Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
As always when his mother was mentioned, Dario shut down, his features completely expressionless, his dark eyes looking like the pits of hell.
“You know who betrayed us,” Val said. “You have to know.”
Giuseppi sighed again. “There was only one other. He tore out my heart.”
“I will take care of it,” Val said. “You have only to pass on the reins to me. I will identify the traitors in our family. I may miss one or two at this meeting, but in the end, I will find them all. The message will go out today that we are strong, that we will not tolerate betrayal and it is business as usual even if it is war with Miceli. And it is war.”
Giuseppi took Val’s arm and leaned heavily on him for a moment before straightening. “You’re certain your injuries will allow you to do this? You can’t show any weakness, Val.”
Valentino raised an eyebrow. “I am your son. I never forgot one single lesson. Not one single word. You know that about me.” It was the truth. Valentino retained everything, even when he wished he couldn’t. “There is no need to remind me.” Even to his father, he couldn’t show weakness. He was taking over whether Giuseppi liked it or not. There had been too many mistakes, and there couldn’t be any more. Already, the war had spilled onto the streets. He didn’t want innocent blood spilled.
The reporters were all over the story at the lake house, with helicopter crashes and bodies found on rooftops and in boats and vehicles. It looked like a war zone, all men known to the police as soldiers for the mafia, yet the explanations Stefano and Vittorio as well as the doctor had given about the attack left the Ferraro family, Giuseppi and Valentino in the clear. Lawyers for both families had stepped in and fielded questions after they had briefly spoken with law enforcement, but that didn’t stop the frenzy of reporters from trying to find answers.
Fortunately, the Ferraro Hotel was a luxury hotel, and it was business as usual. Famous clientele came and went. No one thought anything of the expensive cars driving into the exclusive parking garage. Once there, those cars were directed to a private elevator and taken to a garage on an underground floor to be first vetted by guards before the occupants were allowed out to be escorted to the conference room.
Demetrio and Drago pushed open the double doors to the conference room and entered first. Instantly, all talk stopped. No one knew them, and this was a private meeting. The two stepped to either side of the door, and Dario strode in. He scanned the room with dark, piercing eyes. Nothing escaped him. Nothing. He noted each man, whether they looked nervous, excited, passive or like they were just waiting to see what was going to happen. His gaze touched on Custanzu Parisi. He was seated at the right hand of the table. The advisor to the Don. The shark. He was smiling. Looking relaxed. Serene.
Giuseppi entered, walking in with a straight back and straight shoulders. Head up. His gaze sharp and a smile of greeting on his face for his capos. Valentino strode in behind him, tall, his frame muscular, looking fit, eyes scanning the room just as Dario’s had. Giuseppi went straight to the head of the table, nodding to those calling out greetings. Valentino took the seat to his left. Demetrio and Drago stepped out of the room and closed the double doors. Dario stood back against the wall, facing the capos, in between Giuseppi and Valentino.
Valentino knew the lighting in the conference room created shadows, and somewhere inside those shadows were guardians to help Dario should they be attacked. Bernado, Emilio and Enzo were watching each of the capos in the room, sweeping them for electronic equipment as well as hacking into their phones for personal information.
“As you can see, the rumors of my demise are premature,” Giuseppi said with a quick laugh. “My brother has declared war on us. He attacked me and my son and nephew at my family home and then again at the lake house.” He smiled the smile of a wolf and picked up the espresso that Val had poured for him from one of the small carafes the Ferraros’ select staff had set out in front of each chair. Taking a sip, he placed the cup precisely on the table and looked around. “He lost a small army, but no doubt he will try to regroup and come at us again. I believe it is a young man’s game to wage war such as this, and given the success he has achieved, I have decided it is time to turn the reins of the Saldi empire over to Valentino, my son.”