Page 18 of Bad Bishop

I sauntered painfully slowly just to piss everyone off before sprawling on the recliner opposite him.

“Do you enjoy making people wanna bash their heads against the wall?” Achilles seethed.

“Of course,” I answered matter-of-factly. That he’d even ask was disconcerting.

“Let me start by saying nothing we’ll discuss here will ever leave this room.” Don Vello stood up, limping toward a drink cart with his cane. “If I hear you as much as breathed about it to anyone else, I’ll make sure to kill your entire family in front of you before slaughtering you. That includes your father and siblings, who kindly grace us with their presence today.”

His words, calm and deadly, brushed right past me. He plucked two small glasses and a bottle of Amaro del Capo from a mini freezer, returning to his seat and setting the glasses in front of us. His knees gave out, buckling him back into the seat. His fingers trembled against the bottle of liquor. I wasn’t about to offer him help. I wouldn’t piss on a Ferrante if one was on fire. It was a matter of principle.

Vello filled the glasses halfway. I snapped my fingers and motioned upward.

“Keep going. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need it.”

He filled my cup until the liquid sloshed over. I picked it up and downed it in one gulp, slamming it against the table. “Why am I here?”

“Lila is pregnant,” he announced, reaching for an engraved box. He produced a Cuban cigar, ran it under his nose, and bit off the tip with a scowl.

“I see.” I ran my tongue across my teeth, considering the information. “Who the fuck is Lila?”

Whoever she was, I hadn’t done the impregnating. I’d sampled my fair share of Camorra princesses, but never in the traditional, baby-making ways.

“Raffaella. Lila. Mydaughter.” Vello’s molars ground into dust.

Ah. Raffaella. The youngest. Mentally three, the lads at the poker tables whispered. Which still put her a few dozen IQ points above Enzo.

“Congratulations?” I yawned.

“Che idiota.” Achilles scrubbed his face with his hand.

“That’s a bit harsh.” I tsked. “She’s your sister, after all.”

The taunt made Achilles bulldoze in my direction. Fintan lunged to his feet, blocking his way to me.

“Another move toward my brother and you’ll be God’s problem.”

“Sit your ass down, Fintan. You’re not even a made man.” Luca’s voice dripped in disdain.

I toyed with the ring on my pinky, still annoyed I left a perfectly poured pint of Guinness for this shit.

“Lila was raped during Luca’s wedding,” Vello provided.

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. Mrs. Ferrante let out a strangled sob. Fuck’s sake. Was there a bottom line to all of this?

And then Vello stared at me in a way that indicated the bottom line might be thatIdid the raping.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve very few red lines, but raping children is one of them.” I tapped my pinky ring. “Besides, I only do blowies and anal. Less chance of giving the woman an orgasm.”

Vello screwed his fingers into his eye sockets. Luca stared at the ceiling. Enzo looked like he was about to hurl his knife straight between my eyes.

“I pray for your soul,” Chiara muttered.

“Don’t have one, but cheers.”

“Actually, the fact most people in the underworld would believe you’re a child rapist is exactly why you’re here,” Achilles said.

“I already told you; you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“You’re not being blamed for anything, son,” Da clarified.