Page 72 of Rosetti Family New York
“No way,” Dom says, flat.
Sal leans in, his face dark, like the stained-glass lamp over the table. “One of you has to do it.”
Dom laughs, harsh and short. “It’s not going to be me.”
“It’s not going to be me,” I say, holding up my hand with my wedding band.
Sal shrugs, leans back. “I thought you were smarter than that. Both of you.”
The table’s silent. I’m still trying to get my head around it. One of the Rosetti sons as a peace offering. It doesn’t add up, doesn’t make sense. We’re stronger than ever, and those Albanians have been bleeding territory for months.
“We don’t need them,” Dom says, the edge in his voice razor-sharp.
“They’re desperate,” I add. “Why should we—”
“Because they asked.” Sal slams his hand down, glasses rattling. “And because it’ll stop a fucking war.”
A muscle jumps in Dom’s jaw. “Let them start one. We’ll finish it.”
Sal shakes his head, looks at Dom like he’s stupid or worse. “This isn’t optional. One of you single boys will marry, and that’s final.”
Dom’s on his feet, seething. “Get Emilio to do it,” he says. “Better yet, Matteo. He’ll sleep with anyone, even the enemy.”
I wait for the explosion, for Sal to take Dom apart, but the old man just nods. “It’ll be you,” Sal says, cool. “You’re the heir. Act like it.”
Dom stands there, breathing hard, trying to stare Sal into changing his mind. It doesn’t work. It never does.
“Eat,” Sal says, like nothing’s happened, like he hasn’t just tossed a fucking grenade into the family. “Food’s getting cold.”
I sit back down, watch Dom sit too, arms crossed like a kid in time out. I wonder if he’ll walk away from this, the way he walks away from everything else Sal tries to hand him.
We finish in silence, forks clinking, my mind spinning. I can’t see Dom going through with it, but he doesn’t call Sal’s bluff either. Not yet.
I think about asking what the Albanian daughters are like, but I keep my mouth shut for once. The old man gets up, heads to the restroom. Says we’ll see him outside. I look at Dom, and he looks like he wants to tear the table in half.
“Congrats,” I say, unable to stop myself. “You’re gonna be a family man.”
He glares, dangerous. “Fuck you.”
“Seriously,” I press. “Maybe you’ll fall in love.”
He laughs, sharp and bitter. “What would you know about it?”
It’s my turn to glare. “I know you’ll marry a corpse before you marry an Albanian.”
I lean back, cracking my knuckles, deciding I don’t care as long as I don’t have to have anything to do with those fuckers. Sal returns, shrugs into his coat. We follow him out into the briskair. The street’s noisy, afternoon crowds moving like they’ve got someplace better to be.
“We’ll talk at the house,” Sal says, disappearing into the car that’s waiting.
I wait until he’s gone, until it’s just me and Dom in front of Angelo’s.
“What’s Ma gonna say?” I ask, grinning.
“Nothing,” Dom says, starting to walk. “Because it’s not happening.”
I watch him go, fast and determined. The knot in my stomach unwinds, but only a little. I’ve got a feeling about this. It’s going to be a hell of a year.
Savage Oath
