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“To be with you,” he answers.

“Because your Dad sent you?”

Silence.

“To get me to break up with Gareth?” I guess.

“That was part of it,” he mumbles before looking up and exclaiming, “but he wasn’t right for you, Ches! I would’ve told you not to marry him anyway!”

“You mean like Elio is so right for me now?” I hiss at him and the poison that is coursing through my veins toxifying every good memory I have of my best friend pours into my words.

He is silent, once again. Guilt is woven through every feature of his face and I can tell his heart is breaking too. But he did this to us. He broke us. He betrayed me and ripped my soul out through my throat.

“Fuck you, Massimo,” I whisper.

Numb and barely registering the tears pouring down my face, the sobs heaving in my chest, I get up and walk away.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sandy

Two and a Half Years Ago

“Can someone tell me why I have beensummonedto this meeting?” Irritation masks an uncharacteristic thread of anxiety that I am carefully avoiding pulling. “Last time I looked I give the orders and you lot obey them.”

Eight Italian faces, the youngest in his forties, stare back at me from around the table. All dressed in expensive suits and with roughly the same haircut, the only real differences between one man and the next are age and the degree to which indulgence has taken a toll on their body.

My thread of anxiety would be more like a thick corded rope if not for the fact that the meeting is being held upstairs at the restaurant I own,La Fazenda, and I am sitting in my usual chair. The boss’ chair.

The private room above the restaurant is small and with so many of us crammed in the air is stifling. Trickles of sweat are running down the temples, necks, and backs of every man present.

Physical discomfort doesn’t appear to be the only kind of stress being experienced by those around the table either. Tension as thick as humidity right before the rain breaks blankets the room.

I seriously hope these fuckers aren’t about to do something stupid.

Some of them have gone soft in the years of relative peace we have had since I smacked back Alberto Romano twenty or so years ago. They have forgotten that power and peace must be actively defended. To take either for granted is often a fatal error.

“I haven’t got all fuckin’ day,” I bark when no one responds to me. “One of you spit it out.”

To my surprise, it is my oldest friend, Paul Rossi, who speaks up after clearing his throat and glancing around at the others. “Boss, the capos asked to meet with you today because they want to discuss your succession plan,” he begins.

“You’ve made it clear that Elio will take over when you retire…but the capos have come to me with some concerns about Elio’s…apparent disinterest in the family business and a keen interest in partying.”

Rage is my knee-jerk reaction. My succession plan is entirely up to me. I could hand over to Crocodile fuckin’ Dundee if I wanted to.

It is also unsettling to know that my men, supposedly loyal men who would die for me, are thinking so deeply about the world without me in it.

The problem is Paul isn’t wrong. Elio is probably the least suited of any of my children to lead theFamiglia. Giovanna is the most capable but is female. Matteo is soon to be released from prison after a four-year stint and Massimo is only 21 years old.

That leaves my oldest, least bloodthirsty son. He thinks I don’t know he avoids the more violent aspects of our work, but I know Giovanna and Matteo have covered for him ever since they were knee-high to grasshoppers.

But there is no fucking chance whatsoever that I will be succeeded by anyone other than one of my children. Ya fuckin’ dreamin’.

“Been discussing my demise, have you? Will I be retiring soon? Do share your insights…” I growl at the room.

“Come on mate. You and me, we’re turning 68 this year. The guys just want to be sure there is an ironclad plan for what happens when we no longer have you to lead theFamiglia,” Paul sweet-talks me, soothing me and my gripes as he has done for more than half a century.

“Elio will take over from me. It is my job - and yours - to ensure that he is ready and capable when the time comes,” I’m not telling them anything new and I get the feeling they have a lot more to say on the matter.