Page 4 of Reign Of Triumph
I lost a good friend because of Giusto’s lies. He would have been punished, and Miranda might still be here today with her family. A family destroyed because Giusto couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I saw red. Luciano was just as angry. That night, we took him to a secluded spot and beat the shit out of him. I would have killed him if Luciano hadn’t stopped me. It felt good in the moment, and it’s clear to Giusto that I will end him if he ever speaks of Miranda again.
It wasn’t enough justice for the crime committed, but Eros taking Giusto’s place as an underboss is a good start.
Eros drives up the unpaved road and swings his car into the spot closest to the door. From the window, my father sees Eros drive in and goes out to greet him. Luciano is by his side as well as several of our soldiers. Eros steps out of the vehicle with a wicked grin on his lips.
“Special delivery,” he says. Shit! This is the first time I’ve seen him smile in years. For a split second, he resembles that young boy in the gym.
He tosses his car keys in my direction. “Trunk, I assume,” I mutter.
“Yep. He should still be knocked out cold. He’s going to have a rude awakening,” Eros replies. I pop the trunk to see that Wan Kwok is inside, motionless.
“He looks dead,” I comment.
“I brought him to you virtually unharmed. You can have all the fun you want. He’ll be coming around”—Eros glances at his watch—“in about an hour. Want some help getting him inside?”
“Vito and Gasparo will take him to the cell,” my father cuts in. Quickly, the two men by my father’s side come to do his bidding. “I promised Alessio Cassini, Reno Viale, and Raffaele Di Morte I would wait until their arrival for the festivities to begin.”
Eros shrugs. “Sounds fair considering Wan’s caused extensive trouble in all three territories.”
“You’re welcome to stick around,” Dad invites.
“Whatever you wish, Capo,” Eros answers. Dad’s eyes light up. This is the first time since Eros turned away from the family that he’s called my father Capo. In our conversations, he always referred to my father as Mr. Moretti, or simply “your father,” but Capo, never.
“I wish for you to tell me what you want. Honestly,” Dad says.
“I’m not a joiner. Perhaps you can give the other capos my best, and we can meet again at the wedding. I’d rather go home and see my parents. My mother will be excited to see me home for dinner.” That’s part of what I admire about this man. He’s not about having his ego stroked because he found Wan Kwok when no one else could. Eros set out to do what he promised, and now he’s done.
“Go home, then, but tomorrow, come to my house, with your father. We have business to finish.”
Three
The Newest Underboss
Eros
The doorbell chimes, and immediately, the gracious donna, Gloria Moretti, Marco’s wife, answers and greets us. Gloria’s a classy woman, and very much admired and respected by all.
“Armando, it’s so wonderful to see you again. It’s been far too long,” she says. My father takes her outstretched hand, and she urges him to enter. “How is your lovely wife?”
“She’s doing well, Mrs. Moretti. She sends her best,” Dad replies cordially.
“Next time, Monica is to accompany you. Promise me?”
“If that is your wish, then I’m sure I can convince her.” My father gives her a shy smile. To be invited to your capo’s home is a high honor, and I can see that my father is pleased.
“And Eros, my goodness, look at how you’ve grown into such a handsome young man,” Gloria says. From anyone else, I’d say it’s just polite blathering, but I see that Gloria means what she says. Then she lifts herself onto her tiptoes while tugging on my arm and pecks my cheek. She whispers, “Nero has missed his friend. I’m so happy to have you come home to us.”
Damn! The woman knows exactly how to punch you in the gut without actually punching you in the gut. I recall the first time my father and I were invited to the Moretti estate. Gloria was loving and motherly, making sure that Nero, Luciano, and I were spoiled with treats. We three boys became inseparable. I can see that removing myself has affected others, but it was necessary for me to stand my ground. I hate that Gloria and Nero were upset by it.
I lift my chin and force a smile. “It’s good to be home, Mrs. Moretti.” Her smile grows wider, and she links her arm in mine, guiding my father and me down the hall. Murmurs from the office become louder as we approach. And then I hear his nasal, arrogant voice, and the burning rage builds inside me. My back stiffens, and my father holds me in check.
“Stick to your plan, figlio,” he utters quietly beside me.
From inside Marco’s office, through the heavy wooden door, we can still clearly hear the loud rumbling of voices.
“Capo, you must be joking. It’s my birthright to be underboss of the West Side. It was my father’s territory, and it belongs to me. You can’t just rip it away.” The mere sound of Giusto’s grating voice is enough to make me want to vomit.
“It is tradition. Not a right. I’ve kept a close watch, and since your takeover, the profits have dropped considerably, while the other territories have thrived. We’ve had more hits from the enemy and lost more men under your guidance, and there have been no new ideas to rectify the matter. I’ve had to send Luciano several times to assist you, yet as soon as he sets things where they should be, you backslide, and now we’re in the place where we started. You’ve shown incompetence and a lack of foresight. This is not how an underboss behaves. An underboss considers the business and his men first, and from what I hear, you spend more time at the whorehouses than you do at your office. What you do in your own time is your business, but on my time, you do my bidding,” Marco says sternly. “It was because of your father’s friendship that I allowed this to go on for as long as I have; however, I have a responsibility to all my men and their families. This is my decision, and I’ve made up my mind.”
