Page 7 of Because I Need You
We were all monsters. Some of us wore fancy suits. Others wore plain clothes. It didn’t matter what we wore, though, it didn’t change the fact that we were bad human beings. The Italians treated organized crime the way the Catholic Church treated their organization. The irony shouldn’t be lost on you there, for obvious reasons. Staying organized sometimes meant doing messy shit, and that was exactly what the men who came before us did. They did what they had to do to ensure we all had a shot at this. Times change though, and they were changing rapidly. It was something my father didn’t want to accept. Something Silvio Costello didn’t want to accept. Something Charles Bonetti sure as shit didn’t want to accept. Something Angelo Costello, Lorenzo’s dad back in Italy, didn’t want to accept. They were all the same, cut-outs of their fathers before them. Our generation was different. We followed rules, but they were rules we made. We were constantly looking for a way to bend the old rules just a little, to forge change that would hopefully reflect the time we lived in. They may not want to understand that, but we did, and we knew if there was any way in hell to keep all of this afloat, we’d all have to adjust. So, while they had their meetings that we were privy to sometimes, we had our own meetings. Our meetings didn’t matter, though. We all needed those seats.
“Besides, that’s now how it works,” Loren added. “We can’t just pick who takes the seat. There’s a process, and we’re not part of it. That’s for Silvio, Angelo, and Dean to handle. And you at the moment, since you’re acting as your father.”
“Right. A process.” I reclined back in my chair.
The only reason I even had a seat was because my father was a fugitive and was currently hiding out in another country. Otherwise, I’d still be beneath him. Waaaay beneath him actually, but he announced that I’d be a sit-in. That was exactly what he’d called it. He thought having me take his place showed strength, showed that he was still calling the shots. But now, there was an empty seat up for grabs and I needed to find out who I was running against if I decided to snatch it. Me taking it meant my father was automatically tossed aside. We couldn’t have two members of the same family in these seats.
“Who wants the seat? Dominic?”
“Maybe.” Lorenzo shrugged a shoulder. “You’d have to ask him.”
“As if you don’t already know the answer.”
“I don’t speak for Dom.”
“Dean should choose on behalf of you guys,” Nadia said. “He’s the boss of your little squad anyway. All of you answer to him.”
Lorenzo scowled. I felt myself scowl as well. Nadia laughed, shaking her head because she knew she wasn’t wrong. Dean was practically all of our older brother. He was the oldest, definitely the wisest, and the one who had truly, one-hundred-percent grown up getting his hands dirty in this life. He’d also killed his stepfather, who’d once been the boss of bosses, and that earned him everyone’s fear. And respect. And a damn seat. It didn’t help that he knew every single detail of everyone’s life. Dean could probably tell you at what time each of us took a shit every day. It was annoying, terrifying, and awe-inspiring.
Nadia sighed heavily. “Fine.”
“Fine what?” I asked, shooting a bewildered look in her direction. If she was about to say she’d take the seat, I would laugh in her face. Yes, women were allowed at the table and mostly everywhere else, but not at that table. Not yet anyway. It was already a hell of a process, as Lorenzo pointed out.
“Charles left something for you in his will,” she said. “So, I have to ask about it.”
“For me?” What the fuck? I looked at her, then at Loren who shrugged, and back at her. This was the reason she was in my office to begin with. “You’re making me nervous.”
“So, do you…are you…don’t even know how to ask this question,” she said, laughing. She started trying again and as I watched her struggle with words, my heart started to pound hard. Nadia was never unsure or uneasy. Finally, she squinted at me and asked, “Are you married by any chance?”
“What?” I blinked, then let out a laugh. “Now is not the time for this kind of joke. You know I’m not married.”
“It’s kind of not a joke,” she said quietly.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You, Giovanni Masseria, are married to Charles Bonetti’s daughter,” she said. “According to the document he left for you, which, of course, would mean, you’re entitled to that seat if you want it since his daughter can’t take it.”
I blinked. Looked at Loren again, who appeared confused as fuck. I blinked again. Looked at Nadia, as I tried to process this. Married to Charles’ daughter? I didn’t even know Charles had a fucking daughter. God. This had my father’s name written all over it. I wasn’t even going to try to understand his reasoning behind pulling this shit. I’d stopped trying to understand anything he did long ago. When I turned fourteen, he started whoring me out. Only to women, and according to him, I should’ve been grateful I was getting laid by beautiful, experienced women in the first place. I couldn’t lie. I may have seen it that way once or twice, but using your body as your weapon, against your will gets exhausting and starts to make you feel dirty, even if you’re a horny teenager. It was all he ever did with me, use me as a pawn in his sick game of human Twister. At the time, I thought, better me than my sisters. I still felt that way. I would’ve had to kill him if he ever did that to them.
