Page 68 of Savage King

"Really?" Stephano doesn't let go. "Not even if they had his little girl?

"We're not talking about hypotheticals here, we're—" Sweat trickles down his forehead and neck, and if possible, his face turns even redder. Is it too much to ask of God for him to have a heart attack? To die right now, right here, right in front of my eyes?

"Stephano has a point," Marcello interrupts his father. "What happened was a very unfortunate incident. Antonio did the right thing, straight away. He didn't try to cover it up or downplay it. He had fail-safes in place, and he acted swiftly. I see no fault in this."

"I'm with your son on this," Gustave says, nodding at me. I suppose Edoardo pissing him off the other day didn't go over well with the old man.

"Well, it's a good thing theboydoesn’t have a vote yet, but I do." Carlos puffs his chest out.

"I'd be very careful, if I were you, on how you cast that vote," Fabrizio surprises me. I've known him for a long time as Enrico’s dad, and I kind of like to think of him as an uncle, but Fabrizionever takes sides. Not openly. He likes to play both sides of the political field, just like Gustave. It must be an old-timer thing. "Because Stephano brought up a very valid point. I, for one, do not fancy a bullet to my head because one of my men decided to sing."

"Is that it then? Forgive and forget?" Edoardo fumes.

"You can make him return my territory to me. This wouldn't have happened under my watch," Carlos suggests slyly, dabbing sweat from his bald head.

Edoardo only glares at me. I cock my head,go ahead motherfucker, try me, my eyes convey.

"What about the Venezuelans?" Marcello brings the subject back to what I want to discuss as well.

"Matías assured me he will look into it, and that is good enough for me," Edoardo repeats his earlier statement. Stephano opens his mouth to say something, but Edoardo wipes his hands. "Basta, Finito. I don't want to hear another word about it."

Across the table, Marcello's and my eyes catch for a second time. Something is off here.

Edoardo is the first to storm out the door, running straight into Donna Margarita on the other side. "Donna Margarita, this is a surprise."

"… I want to know everything about the Venezuelans," I hear Marcello instruct his second-in-command, a large Sicilian whom he brought with him from his exile. Interesting. It seems like Marcello and I are on the same wavelength here.

A loud snap turns my attention back to Donna Margarita and Edoardo. Fuck, I missed her slapping him.

"You spineless bastard," she hisses, her voice shaking with fury. "What are you going to do about that killer?" Her finger stabs the air at Enrico.

"Donna Margarita." Enrico bows his head toward her, the sides of his lips twitch, and Fabrizio all but pulls his son out by his ear. I smirk at him.

“Giovanni kidnapped his sister. It was in his rights to kill your son. I'm sorry, Donna Margarita," Edoardo apologizes, and for a short moment, I feel sorry for the bastard. She is his mother-in-law, after all.

That moment passes quickly; the idiot deserves everything coming his way.

With that distraction, Marcello sidles up to me, his voice hard against my ear, low enough for only me to hear, "If you ever point a gun at me again, I'll kill you."

I grin at him. I can't help it. I'm starting to like him.

"Fair enough," I nod. "Just so that we're clear, though, if I point a gun at you again, I'll pull the trigger."

He returns my grin coldly. "Fair enough."

It's getting late.Nervously, I look at the display on my phone again. It's almost ten.

Vito and Gigi arrived here almost four hours ago. Vito wouldn't say anything other than that Antonio was delayed and would meet us here. Gigi is just as tense as I am, turning to look at the clock on the mantle as often as I check my phone.

"Delayed by what?" She asks Vito for the fifth time.

His expression is guarded. Even if Gigi hadn't told me about their relationship, the unmistakable love in his eyes when he looks at her would clue me in. He's head over heels for her. If I weren't so worried about Antonio right now, I would analyze the situation more. There is no way in hell Antonio doesn't know about their relationship. He is the most perceptive man I've evermet, which leaves the question of why he hasn't said or done anything wide open. But like I said, I'm way too worried to dive in and open that particular can of worms.

"Business," Vito answers Gigi's question. I don't know him very well, or at all, but even the tone of his voice is different when he talks to her.

"Oh, this is unbearable," Gigi laments, throwing her arms up in the air.

"Why don't you go take a bath?" Vito suggests.

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