. I couldn’t blame him. Nino and I had kept things from him, important information about his daughter. I was glad he hadn’t packed his bags yet. That he was still here and willing to work on a solution for a fucking nightmare of a situation showed how loyal he was.
“This is insane. You’re eighteen. You have your whole life ahead of you. This isn’t even your child, and even if it were, nobody would blame you if you handed his care off to someone else. You’re almost a child yourself. You should live life to the fullest, not be bound by this responsibility.”
“I’m not a child, Dad. Growing up in our world makes it impossible to stay a kid for long, not just the boys who become Made Men.”
Leona sat there silently. She was generally a more quiet participant whenever arguments arose between our families, which had happened rarely. “I’m sure Serafina and Remo would gladly take care of Battista as his grandparents. That way you could move back to your apartment.”
Fina nodded enthusiastically. She had already bought clothes, toys, and furniture for the kid. “Of course, we would raise him until Nevio returns.”
Fabiano scoffed. “If he returns. And let’s be honest here, he still won’t be father material then. He’s a fucking mess. He’s lucky I haven’t bought a ticket to Naples yet to end his sorry ass for what he did to Aurora.”
I gritted my teeth. Threatening my son, the future Capo, was something that didn’t sit well with me, but fuck, Fabiano had every reason to hate Nevio right now. As his father, even I wasn’t happy about any of this. He’d messed up royally, and I wasn’t sure he’d ever redeem himself.
“Ultimately, it’s your decision as the head of your family if you’re willing to have Battista stay under your roof, but like Aurora said, the boy needs consistency. She can live here.”
“You know full well that this isn’t about the boy living under my roof. It’s about Aurora. Nevio has done nothing to deserve Aurora’s sacrifice.”
I nodded. I wasn’t blind to Nevio’s many faults. I met Aurora’s gaze. “I think we can all agree that he doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know,” she said. “Maybe one day he will.”
“You really think that?” Fabiano growled. “You are too clever to be foolish.”
“First and foremost, I’m doing this for Battista, not for Nevio, so it doesn’t matter,” she said defensively.
Aurora reminded me of Fina in some ways. Like me Nevio seemed to be drawn to the light when it came to women. And like me, Nevio had given up said woman. Fina had returned to me and I’d won her back. I hoped Nevio would manage to do the same.
5 days prior
After my tattoo appointment, I decided to head for Alvize’s estate in the countryside. I didn’t want to announce my visit to one of his three Captains in Naples, all of whom were married to his daughters and hoping to become the next Capo for want of a son.
His mansion was near the Vesuvius National Park, and the volcano’s foreboding cone loomed on the horizon. Massive cast-iron gates and an old stone wall barred my way onto the premises. I got out of my rental car and approached the gates. There was a security camera at the top. I looked up so whoever watched the footage would get a good look at my face. “I’m Nevio Falcone and here to support my great-uncle.”
For a while, nothing happened. I gripped the steel bars and looked inside. Over boarding bushes with pink flowers, huge olive and fig trees, and extensive rosemary shrubs filled this side of the garden. Farther up, I could see the red shingles and white top floor of a villa.
Steps crunched on the asphalt, which was ripped where the unrelenting sun had worn the material down. Two guards with machine guns came into view. They shouted at me in Italian with a Neopolitan dialect.
“Put your hands behind your head and lie down.”
What a warm welcome, but I did as they said. If I killed them, Alvize might be less inclined to let me stay.
The sun had heated the ground to a degree that I had to hold back a hiss when my chest pressed against the surface. My tattoo was still fresh. Maybe the foil the tattoo artist had put on it would burn itself into my skin.