Page 15 of His to Break

Setting my espresso cup down on the counter in Roma, one of the Italian restaurants my family owns, I scan the figures on the laptop screen in front of me. Takings have been down the last couple of months, and Antonio asked me to find out why. It’s the sort of task he would usually delegate to someone at a lower level in the organization, but this place is special. We’ve had it since the nineties when my father bought it and it means more to us than most of our newer properties. It evokes a strong sense of nostalgia. We used to celebrate all our family birthdays, anniversaries, and other important occasions here, before my father died. With so many memories held between these frescoed walls, we’d hate to see the restaurant go under.

“Dennis.” I call the manager over.

He approaches with the trepidation I’ve come to expect of the employees who have to deal with me. Because of my well-deserved reputation for violence, people are more at ease with my brothers. That’s a mistake. There’s nothing I’ve done that they haven’t. I guess the difference is that I’ve never hidden the fact I enjoy spilling the blood of people who cross us.

“What’s up, Leo?” Dennis grabs the edge of the bar as if he’s afraid his legs will give out. He’s a short, gray-haired man in his fifties who’s been managing the restaurant for a couple of years now. His sharp features remind me of a rodent. I don’t like the guy, but the customers and staff all seem to love him.

“Takings are down thirty percent on this time last year.” I get straight to the point. “What the fuck is going on?”

Dennis shoots an uneasy look to the left, toward the door leading into the kitchens. I wonder if he knows he’s just given away the source of the problem.

“It’s Gino.”

“What about him?” My tone is sharper than necessary, but Gino is a good guy. He’s been the chef here since my father’s day. They were friends, and I’d hate for there to be some issue with him.

“He’s not what he once was.” Dennis scrubs a hand over his face. He knows whatever he’s about to say won’t go down well with me. “His standards have slipped, Leo. He’s making mistakes. Customers have been complaining about the food. They’re going elsewhere.”

“Shit!”

“We’ve tried to cover for him. Sonia’s been stepping up, but…”

“Yeah.” I cut him off before he goes into detail. The issue is obvious. Gino’s a stubborn old goat and I doubt he enjoys a young woman like Sonia taking more control in the kitchen. “I’ll deal with it.”

The tension in Dennis’s shoulders eases now he’s dumped the problem off on me. I, on the other hand, experience a strange tightening in my chest. I rarely stress about business, but letting Gino know it’s time to retire isn’t going to be fun. The old man has a lot of pride. Being told he’s no longer doing his job effectively is going to hurt him. Frankly, I’d rather break someone’s kneecaps.

“Thanks, Leo.”

I don’t acknowledge him. Waving at my empty espresso cup, I bark out, “Get me another.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

I shut down the laptop and turn as someone comes through the door behind me. I’m about to tell them we’re closed, but it’s my younger brother, Alessandro. Like me, he’s wearing a black suit, with a white shirt, open at the neck. Like me, he hates wearing ties. We both find them too restrictive.

Married just a few months ago, to the beautiful and demure Emilia, Alessandro has a ‘cat that got the cream’ look about him most of the time. Today, he’s grinning even more broadly than usual.

“What are you so fucking happy about?” I ask.

“I just left Mamma’s house.”

“And?”

“Livvy brought your wife over.”

I shrug. I knew my little sister wouldn’t keep Vinnie to herself. It’s why my phone’s been blowing up all day. My mother is losing her shit over me getting married without telling her. She’s got this crazy idea that a marriage has to start out right, which means a load of fuss and a church blessing. Antonio had the full package when he married Isabella, but his relationship turned to shit within weeks. She conspired with his enemies and he ended up taking a bullet in the shoulder. Isabella’s living in exile and I’ve got the unhappy task of liaising with her guards, making sure she’s behaving herself.

Alessandro’s wedding to Emilia was, in contrast, an intimate affair in our family home. They seem to be more nauseatingly in love every time I see them, so I guess how you start out doesn’t really matter.

Alessandro takes a seat next to me as Dennis places my espresso in front of me.

“Hey, Dennis,” my brother says, reaching across the counter to shake the other man’s hand. “How’s Maria?”

“She’s good.”

“Yeah? The chemo’s working?”

I glance up at Dennis. His wife has cancer? I had no fucking idea.

“Seems to be,” Dennis replies.

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