Page 98 of The Deadly Candies

Matteo killed the engine. "Remember—we’re here to learn. Toimpresshim. If he thinks we’re just dumb kids, we’re dead."

Carmelo’s smirk faded. "And if he sees through us?"

Matteo met his brother’s gaze. "Then we’realreadydead."

Matteo reached for the door handle. Carmelo grabbed his arm and stopped him. Matteo looked over. “What is it?”

“Ma. Have you spoken to her, about the baby and everything?” Carmelo asked.

Matteo sighed. “I tried but she cried so hard and prayed that I had to stop. I wish she hadn’t found out this way. That I had the time to get her ready for the news, to help her see how this is not a threat to the family but a blessing.”

Carmelo nodded. “She heard us that day talking. No turning back now. I’m worried. She’s been weird. Matteo?”

“What do you mean?” Matteo asked.

“I dunno. It’s just how she acts now. She spends a lot of time in the basement, and she is ignoring Nino. I must watch him more. But then she comes out all smiles and talks about me and Maria Romero. Knowing that I love Kathy. It’s like… I dunno. She’s in her own world or something.”

Matteo sighed, “I’m going to take her to church and shopping. Spend the day with her. That usually works. First, we need to deal with DeMarco. Second, we go on bended knee to father. You take up the boxing he wants you to do, and I’ll get in the business.”

“Perfecto.” Carmelo agreed.

The Brownstone

The door opened before they could knock.

A hulkingsoldatowith a face like a meat cleaver eyed them, then stepped aside without a word. The foyer was dim, lit by a single brass chandelier, its light glinting off the polished walnut paneling. The air was thick with the scent of cigars and something darker—power.

At the end of the hall, a set of double doors stood ajar.

Matteo took a steadying breath and stepped forward.

Inside, the room was a study in controlled opulence. Persian rugs swallowed their footsteps. A mahogany desk, its surface gleaming under the glow of a green-shaded lamp, dominated the space. And behind it?—

DeMarco Salvatore.

The Sicilian didn’t look up as they entered. He was writing something in a ledger, his pen scratching across the paper like a blade. His suit was immaculate—charcoal gray, tailored to his lean frame. His hair, silver-streaked black, was slicked back, and his face was all angles, sharp enough to draw blood. The scar on his cheek didn’t appear ghastly in this light. It looked more tribal, like a right of passage he had to take to come out of the slums of Sicily to this posh life.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were black pits.

"Matteo. Carmelo." His voice was smooth, accent thick as Sicilian wine. "Your father doesn’t know you’re here."

It wasn’t a question.

Matteo forced a smile. "We wanted to come toyoufirst."

DeMarco leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Oh?"

Carmelo stepped forward, playing his part perfectly. "We want to learn. Therealbusiness. Not just the street stuff. It’s time Papa sees us as men. The men he raises to take the family forward."

“But you are lovebirds. Matteo with his negro whore and you Romeo, who misses his Juliet,” sneered at the boys. Carmelo didn’t have to look at his brother to know the insult landed it’s target. He could feel the tension rise in the office. Matteo had a pure heart but a temper like a volcano. So Carmelo stepped forward.

“Who we love, who we fuck, who we entertain ourselves with is not of your concern DeMarco. What is of concern is you as a consigliere have spent no time in educating us, preparing us for your Don’s succession. And we both know Papa wants it.”

DeMarco left brow arched but he continued to glare at Matteo and smirk.

Carmelo continued. “If you wish not to help, we will go to consigliere Alessandro Nero. Who services Don Lombardo and tell him that we are lost boys, wanting to make our Papa proud and remove the shame we have brought upon him with our mistakes. But you are too busy counting his money behind his back instead of counseling us on the ways of the Mafia.

Matteo blinked out of his rage. He looked over at his little brother shocked. Carmelo was more in control and more of a pro than he had ever believed possible with all he’s been through.

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