Page 7 of Delivered in White

“I’m dying, Rocco. You’d think in a lane as fast as mine, a blade or a bullet would’ve knocked me outta’ the race decades ago. But instead it’s my own damn body.”

“You mean those stupid cigars.” My dad folds his arms.

“A little of that too,” Stanzo hoots. “Listen, I still think I have a few good years left in me. And what do I want out of them?Grandkids.”

My breathing quickens. I’m sitting on my hands so he doesn’t see the wave of panic that just washed over me. Why else would he want me in the room?

“Tristano comes home with glitter on his face every other fucking night. If it doesn’t have tattoos and slide down poles, he won’t even give it a second glance. But your daughter, now she’s a beautiful antidote to my kid’s poison.”

My dad – rattled and dazed from before – catches on sluggishly. I see his face pull back in slow motion. “Are you mad, Stanz?I’m not selling my daughter.”

“Hey,hey.” Stanzo’s calm, terrifying voice reminds us both who we’re in the room with. “Take it easy. I’m offering an arrangement, of sorts.”

“Out of the fucking question!” my dad blurts, now pacing around the room.

Stanzo leans against the doorframe while taking off his black gloves, then pushes the blinds away to reveal his son.

“Him?”I should watch my tone, and my tongue. Look, he’s hot. Like, really freakin’ hot. Six-foot-two, full head of dark messy hair, tattoos peeking out of his open shirt, and a scar over his eyebrow that would make my slit cry with glee on any other day of the week. But if he’s anything like I remember when I was a kid, the dude has the personality of a wet rake. And he’s dangerous. Opposite of sitting behind a desk writing agreements, dangerous.

“Whoa now. You Dotellis gotta find your manners.”

“Oil and vinegar,” my dad growls. “How are you going to take my sweet kid into your dark world, Stanz? That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to accomplish.”

“For a sharp-tongued lawyer, you sure can be dense at times,” Stanzo says. “Look at it this way – you’ve been playing with fire since your thirties. You got cocky. Overstayed your welcome. Now you’re in deep evenifI’m able to take out Sonny Lucrazi. She’ll need protection, old friend. Who better than my fucking lion of a son?” He pushes himself upright and sticks his stinking cigar in Dad’s face. “One thing you should remember,yougot yourself into this mess. No one else.”

My eyes linger between the waving blinds, catching glimpses of Tristano pacing outside. His muscles have freakin’ muscles, and that skull-crown tattoo peeking out of his polo sends tingles all over. It’s like my body is pinching me to go talk to him.

What Stanzo had said before finally reaches my overtaxed brain. Strippers? Prostitutes? The man is probably a walking STD.Get out of your head, Capri.

My gaze shifts to Dad – a ball of sad, round anger with a button nose that gets all red when he’s flustered. He’s the one who gave me this life. No debt out of law school, set up my first interview. Raised me with love. Of course he’s not perfect,but I still owe him everything. If I marry Tristano, then all this hanging fear over our heads goes away – right?

“I see that brain calculating, Rocco my boy.” Stanzo slaps his face lightly. “You’re coming to the conclusion I came to on the phone. Blood money can’t buy your way out of everything, now can it?”

My dad huffs and wipes his mouth. “I get what you’re saying here, married in… she’d have built in protection. I just… not my little girl.” He winces. “Listen, if at the end of the day Sonny... you know. Promise me you’ll protect her when I’m gone, at least—”

“Daddy!”I pop off the bed, then turn to Stanzo. “May we have a minute to talk over yourgenerous proposal, please?”

“’Course, sweetie. I’ll be, uh, admiring the pool.” Stanzo takes a puff of his cigar while exiting through the glass door. He then closes us into a cloud of strong-scented smoke.

“There’s no other way to keep usbothalive –both of us. And you trust him,” I speak the obvious, so he knows I understand.

“Capri—”

“No, Dad. I’m not going to lose you. I love you.”

Tears are turning his eyes glassy. “Love you too, hunnie. But—”

“There’s nothing more to say.” I guide his hand still clutching the ice wrapped in a paper towel back to his face. “I’ll do it.”

Chapter 3

Tristano

What thefuckam I doing at the help’s house in broad daylight? I got a list of people to go who wronged my father, and if I’m up, I’m not about to waste the whole day on some minor detour because a lawyer is scared.

Kicking a beach ball into their lavish kidney-shaped pool makes me scoff.

One look at that fat Dotelli fuck yelling about God-knows-what makes me want to stick his head in a toilet and be done with it.

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