Page 138 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

T he Council began ten minutes later.

The room was like the rest of the house: dark mahogany paneling and subdued lighting.

All the dons from the other families were seated around two gigantic rectangular tables – one on the east side of the room, one on the west. Their consiglieres stood behind them, ready to whisper advice when needed.

Between the two tables was a twenty-foot gap, informally referred to as the ‘gauntlet’ – so called because of the old military punishment ‘running the gauntlet,’ where the accused had to run between two rows of soldiers, who beat him mercilessly as he passed.

‘Running the gauntlet’ in this room would not entail any physical beatings. Still, there would be plenty of verbal thrashings to go around.

At one end of the tables – to the north – Dario and my brothers sat in five chairs. I stood, like all the other consiglieres.

At the other end of the tables – forty feet away, to the south – Fausto sat in a chair as Sofia stood behind him.

The leaders of the Five Families sat together in the center of the east table. Don Severino was in the middle, with Vicari and Amato to his left and the Widow and Don Camerota of Milan to his right.

The Widow and Vicari were the only leaders present without consiglieres.

Severino opened with remarks welcoming everyone to Rome and explaining why we were there.

“Dario Rosolini, the Don of Florence and half of Tuscany, has accused his uncle, Fausto Rosolini, of a conspiracy to murder his entire family.

“Fausto Rosolini, the Don of the remainder of Tuscany, denies any such conspiracy and instead accuses Dario’s brother Massimo of murdering Fausto’s only son, Aurelio.

“Gentlemen, you may present your own arguments or appoint your consiglieres to speak for you.”

Dario spoke first. “I appoint my brother and consigliere Niccolo Rosolini to act on my behalf.”

Fausto spoke next. “And I appoint my consigliere, Sofia Toscani, to defend me against these ludicrous charges and prove the vicious murder of my son – ”

“Don Severino,” I interrupted loudly, “are you going to permit this grandstanding?”

“I am SPEAKING!” Fausto roared.

“Not any longer, you aren’t,” Severino snapped. “Leave your accusations to your consigliere… ”

Severino glared at me. “…and let us all practice at least a modicum of decorum.”

I bowed slightly at the neck to show I acceded to Don Severino’s wishes.

Fausto grumbled and snarled but didn’t say anything else.

“Niccolo… you’re up first.”

I walked between the tables as I spoke – taking time to look each mafia don in the eyes.

I took note of how they reacted: whether they smiled at me… gazed back at me neutrally… stared with smug defiance… or looked away in guilty avoidance.

I kept a mental tally of those who smiled. They were the ones on our side – and, unfortunately, the smallest number in the room.

I also kept track of the neutral ones, who might be swayed…

The defiant ones, who were mostly my family’s enemies…

Or the guilty ones, who had probably accepted bribes from Fausto.

The numbers weren’t good.

I laid out my case as succinctly as possible and retreated to Dario’s side.

Then Sofia walked out into the gauntlet.

Every eye in the room was on her.

She was a great curiosity – mostly because she was the first female consigliere in the history of the Cosa Nostra. But she was also quite beautiful, in her sexy librarian way.

Plenty of the old farts either sneered at her disapprovingly or leered at her. But none of them looked away.

Though the Widow was on our side, I detected a hint of approval on her face at Sofia’s performance – which was steady and clear, if rhetorically unspectacular.

But when you considered the fact that Sofia was a civilian speaking to a room full of mafiosos, murderers, and criminals, she did amazingly well. She never once betrayed a hint of nervousness.

When she finished, she went back to Fausto’s side.

Our eyes met across the room.

I bowed my head very slightly to her. Good job.

She narrowed her eyes at me. Don’t fucking condescend to me.

I smiled.

What a woman.

“Niccolo Rosolini,” Don Severino said, “you may call your first witness.”