Page 12 of Meet Odin
As we approached the front door, it opened, revealing a butler. This was deja vu, and I felt like it was my first day at the Silent Syndicate all over again.
"May I get you gentleman anything while you wait?" he asked. We both declined. First rule of entering the enemy territory was don't drink or eat anything when you're only visiting for a meeting. I didn't know what Mr. De Angelis had said to arrange this appointment, but it wasn't an open invitation. This was business.
We were escorted into a grand foyer, and the butler scattered off to announce our presence. I took a look around as we waited. The foyer was nothing more than a series of connected arches that led further into the compound. As each arch met the next one, there were floral arrangements in different shades of red. The vases were real gold. I didn't need to look at them closely to know.. The walls had a fresco motif that extended to the arched ceiling. This screamed Italian Renaissance, but I wasn't impressed. It was gaudy as hell. If you have to show this much wealth to impress company, chances were good, you really didn't have it.
It wasn't long before the butler escorted us to Giuseppe Lombardo's office. The fireworks were about to begin.
***
"Atticus,towhatdowe owe the pleasure of this meeting?" Giuseppe Lombardo said. Giuseppe looked like the perfect stereotype of every Hollywood mafia movie. He was an older gentleman with black hair and gray sideburns. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, but there was enough of an accent to know that Italian was his first language. The only thing missing was the toothpick that he could pluck in between his teeth.
"It's no secret that you've been raided Giuseppe, and as you know, that comes with dire consequences," Mr. De Angelis retorted.
"An unfortunate event indeed."
"The other factions won't enlist you for new contracts, until you're no longer a liability."
"Yes, well, we're resilient," Giuseppe declared confidently. However, it didn't take much to see through the facade. The room reeked of fear. Giuseppe occupied a grand chair behind an expansive desk, flanked by guards on either side. His son, Lorenzo, was on my right side, while Lorenzo's son, Sergio, was on Mr. De Angelis' left side. Three more guards were at the back of the room. This was an unnecessary show of force.
"Time will tell, but that's not why we're here," Mr. De Angelis continued as if Giuseppe was just a spec on his shoe. "If you're going to come back from this, you need to reestablish your legitimacy. It doesn't matter that you're resilient as you put it. It will only matter how you move into the future."
Giuseppe tried to chuckle, but it turned into a dry cough.
This was like watching a ping pong match. Giuseppe would say something, and Mr. De Angelis would volley back. It would continue until someone lost the point, and then they would start again. I was only partially paying attention. I didn't care about all of the business logistics. I just wanted Serena.
The back-and-forth continued for an hour, before Giuseppe seceded. "What do you propose?" he asked. He was no match for Mr. De Angelis.
This was the moment I had anxiously waited for. It wasn't my place to say anything, but I started to watch Giuseppe's face closely for any clues that the meeting would turn sour.
"An arranged marriage."
"You don't participate in the practice," Giuseppe retorted, attempting to maintain his poker face. However, his neck had started to turn red, the color creeping up into his cheeks. If the old man wasn't careful, he'd blow a gasket. I didn't want to be the one to revive him.
"No, but you do. Consider it a sign of good faith," Mr. De Angelis countered, cool as a cucumber.
"In exchange for what?" Giuseppe's voice rose.
"The Deviants will provide the legitimacy that you desperately need right now. It will allow you time to clean house, sort of speak. In exchange, we will have first rights to fund any upcoming project of yours that we see fit at a five percent interest rate. Depending on the project, we may take an owner stake up to fifty-one percent," Mr. De Angelis said as he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair.
"So, you'd cherry pick a deal for controlling interest? I don't see how that would benefit us." The redness in Giuseppe's cheeks darkened.
"You're missing the point. You regain status in a world that doesn't want to have anything to do with you. At least, it won't be for awhile. In fact, most of them are waiting for you to implode, so they can rip your territory apart and claim pieces for themselves. I would."
"Why don't you?"
"I believe in long-term plans, goals…," Mr. De Angelis trailed off. "I can envision a future where having the Italian family is mutually beneficial. If I didn't, I'd be the first in line, challenging for your territory. Unlike the rest of them, I'd easily win. However, I will not offer you an unequal deal. Legitimacy is priceless."
Giuseppe shifted in his chair, clasping his fingers together so that they rested on his desk.
"Say I agree to this, what about the marriage?" he asked.
"Your granddaughter, Serena, to my Deviant, Dr. Odin Nystrom."
"Absolutely not!" Lorenzo, Serena's father exclaimed. Like me, he hadn't said anything either. It wasn't either of our places, but the apple didn't fall from the tree. Lorenzo was a young carbon copy of his father down to the graying sideburns.
Giuseppe raised his hand, silencing his son. "Serena is not available for marriage," he stated matter of factly.
"You don't have daughters. She's eighteen."
