Page 40 of Vicious Secrets
Fabi’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror for a blink as he fixes his hair.
“Anyone who does not swear tonight will not walk away quietly,” I say under my breath. “Forget me. Protect Robyn. Do not let her fall back into Oscar Cesaro’s hands. Understood?”
“Understood.”
After thirty-two years of preparing for this title, I refuse to allow anyone to take it from me.
Robyn looks between us as we exit the car but doesn’t question the delay. Fabi walks behind us as we climb the front steps. I make a last-minute decision to wrap my arm around Robyn’s waist before we enter. My wife is a Queen—their Queen, and I want to make it clear she’s not a trophy, a statue, or a hanger-on. She casts a sideways glance in my direction as if she’s asking if I’m okay.
I pretend not to notice her eyebrows drawing together, her pursed lips, or her inward lean as we walk through the brightly lit foyer. Even with the lights on, the monochromatic brown color scheme keeps the house from feeling inviting or lived in. The gold chandeliers and crystal sconces don’t remove the chill my parents extrude.
The dull noise coming from the formal dining room drowns out our footsteps as we approach. Other bodyguards linger in the hallway and bow shallowly as we pass. Fabi mutters something to Robyn. She nods at him, and he steps away, likely going to scout out a vantage point to watch for my signal. Robyn squares her shoulders, tilts her chin up, and puts distance between our sides.
This shift into her act makes me instantly yearn for the real Robyn. The one who oozes confidence through subtle touches, gazes, and soft words—not meekness and icy stares. Her bravery and sincerity turn me on more than any well-fitting dress or peep of nudity. I’ve walked straight into countless battles, shootouts, and family rifts—none of that makes me brave. My courage will always pale in comparison to my wife’s.
Squeezing Robyn’s hip one last time, we enter the massive dining room that doubles as a conference room. My father sits at the head of the table meant for twenty-four. All of the men are in their seats, with their women standing behind them. The unmarried men brought their sisters or cousins.
A few of the wives stray from their husbands to speak with each other, including my mother. She hovers near the middle of the table and talks with the Denver Underboss’ sister. Tonight isn’t a party or a festivity. But that clearly doesn’t stop my mother from toeing the line.
“The boss is always last.” Father’s voice has a laughing tone, but the plain look on his face doesn’t match.
All of the heads in the room swivel in my direction as I take a seat at the opposite end of the table instead of my usual spot to Father’s right.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can make out the deep purple of Robyn’s dress as she stands behind me. My stomach tightens. Having her in the room but not directly in my line of sight leaves a distracting hole in my chest. I itch with the urge to turn to look or move her to sit on the arm of my chair. Hell, even having her hands on my shoulders while she stands might soothe this addiction craving.
Two months and I’ve already fallen for a woman I’ll never get to express my feelings for. A feeling that is not mutual and one my men could mistake as weakness. I could live with their snickering. I couldn’t live with pouring my heart out and having Robyn rebuke me.
My mother eyes my wife as she slowly takes her spot behind Father. Her dark eyes narrow as she pushes her shoulders back. Is she not ready to give up the crown?
“Gentlemen, January first marks the start of a new era for the Fedeltà. Consider this meeting a formal announcement of my retirement on December thirty-first.” Father’s voice rings out, bouncing off the wood floors and metal fixtures. “I asked you to bring your wives today to witness you re-swearing your oath before my successor, my son, Siro.”
I scan the Underbosses as my father speaks. A few of them raise their eyebrows or shift in their seats, but no one looks away from the Boss. On the other hand, the wives are a mixed bag of no reaction and soft smiles in Robyn’s direction. Except for my mother, who’s sizing up the other women in the room.
Spending energy trying to decipher what’s crawled up her ass is a waste of calories. Out of all the threats sitting around the table, she doesn’t crack the top twenty.
Several of these men will avoid taking the oath tonight as is their right. None of them have to swear to me until I take over in the new year. Their avoidance is my gain. It hints at what kind of damage to expect in the upcoming months and who Renzo might have on his side.
“The transition of power starts tonight. In the coming weeks, Siro will select his Consigliere and decide if the Underboss of Las Vegas remains a permanent position.”
Interesting. I never told my father I’m not keeping his pet rock Consigliere. Who does he think I’ll pick?
When it comes to choosing the man who will become my most trusted adviser, Viwasan obvious choice. But even before our fallout, he never showed an interest in moving out of a command role. At this point, I don’t have a clue who to pick. I’d consider almost anyone if it lowers the guns pointed in my direction.
Father places his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers, signaling the table is now mine.
“If you are prepared to swear before me today, rise now.” My voice booms through the room. Likely loud enough for the men in the hall to hear me clearly.
Wood scrapes against wood, combining into a singular sound as chairs push back. My Underbosses step off to the side and kneel down on one knee, their bodies facing me.
My father and I are the only men at the table.
A toothy smile contorts Father’s face as he looks over the empty chairs. With a gleam of pride in his eyes and his chin high, Father relaxes in his seat.
I do not share his emotion—externally or internally. The threat of Renzo’s plot grows by the minute. If all of them are willing to swear to me on a moment’s notice, what does he have? My uncle is a lot of things, but he’s not stupid enough to challenge half of the Underbosses, let alone all sixteen.
Robyn steps to the side as I rise to my feet. Pulling a deck of cards from my suit coat, I turn and hand them to her. A smile doesn’t grace her lips, and her posture remains stiff, but the flecks of green in her hazel eyes sparkle stronger than the gleam in my father’s eyes. She’s… Is she proud of me?
She takes the deck and walks off to hand out the cards to the women. The brief exchange between us makes me grow a foot taller. Even without the men kneeling, I’m one of the tallest in the room. Now I’m a giant amongst mortals. The newfound strength overpowers my concerns and makes my lungs expand to their fullest.
