Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Gio and Davide, my other cousins who have been invited, are on the opposite side of the room. I doubt they would know more if I was able to ask them. Sighing, I lean against the wall, resigned to wait out my father’s game of suspense.
“Enzo, do you remember five years ago at Andy’s wedding?” my father asks me. It’s a redundant question. He knows more than anyone I remember, in great detail, that night. His question isn’t for himself, it’s for Eric.
Andy snickers next to me, and I shove my elbow into his side.
“Yes, father, I remember. It was a lovely event,” I say, meeting the eyes of the Don. Most people don’t believe there is such a clear distinction between my father and the Don, especially when they are the same person. But there is, and I know better than anyone. When I had been young and cocky, I made the mistake of believing they were the same one too many times and I carry the scars of it on my body as a reminder.
Andy is giggling like a child in a candy store, drawing everyone’s attention. Everyone, except for Eric’s. He keeps his eyes on the floor.
Awareness settles over me. Eric knows what happened that night. He knows something I don’t. Something that makes the muscle tick in my father’s jaw, something that has him so infuriated, that he has one of his oldest friends bound to a chair.
“Did you sleep with Emma? I had always suspected you did, but for this meeting to continue, I need to know for sure,” he addresses me, but he’s looking directly at Eric.
It was never important to clarify with my father exactly what happened, but I won't deny it.
“Yes,” I say, not caring to elaborate. There is no need to. He doesn't need to know any more of the details or he would ask. He nods his head at me before turning his entire attention to the man in the chair.
“I offered to pay for Emma’s college. Brown is prestigious and expensive, but you turned me down,” my father questions him. Chris’ dejected body is shivering from the cool of the room. He isn't dressed for this. My father doesn't require that Chris dress formally unless he is meeting with others, so the man only has a polo shirt and slacks on.
Chris has never been involved in this side of the business. He still knows what happens to the people who sit in my father's chair. Physically, he looks intact, so the real integration hasn't yet begun.
“She took a gap year,” Eric says, not bothering to meet my father’s eyes. Eric has been our corporate lawyer for as long as I can remember. My family built Eric. My grandfather took in an orphaned college student who had the brains but not the means to be someone and turned him into a lawyer. When his wife died shortly after his last year of law school, leaving him a single parent to a young girl, my family always made sure he had to best nannies around, and he sent her to the best schools. It doesn't matter to my father that he didn’t interact much with Emma. He views her as a part of the family.
If Eric has betrayed us, it will be a deep wound for my father. Yet the questions are about Emma. I can only hope whatever my father is getting at, he leaves Emma out of it. I rarely challenge my father; he is Don and his word is the law in the eyes of the famiglia. Though I am his heir, my duties and power are still limited until either he feels I am ready or his death. But Emma will not face his wrath, not if I have anything to do with it.
“Colorado isn't traveling far. It’s an especially odd choice to spend her gap year for someone who doesn’t ski,” my father states.
"She was visiting her aunt! I told you this," Eric defends. His voice cracks, guilt seeping out in his words.
If only the Don had bothered to let me in on the secret before dragging us into the interrogation room. Being briefed on the situation beforehand would have saved me from a lot of anxiety. I expect my father to cut to the chase and tell us why we’re all in here, but he has more to say first.
“And instead of attending one of the elite universities she had been accepted to, she goes to a state university in Kansas."
"She didn't want to follow in my footsteps anymore and become a lawyer. A social worker doesn't need an Ivy League education." His disapproval of her choices drips from his words.
“You set up a shell company to pay her tuition and for a new house she could live in. She changed her last name to her mother's maiden name.” My dad leans in closer to Chris to sneer at him, a fire burning in his eyes. He’s unpredictable when he gets like this. “I like you, Chris. Even more, I trust you. That’s why I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought maybe you were trying to let her choose a life of not being associated with the mafia.”