Page 63 of Creed

They aren’t directly involved, but they aren’t entirely clean as ‘enablers.’

“Most of our…activitiesinvolve things like arms dealing, cleaning money, and fraud targeting corrupt corporations and its executives.”

He says all this so matter-of-factly.

I frown. “You target, like, legitimate, real corporations?”

“Corruptones or corrupt executives, yes. You’d be surprised how many there are.” He tilts his head, watching me. “And also to know that the criminal underworld is run much like a corporation, with business practices and mindsets similar to those of a Fortune 500 company. The main difference is the tax-paying part.”

“Or the criminal mandate,” I scoff.

“True. However, power begets power, Soph. You’re drawing a line in the sand between the worlds, and that’s not wrong to do. I have done it myself, so I stay firmly entrenched in the part of my family’s world that I have chosen. However, even on the side of the line that isn’t mafia-related, there are copious amounts of power-grabbing, greed, and corruption.

“Sure, the smiling faces of the Fortune 500 companies are revered, as many should be,” he continues. “However, not all are as clean as they portray themselves, and have corruption and practices to gain access to resources, opportunities, and relationships that feed only their end goals, often of which aren’t listed in the company’s mission and vision statements.”

He relaxes back in his chair, swirling more pasta and chicken, and inclines his chin at my plate, telling me to eat. “Being on the legitimate side of the line doesn’t equate goodness, angel.”

He’s right; I know that. There are lots of shitty people who are law-abiding citizens.

“I have two brothers,” he states instead of trying to convince me further.

I appreciate that he doesn’t try to push and justify anything or convince me. Instead, he opens up to help me learn more abouthim.

“Massimo is the oldest and will take over as the Don.” He smiles. “Vito, my other brother, calls him a grumpy motherfucker every day just to taunt and tease him.”

“You’re close with your brothers?”

“Very. My immediate extended family as well. We’d probably be the equivalent to the Brady Bunch, only the mafia version.”

I can’t help but laugh. “What’s your mom like?” She, of all his family members, intrigues me the most.

“She’s a plotter.” Creed smiles, shaking his head but not expanding. “She had her hands full raising us boys, yet she instilled in us an awareness of our privilege and not to be cocky or vain. And that, even in our world—a family who’s ‘in the life’—you can do good. When…” He pauses, rubbing his thumb over his jaw. “Ifyou meet her,” he amends, “don’t be surprised if she speaks only Italian to you.”

“She’s not fluent in English?”

That makes Creed laugh. “Oh, she is. It’s a little game she likes to play if we bring a girl home who isn’t Italian.”

I can seeAbueladoing the same thing if I brought home a non-Hispanic male. “As a test? To see the character of the person and how they respond?”

“Exactly. Tell me about your family again.”

I push my pasta around with my fork, then select a chunk of bruschetta instead. “You know my mom died before I graduated, and we lived with my grandparents for several years.”

“Why do you feel so strongly about helping to support your family?” There’s no judgment in Creed’s question, just curiosity.

“We weren’t poor but weren’t flush with cash, either. Besides my grandparents helping support some of my cousins, they give whatever they can to the people in our community who need help. Family helps family, and our family helps others who need it. That’s how we were raised.”

“That’s commendable. And what’s the order of all the cousins?”

“Antonio is the oldest; there’s roughly a ten-year difference between him and me, and he loves all of us like his own. That’s why we call himTio. Then there’s me. Sylvie is the next oldest; she’ll be thirteen soon. Then they clump together closer in age—Jose, Isabel, Carmen, Matias, Josefa, Laura, Pilar, Lucia, and Diego is the baby.”

“That’s a brood.” He steeples his fingers under his chin. “Mammawould be envious.”

“She wants lots of grandkids?” My stomach flutters.

“She loves children and wanted more herself; however, she couldn’t get pregnant again after me.”

“You totally used that, didn’t you? To brag that, because you were so perfect, the mold was broken or something like that.” I smile, even though a woman wanting more children and being unable to isn’t a smiling matter.

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