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Chapter Thirteen

Angelo

The room buzzes with tension, thick and palpable. I stand at the head of the table, Sophia next to me, her posture straight and composed. It’s the same table her father had ruled from—where decisions were made, lives were changed and power was consolidated. But today, it isn't Carlo Agostini holding the reins.

It’s his daughter.

I scan the faces of the men seated before us. These are the remnants of Carlo’s old guard, men who have served him loyally for years, and a few others who have risen in rank since his death.

Their expressions range from skeptical to outright hostile, especially Giuseppe Costa. Carlo’s former right-hand man has had his glare locked on Sophia the entire time, as though he can’t believe she has had the audacity to stand before him.

Costa has been working to turn the loyalty of the others into a weapon, spreading rumors and stoking their doubts. He thinks he can fracture the family, claim leadership by undermining Sophia before she can even take her place. Sophia stands tall, despite the weight of their scrutiny.

Her composure is admirable, but I can feel the tension in her stance. This isn’t just about taking on her father’s legacy. It’s about surviving in a world where people like Costa would rather see her dead than in charge.

I clear my throat, pulling everyone's attention back to me. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming. As many of you know, Carlo Agostini’s death left a gap in this family—a gap that needs to be filled.”

A murmur ripples through the room. I let it simmer for a moment before continuing. “That’s why I’ve called you here today. Sophia Agostini, his only heir, will be stepping into the role of don to lead this family.”

The murmuring stops. Silence falls heavily and all eyes turn to Sophia. Her chin lifts a little higher, her hazel-green eyes scanning the room as though daring anyone to challenge her. I can feel the tension rolling off her, but to her credit, she doesn’t flinch. She’s stronger than most would give her credit for.

Predictably, it’s Guiseppe who speaks first. He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “A woman can’t lead this family. You know that as well as I do, Castiglia. This isn’t the local PTA. This is the Cosa Nostra.”

The statement hangs in the air like a slap, and then I see the flicker of anger cross Sophia’s face. I had expected Guiseppe to make trouble—he’d been a thorn in our side since Carlo’s death in every way, quietly gathering his own supporters. He sees himself as the rightful successor, despite having no real claim to the family.

“I don’t take orders from women,” Guiseppe adds, his voice dripping with disdain. “Besides, this family needs a leader who understands how to handle power, not someone who’s spent her life running from it.”

The room is silent and all eyes shift to Sophia. I see the anger flash in her eyes, but she keeps her composure, her chin lifting a fraction as she faces the room. I note the flaring of her nostrils that indicates that she’s breathing hard, but she looks steely, composed and dangerous. I feel a frisson of lust shiver over my skin.

“I may not have been raised in this life,” she says, her voice clear and strong, “but I was born into it. And I have every intention of protecting the family my father built. That’s more than I can say for those who’ve been trying to tear it apart from within.”

Her gaze lands on Guiseppe, and the tension in the room thickens.

“You think you deserve to lead because you’re the son of someone important?” she asks, her tone sharp. “Or because you’ve been spreading whispers and turning the men against me behind closed doors?”

A few of the men shift uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging uneasy glances. The truth of what Sophia has said is undeniable—Costa has been sowing discord for weeks, hoping to tip the balance in his favor. He has his followers, but not enough to make a direct move. Not yet.

Guiseppe’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t back down. He’s still a handsome man, although dissipation is starting to show around the edges. He reminds me of a rose that is just starting to fade from full glory, the brown of rot slowly curling the tips of the petals.

“A woman can’t lead this family,” he asserts. “You don’t have the experience. You don’t have the strength. You’ve been gone for years and you come back expecting us to bow to you because of your last name?”

I can feel Sophia’s muscles tense beside me, but before I can step in, she takes another step forward.

“Strength?” she echoes, her voice dangerously soft. “You think that’s what you have, Guiseppe? You think spreading lies and playing politics behind people’s backs makes you a strong leader?” She snorts and leans forward on the table. She yanks back the sleeve of the suit she wore to this meeting, pressing the delicate skin of her wrist forward.

“The Cosa Nostra might not respect women, but it respects one thing above all else: blood.” She nods sharply down at her exposed wrist, the blue veins standing out starkly as she stretches her wrist forward. “The blood flowing through my veins is the blood of royalty. I was born for this, forged for it even, and the blood flowing through my veins is a far greater claim than any you can ever press, Costa.”

Guiseppe’s face hardens, and his voice rises. “You don’t understand how power works.”

There is a beat of silence and then Andre, another one of the more powerful men in the family snorts, loud and derisive. “A woman leading us? Are you joking?” He stands, the scrape of his chair loud in the tense quiet. “This isn’t how things are done, Angelo. You think parading Carlo’s daughter in front of us is enough to keep this family together?”

“I’m not here because of tradition,” Sophia says, her voice clear. “I’m here because I was born to lead this family. My father built it and his blood runs through my veins. That makes me the rightful heir. And as long as I’m standing, no one will take this family from me.”

A few murmurs break out among the men, but Guiseppe’s smirk only widens. He turns to the men around the table, spreading his arms as if to say, do you believe this?

“Women don’t lead, Sophia. Women don’t command respect—they don’t inspire fear. Women belong…” he lets his words hang for a moment before continuing, his voice dripping with contempt. “…on their knees in front of their men. That’s where they serve. With their mouths open. or in the kitchen.”

Disgust and anger pull in my belly, and my palms ball into fists. It would be easy to pull out a gun and make sure Costa never utters another word again, but I agreed to play this her way.

“Not my wife, that woman cannot tell the difference between salt and baking soda. I think the bedroom is where they belong. To be seen, not heard,” another man says, and laughs.

A few of his loyalists snicker, but the rest of the men are quiet, eyes darting between Sophia and me. Guiseppe has crossed a line, and he knew it. But this is his play—to provoke, to insult her publicly. To make her lose control.

Before I can react, Sophia speaks.

“You're all so backward you belong in the stone age.” She shakes her head, walking straightening up.

She takes a step toward Guiseppe, meeting his eyes head-on. “It’s funny how men like you always seem so afraid of women who can do things. Is it because you know you’ll be crushed by us once you let us have our freedom?”

Guiseppe’s smirk falters for just a second, but he recovers quickly. “I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t take orders from women. And neither do the rest of us.”

“I take orders from women,” I say. “This organization depends on good leadership, no matter who offers it.”

Sophia’s eyes flash to mine, and she gives me a brief smile before turning away. “I’m not here to beg for your respect, Guiseppe. I’m here to take it. And if that means I have to teach you a lesson in humility, so be it.”

His sneer returns. “Humility? And how exactly are you going to teach me about that?”

“The old-fashioned way,” she replies smoothly. “You seem hell-bent on proving that I can’t do anything you can do. I seem to remember that my father used a very simple method to figure out who belonged in his inner circle. Surely you remember this,” she baits Costa, giving him a saucy wink.

I enjoy watching Costa squirm. Each time she brings up something from the past, something that only someone on the inside can know, it’s another nail in his coffin.

“We’ll engage in a contest. Outside. If I beat you, you’ll keep your mouth shut, follow orders, and accept my leadership. If you win, we’ll talk.”

Guiseppe’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn’t back down. “What kind of contest?”

“Shooting,” Sophia says, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “If you think you can handle a woman so easily, it should be no problem for you to beat me. After all, you’re all worried I can’t hold my own, that I’ll be dead weight. Let me show you otherwise. The men who were the best shots were always at the heart of my father’s inner circle. As someone who used to be his right-hand man, you should be able to prove that you earned the position fairly.”

The room is silent. I can see the calculation in Guiseppe’s eyes. He’s arrogant enough to believe he can win, but the challenge itself caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to push back, especially not like this.

After a moment, Guiseppe’s lips curl into a twisted smile. “Fine,” he says. “But don’t start crying when you lose, sweetheart.”

Sophia doesn’t react. “Lead the way,” she says, gesturing toward the door.

The sun hangs low as we step into the yard behind the estate, into a stretch of open space that Carlo had used for similar tests of loyalty. The tension follows us outside. It’s palpable as all the men file out to watch.

Guiseppe swaggers forward, his arrogance practically oozing off him as he grabs a handgun from one of the men. Sophia accepts her own without a word as I pass it to her, checking the weight in her hands as though she’s done this a hundred times. Maybe she has—there is still a lot about Sophia’s past she hasn’t shared with me.

“Put the targets on the wall,” Guiseppe barks, his voice full of swagger as the men set up the paper markers that indicate the silhouette of a person’s head and shoulders.

Sophia aims at the target, hefting the gun, shifting it in her hand, her focus never wavering. Guiseppe steps up beside her, still smirking. “Ladies first.”

Without missing a beat, Sophia fires. The shot drills right through the center of the head on the target. Before anyone can blink, she fires again, delivering another bullet to precisely the same spot. The silence that follows is deafening.

I see the flicker of doubt that crosses Guiseppe’s face, but he quickly masks it. “Not bad for a woman,” he mutters, lifting his gun.

He fires once, clipping the edge of the paper target. His face flushes as he readjusts, lining up for his second shot. This time, he hits the target near the center of the silhouette’s head.

“I believe the next phase was walking backward and shooting at the target,” Sophia says, and no sooner has she spoken, than she starts pacing backward. She delivers two more shots near the center of the target’s head, then glances over at Guiseppe.

“This is an excellent display,” he sneers. “How long did you have to practice to be able to put on this little show?”

Sophia laughs bitterly. “Oh, I assure you that this is not a party trick I have perfected. The life of a child of a great Cosa Nostra leader is rife with danger. I was raised to protect myself and I took the assignment very seriously. But you wouldn’t know about that, having come from a secondary family, and only having been in the wings of power your whole life."

I see the rage flare across his face before he manages to shove it away. He’s breathing hard as he starts walking backward, his nostrils pinched and his mouth a harsh line. I hear murmuring among the men at Sophia’s words.

Guiseppe’s first shot hits the target, but down by the shoulders. The next shot barely punctures the edge of the top of the head. He stares at the evidence of his poor marksmanship, something dangerous hiding in his dark eyes.

Sophia looks at Guiseppe with her arms crossed. She puts the safety back on and passes the handgun back to me. “Looks like you lost,” she says. “Seems that women can defend themselves, after all, if you let them have the training necessary to do so.”

She turns to look at the group of assembled men. “I dare anyone else to step up and show me that they can do better than me.”

There’s a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of Costa’s rough breathing.

She looks around at the gathering. “Come on now,” she baits them. “No one else wants to prove that women are only good for childbirth and blowjobs?”

The tension snaps back into the air, thicker than before. Guiseppe’s jaw clenches, but before he can say anything, I step forward. “A deal’s a deal, Costa. You lost. And now, you’ll respect her leadership or find your way out.”

Guiseppe glares at me. There is something dangerous behind his eyes. “This isn’t over, Angelo. You may have burned my crates and tried to shame me, but you haven’t won.”

The men shift uneasily. They all know about Costa’s smuggling operation—and they know I burned his shipment as retaliation for his attack on Luca. But Costa isn’t just angry about the money. This is personal now.

“I’ll tell you this once,” I say softly, stepping closer. “Talk about Sophia like that again, and I’ll make sure you leave here in pieces. Understood?”

Guiseppe’s sneer doesn’t disappear, but he gives a curt nod. He isn’t stupid. He knows the threat is real.

I turn back to the group. “Sophia Agostini is the leader of this family. And there’s one more thing.” I look at Sophia, a slight smile tugging at my lips. “We’re engaged. We are honoring the contract that my father and Carlo made years ago. They intended that we would bind our families and Sophia and I are honoring that demand.”

The shock ripples through the crowd like a wave. Guiseppe is the first to react, his voice filled with venom. “Engaged? This is all a power play, then. You’re using her to gain control of the Agostini family.”

“Say what you like,” I reply coolly. “But you’ll follow her, or you’ll deal with me.”

Sophia steps forward again, her voice steady and sharp. “We may be engaged, but don’t think for a second that our engagement is intended to thwart you, Guiseppe. This family is mine. You’ll either fall in line or fall off the map.”

Her words hang heavy in the air as Guiseppe turns on his heel and storms off, his followers reluctantly trailing after him. The rest of the men linger, their expressions worried as they process what just happened.

One by one, they nod in respect to Sophia, acknowledging her as the new leader.