Page 1 of Paolo DeLuca
Chapter one
“Ifuckinghatefunerals.”
Paolo stood in the rain next to his best friend and right-hand man, Dante Esposito, at his grandfather’s funeral. He didn’t like watching someone he loved being put in the ground, covered in dirt like they never mattered, and never be seen again. The shit made him claustrophobic thinking about it.
“We’re all going to miss him,” Dante stated, standing stoically beside him as they watched the man who’d taught them everything lowered into a hole in the ground. The greatest Don the DeLuca Famiglia had ever known was relegated to a fucking hole in the ground.
Anger coursed through Paolo’s veins as roses were tossed onto the casket as family member after family member paid their respects.
“Do we know the motherfucker who did this?” Paolo stared at the back of his cousin Enzo’s head, waiting for Dante to answer.
“We do.” Dante gave a curt nod. “I spoke with Vito briefly when we got here.”
Paolo clenched his free fist and held his umbrella tighter with his other hand, feeling the steel rod beneath his grip give way.
“And what the fuck are we gonna do about it?”
Dante turned to stare at him, but Paolo never took his eyes off Enzo. He would take Grandfather’s death the hardest. Enzo spent the most time with him, learning about the old ways—being groomed to lead. They all knew from an early age who would be the next Don of the DeLuca family.
“We show them who we are,” Dante finally answered, causing Paolo to pull his gaze away from his grieving cousin.
“Then I want in,” he said between gritted teeth. “Talk to Vito.”
Though Dante was not a DeLuca, he was family. He and Paolo grew up together. Dante spent more time at Paolo’s house than any of his blood cousins did. Over the years when Paolo and his father Antony went to Italy to visit the Don, Dante went with them. Dante’s father had been a made man and lived the same life they lived before he was gunned down. The DeLuca family was all Dante knew. He was famiglia.
Before he could get the words out, Dante shook his head. “I already have. The plan has been in motion since the day the Don was shot. You’re too late in the game. Plus, you need to be at the manor to help keep up appearances while they do what needs to be done.”
Paolo understood, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Family is always first. Always had been, always would be. He’d do what Enzo needed him to do. The dirt, well mud, filled most of the hole they’d lowered his grandfather in as he looked around to see the family dispersing back to the various cars parked around the cemetery.
“You know, I planned to visit next week,” Paolo said as they joined the crowd. He sighed as the rain continued its steady assault. “I had my flight crew getting ready for our trip here when I got the call about Grandfather.”
The things he wished he could’ve said. The things he could’ve done and would never get the chance thanks to the son of a bitch who thought it was wise to put a bullet into a DeLuca. Tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them back. It had been years since he cried about anything. He didn’t know if it was because his grandfather was gone or because he was so fucking angry. Crying was a sign of weakness. The DeLucas weren’t weak.
The sheets of rain fell like the skies had opened and mourned along with the family.
“Let me say my goodbye,” Paolo said to Dante, who nodded and headed back to their car.
Paolo took his steps toward Ermano DeLuca’s final resting place as the gravediggers shoveled dirt on the flower-laden casket.
