I set my fork down.“I still don’t understand why you trust me, though.”My gaze flicks between them.“I can’t imagine you got this far in building an empire by letting people in so easily.A little paranoia and distrust go a long way.”
Lorenzo swirls his wine.“Trusting my gut has never failed me.He tilts his glass toward me.“And my gut likes you.That’s enough for me.”
“Foolhardy,” I mutter under my breath.
“Why do you seem irritated by this?”Gio asks, bemused.“Do you want us notto trust you?”
“Yes!”I snap, exasperated.“Youshouldhave your guards up.Youshouldbe protective of your inner sanctum.Especially with everything going on right now.Ishouldn’tbe sitting here, at your table, in your house.What is wrong with you?”
Lorenzo and Gio exchange a look.
“You hear how strong her strange-ass accent just got?”Lorenzo asks him.
“Yeah,” Gio replies with a nod.“You think that means she’s pissed in all her languages?”
“You’re idiots.”
They laugh, shaking their heads like I’madorable.
“We trust you,” Lorenzo solidifies.“What are you gonna do about it?Betray us to teach us a lesson?”
Stefano has the right attitude.He doesn’t trust a bone in my body.And he shouldn’t.
Guess that’s whyhe’sthe boss.
A mischievous thought creeps in, one that might just wipe the smugness off their faces.
“So, tell me,” I start, leaning in.“How did Stefano become ‘the boss’ of you?What makeshisword the final word?Did he force you into submission?Make you bend the knee?”
They’re silent.A beat too long.Like I’ve hit a nerve.
And I bask in it, pleased with myself.
Gio and Lorenzo trade glances again.Then, almost in sync, both flick their gazes back to me, faint smiles on their lips.
Like they know exactly what I’m up to.
But I don’t surrender.
“Ournonnasuggested it.And it became law,” Lorenzo finally says.“That’s the short of it.”
“And the long of the short?”
Lorenzo leans back.“Nonnawas a gangster.In her heyday, she was dubbed ‘La Donna’—though she was never mafia.Self-made.Built her own illegitimate empire from the ground up.A brilliant and ruthless businesswoman.Respected and feared.”
He lets that settle before continuing.“She had two sons by two different men.Neither wanted anything to do with her business, crime-shy, so she cut them off.One of them went on to become a famous poker player.The other—ourpapa—he just did his own thing.”
He twirls his wine glass between his fingers.“Later, Nonna set her sights on us.We hated her at first.Shied away from her, because she was too intense.Brutally harsh, rigidly strict, terrifying.And we just wanted to be boys.ButPapa—who, by then, had perfected the art of failing at every business venture—urged us to be obedient to her.To earn into her good graces and learn all we could from her.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.“We didn’t understand why at the time.The woman was so damn cold and stern.No warmth or patience.But we listened to Papa, behaved and let her sink her claws into us.”He chuckles again as he stares unseeingly into his wine glass.“Oh, man, that crazy fucking woman.Nonnaownedus.Bossed us around.Made us watch CNBC forhours.Had us pick fights with other kids.Had us commit petty crimes.Made us compete on who could lie and bluff the best.Made us play all kinds of strange ‘games’ with rules she created, then randomly changed those rules, just to see how we’d react.’
Gio chuckles, too.“Yeah.Nonnawas batshit.”
Lorenzo continues, “In time, both her sons died before her—heart attacks, two weeks apart.”His voice dips slightly, the weight of it settling.“After that, Nonna became even more involved in our lives.Stricter, impatient, aggressive.Everything with her felt urgent.She was always yelling at us, ‘you have too much to learn, and I do not have the time.Learn faster!’It’s like sheneededus.”
He pauses to take a sip of wine, his gaze casted downward, as though he’s lost in the memory.“Nonnastarted taking us to her meetings.And we had one job—sit, be quiet, observe.Afterward, she’d grill us, demanding our individual opinions on the meeting, our assessments of everyonein the room.And we never knew if we gave the right answers or not, because she neither praised us or criticized us.It just always felt like…like we were being auditioned for something.”
Lorenzo glances at Gio, as if silently asking if he felt the same.
