Page 67 of Mafia King
“You’re such an old man.” He rolls his cigar on the edge of the ashtray. “All right. So fine. Get to the point. The flowers.”
Damiano leans back and crosses his arms, cigar between two fingers, with the face of a guy who’s been wronged and insulted over and over. He reminds me of a shark. If you don’t provoke a shark, they don’t bite. But if you do, and the shark thinks they can get away with it, you’ll bleed into the sea.
“You think I want to talk aboutflowers?” I ask as if I don’t know what he means.
“You got something to say to me, Santino? You think I’m not good enough to marry into your family? Just say it.”
“So Lucio over here can go back to Cosimo and tell him?”
“No, so I can send a fucking carrier pigeon. If I wanted my father to know, I’d pick up this thing here. It’s called a phone. What the fuck is going on with your wife? I thought she was mouthy, but knocking shit over?”
I know when I’m being provoked, even slightly, and talking about my wife like this is incitement. He wants me to lose my temper so he has the upper hand… not tonight, but tomorrow and the next day, when he tells everyone I’m too weak to think before I act.
“As far as you’re concerned, it was the wind,” I say. “And if you back out, you’ve insulted me, my uncle, and my cousin.”
“My money’s where it belongs.” He jabs his finger against the table so hard the knuckle bends. “I already bought a ring. A new one.”
He knows how my wedding went and that Violetta’s ring was Rosetta’s first. Another thing I regret.
“So there’s a deal. Unless you want out. Do you want out, Dami? I could get in your way if you do, but I won’t.”
For my wife’s sake, I hope he wants out. I’ll protect that decision from his own father and Gia’s. He taps his cigar, curls his mouth, looks around as if the answer’s written in lasers.
“What’s your problem?” I ask.
“Violetta was supposed to be mine.”
The possibility of this doesn’t scare me. She was never his. She was born to be mine.
“You were too slow, and Emilio meant for me to marry a daughter first. You were there.”
“You shoulda come to me,” he says.
“And if you had a problem, you should have brought it toIl Blocco.”
“No one knows where the fuck Corragio is!” He slams his hand on the table, breaking his cigar. “I was going through the channels the right way, and you…” He flings the cigar pieces into the ashtray. “You just dropped in like a fucking ghost and took her.”
“She’s mine. This is the end of it. She knocks down a vase of roses, kicks it, flings it into the sky, it’s my business.”
“I could tell them,” he says in a low growl. “All of them. One word that she’s inheriting the crown and every gray-haired old capo and every soldier with four whiskers on his chin is coming for you.”
“But you won’t.” I stand. This is over. “Not in front of your father.” I nod toward Lucio. “He’ll kill you for letting someone else in line before him.”
Damiano’s up like a shot. “And he’ll kill you for what you did to me.”
With his wide eyes and set shoulders, I can tell Damiano wants to hit me, and I wish I could let him try, but our business isn’t done.
“He may end my life,” I say. “But we both know he won’t lift his little finger for your sake.”
Before he can utter another threat, I leave. It’s the greatest favor I’ve ever done for him.
* * *
My wife waitsfor me in the bedroom like a child on Christmas morning, kneeling in the middle of our bed, nipples hardened to dark points in the white silk nightgown.
“Where’s Gia?” I ask, taking off my jacket.
“Her mother called. She went home.”
