Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The men had a long and obnoxious stare-down like American wrestlers on TV.
Vincenzo drummed his fingertips on the top of the table, and it was so quiet that every tap sounded like a drum. “This is the part where you apologize then grovel and beg for forgiveness, and I mercifully consider it. But you’ve been silent far longer than I care for.”
Luigi Lombardi was older than Don Mancini, by at least ten years. He brought his hands together and interlocked his fingers on the surface of the old wooden table. “We’ve known each other a long time. You come from a good family, and you’re good people. But let’s be honest, the world has evolved, and you’ve failed to evolve with it.”
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Don Mancini asked.
I knew exactly what it meant—that he was too soft. That they didn’t admire that softness. That he wasn’t tough enough to be an ally in this brutal game.
“Vincenzo, let’s be real,” Lombardi said as he leaned forward. “The only reason you found those guns is because of that stray pit bull that wandered onto your property.” He glanced at me behind him before he looked at Don Mancini.
That was offensive to pit bulls—because they were a hell of a lot nicer than me.
“Not sure what you did to get him to join you, if I’m honest.”
I said nothing, knowing if I intervened, it would just make Don Mancini look weak.
But Vincenzo didn’t say anything, and since his back was to me, I didn’t have a clue what his face looked like.
I was sure he was pissed, though.
“Twenty years of friendship destroyed over money. That’s pathetic.” Vincenzo was the one to speak.
“If you were an equal partner, this relationship would progress rather than come to a halt,” Luigi said. “But this is how the world works, Vincenzo. The fittest survive.”
“You brought me all the way here to insult me?” Now, Don Mancini’s voice started to rise because his patience had officially expired.
“I brought you all the way here to make you an offer.”
I glanced at the men who flanked Luigi and glanced up at the gallery again, trying to determine exactly how this would play out when the conversation ended.
“An offer?” Don Mancini mocked. “Not sure what you can offer me at this point.”
“Let us absorb your business, your relationships, and your distribution partnerships, and we’ll let you continue your little winery like civilians.” Luigi wore a beige blazer with large black buttons along the side. An old-fashioned gold watch sat on his wrist, looking like it was several generations older than he was. Wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t even work. “We won’t part as friends, but we won’t part as enemies either.”
“My little winery?” Don Mancini said quietly. “The little winery that’s been in my family for generations? It’s little to you?”
Luigi kept his hands together and didn’t move. “Don’t take this personally. I wouldn’t make you this generous offer if I didn’t still have affection for you—”
“You can take your affection and shove it up your ass, Luigi.” He slammed his hand down hard and jumped up out of his chair, pushing it back and making it tip over. “I’m happy to show you just how soft we are.”
Elio left his chair and shared a look with Don Mancini, a silent conversation passing between them.
Leo slammed his hand on the table like his father, but he took it a step further by spitting right in Luigi’s face.
I smirked.
One of Luigi’s men lunged across the table and grabbed Leo by the neckline then slammed him down on the wood.
Then guns were drawn, one pressed right to Leo’s temple. All the bodyguards carried pistols, and up above, men with automatic rifles appeared, aiming their barrels down at us like those fish in a barrel.
“How does that saying go?” I said when Don Mancini was close to me. “I told you so.”
Don Mancini looked like he wanted to kill me even more than the asshole who had his son by the shirt, his gun pressed into Leo’s temple. Don Mancini turned back to Luigi. “This is who you are? I’d rather be soft than dishonorable.”
“And I’d rather be alive than dead.”
The guy slammed Leo to the table again and dug the tip of his barrel into his head.
His son was about to get his brains shot out, but Vincenzo managed to keep his calm.
“I’ll give you one more chance,” Luigi said. “Yield—or your son’s brains will stain our clothes.”
“I’d rather fucking die,” Leo said as he remained pinned to the table.
The guy slammed his head down again.
I was starting to like Leo.
Luigi continued to look at Don. “Yield—or your legacy dies with him.”
I didn’t really like Don Mancini at all, but no sane father would let his son be killed over business.