Dante (11 page)

Silently, she mouthed, “Kiss your bride, Dante.”

It was time for him to shock her for once, he decided.

She played along the entire day without a single fuss. Unusual for Catrina, to say the least. He was grateful she let the day go smoothly for them both.

Catrina stepped closer to Dante as he reached for her veil. He flipped the sheer fabric over her head with the rest of it, cupped her jaw in his firm hold, and kissed her hard. Catrina’s eyes flew wide, her fingers wrapping around his wrists.

She didn’t try to move away from the kiss, though. No, instead he felt her lips twist with a smile before they parted just enough to let his tongue spear into the heat of her mouth. She kissed him back as applause began to echo through the church and the priest presented them to the guests.

As Dante pulled away from Catrina, keeping his gaze locked on hers, she still held tight to his wrists.

The clapping continued.

It was done.

• • •

“Time to fill the seats,” Antony said quietly.

Dante caught both his brothers staring at him while they sipped from balloon glasses half-filled with cognac. “There’s no seats to fill.”

Not in the Marcello Cosa Nostra, anyway. All their important seats were filled—
caporegimes
included. Filling seats meant giving a man his button, turning him into a made man for
la famiglia
.

“There’s going to be,” Antony replied vaguely.

“Here, tonight?” Dante gave a pointed nod to the guests wandering from room to room, celebrating the private affair of the final Marcello brother’s wedding.

Antony nodded. “Here. Ten minutes, my office. Let the men know.”

Without another word, Dante’s father moved back into the crowd of guests.

“You have to empty a seat to fill it,” Giovanni said at Dante’s left.

“As far as I know, we don’t have a rat needing smoked out,” Lucian added quietly. “I would know if we did. And I can’t see him making a mess Cecelia might have to see if he knows something I don’t.”

“Maybe he’s opening a new seat for someone,” Dante suggested. “Though I should have been told, given the fact I’m acting boss.”

Lucian shook his head. “No, there’s only been a few prospective men we’re watching for the button. The floor hasn’t even been opened for nominations, either. Something’s off.”

Giovanni sighed, clearly annoyed. “I hate it when he does shit like this.”

Dante did as well. He was Antony’s fucking underboss who should have been made aware if a change was happening or the floor was opening to nominations. Instead, his father acted as if Dante didn’t share any power in their family at all and had no right to be let in on the man’s plans.

He was getting sick of it.

Quickly, Dante surveyed the guests in his vicinity. He supposed it made sense for Antony to do something tonight, considering all the made men in their family had been invited to the wedding. Not to mention, they had come to celebrate at the Marcello mansion, too. Really, it didn’t matter when it happened. If the floor was opened, and seats needed filled, the men had to show up where they were ordered to and on time regardless of what was going on at that current moment.

It was a rule. One they would die for breaking.

Dante reminded himself silently that he too had to follow those rules the same as everyone else. That included trusting his father’s choices and motives whether he knew what Antony’s plans were or not.

“We don’t question a boss,” Dante said. He wanted to get his brothers out of their thoughts and into the place they needed to be for whatever was about to happen. “Let the men know a seat needs filled. Eight minutes, now. Do not keep Antony waiting.”

Lucian and Gio broke away from Dante, not needing to be told again. Dante weaved through the guests enjoying the food and specialty desserts to find where his new wife might be. He found Catrina on the makeshift dancefloor, twirling a little girl Dante recognized as being the daughter of one of his father’s capos.

Catrina looked happy enough with the child’s hands in hers, swaying to the music pumping out of the sound system. It was supposed to be a night for her to enjoy, even if their marriage was one giant charade, and he hated to interrupt her fun just so he could disappear.

It didn’t matter. He couldn’t get off unnoticed as Catrina caught his eye. She winked, nodding her head for him to come over.

“Have you met Mr. Marcello?” Catrina asked the child when Dante came to stand at his wife’s side.

“No,” said the little girl.

She looked scared staring up at Dante, for whatever reason.

“Oh, don’t be frightened of him,” Catrina said, waving at her husband. She picked the little girl up so she could be eye-level with Dante. “He’s like a fluffy kitten.”

Fluffy kitten
?

“And he doesn’t even have claws,” Catrina added in a whisper.

For Christ’s sake.

“I am not a—”

“
Stata Zeet, bello
,” Catrina said, effectively telling him to shut up while giving him a sly smile. “It’s her first time coming here. She’s nervous because the house is so large and she doesn’t know anyone. Say hello.”

Dante felt more uncomfortable by the minute because the child seemed frightened of him. “Hello.”

A wide grin broke out across the child’s face. “Hi! I’m Catie.”

Dante should have figured that. “Cat, don’t go teaching this child your tricks because she shares a similar name to you. Not every cat needs claws,
bella
.”

“Better they do have them,” Cat quipped. She set the child to the floor and ushered her off with a few other children dressed up and dancing. “I haven’t seen you, Dante. We need to dance, you know.”

“We can do that in a while, if you want.”

He didn’t mind indulging Catrina, whatever her schemes were.

She gestured at the people. “It’s a wedding reception. You have to do the customs. At least your mother managed to wrangle you in to cut the cake. Smile and bear it.”

“In a while,” he repeated. “I have something to take care of and need to disappear for a bit. Will you be fine alone, or do you need someone to ward off the wolves?”

Catrina laughed in that way of hers. Confident and airless at the same time. It was no wonder she could catch a man’s eye with barely any effort at all. The woman had perfected her web. “Do you think I need someone to ward them off?”

“No, but I thought I should ask. Has my mother made an effort to chat with you tonight?”

“She did and it was awkward, as usual. Worry not. Go do your … business, is it?”

“A seat is opening. I don’t know whose.”

Catrina pursed her lips. “I feel like I should—”

“Not for something like this. That would never be acceptable,” Dante interjected, wanting to shut that thought down before Catrina settled on it.

God knew when this woman decided she wanted something, there was nothing that would stop her from taking it.

“You didn’t let me finish, Dante. You Italian men are all the same, always needing to get your words in before anyone else. I was going to say that I feel like I should tell you good luck or something. Seats only open when one is empty, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dante confirmed.

“As I said, then, good luck.”

Catrina reached out and gave Dante’s hand a soft squeeze before turning back to the children. It was an innocent enough action but it still turned him rigid on the spot, like his feet were made of cement.

A hand landed on Dante’s shoulder, breaking him from his daze.

“Let’s go,” he heard Lucian say behind him.

The two brothers made it to the third floor where Antony’s office resided in record time. Most of the men from downstairs who needed to be in the room were already there. Dante took his seat beside his father’s desk and Paulie was already sitting on the other side. Antony sat behind his desk at the head of the room, stoic and silent, twisting his signet family ring around his finger.

Slowly, the rest of the men trickled into the room, all wearing the same mask of confusion and curiosity. A few eyed one another suspiciously. Dante noted they all filed in on time by the end of it. Nobody said a word as the men leaned against walls, sat on the couch, and practically filled Antony’s office until there was little room to move.

Dante counted the made men of their family—thirty-eight including his father and his brothers. Nineteen of which were capos, the others were men who had earned their button for whatever reason.

Antony nodded at the still open office door. “Somebody close that. No need to bother the guests if this gets loud.”

“There a problem, Boss?” someone asked near the back of the room.

“Only if someone in here wants to make one,” Antony replied, seeming bored. “Close the damn door, I said.”

The door shut with a quiet click.

“Three seats are opening tonight,” Antony murmured, still twisting his ring.

Men shifted on their feet, quiet murmurs passing through the room. Again, some tossed wary glances at one another. It was never a good thing when full seats were emptied. It meant death because that was the only way someone left Cosa Nostra.

Unless …

Dante’s thought process shut off as he met Lucian’s gaze against the far wall. His older brother was a pillar of composure and coolness, as he usually was, but there was a bit of excitement behind his stare, too.

Holy shit.

Dante wasn’t ready for this, was he?

“Three seats, Boss? Didn’t know there was an issue to open them.”

“There isn’t,” Antony said. “It would be rude to stain my wife’s beautiful rugs with one of your blood. Cecelia would have a righteous fit. No, there isn’t an issue unless someone wants to make one. Does someone want to?”

Confirmative no’s echoed from the men.

“Good,” Antony murmured. He stood from his desk, pulling the signet ring from his index finger as he straightened. The piece of jewelry was placed to the desk with the utmost care. “Formally, to our Cosa Nostra, I step down as boss.”

Silence saturated the room with an invisible fog.

Antony crossed his arms over his chest, regarding the men with a softer stare than he usually sported. “The Commission will, of course, make the final decision in a few months’ time, but so long as my successor is an appropriate figure to fill my seat, there will be no problems.”

Dante couldn’t look at his father anymore. His heart was in his throat.

By Cosa Nostra rules, there was only one way for Dante to make it out of the room alive if he was nominated to be boss—which he knew he would be—and that was if no one else objected to his nomination. There had to be a damn good reason for someone to object. Personal issues, fighting, stealing, a debt owed, and so on. Anything at all that would prove him incapable of leading. Dante wracked his brain to come up with one problem he had caused.

If someone objected and the issue was founded, no one could help him. Not his brothers, or his father … no one.

That was Cosa Nostra rules. Made men lived by them and they died by them.

“If we take the time to consider this,” Antony said, gesturing at his ring on the desk, “… it shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you. It’s been a long time coming for me. I want to retire and I have made no secret of that fact. Before someone gets the idea to take my spot from me because I no longer want it, I’ve decided to give it up. Besides, this is a much more honorable way for me to go than having my wife bury me, yes?”

None of the men said a word in response. Joking about the death of their boss was dangerous business and not likely something one of them wanted to get caught up in. Dante recognized his father’s statement for what it was: testing the waters.

“A seat in our family is open, fill it,” Antony ordered.

Dante stiffened in his chair, realizing that would probably be his father’s last demand of his men. Well, in any real official capacity, anyway. Antony would always be a made man. He would always be bonded by blood and brotherhood to La Cosa Nostra. His legacy as one of the most ruthless and profitable mob bosses New York had ever seen would far surpass his life.

But it was still an end of something. His era, maybe. His reign, definitely.

Antony moved around his desk, patted Dante on the cheek as he passed, and left the office without a backward glance. He closed the door behind him as he went.

More silence saturated the space as the men absorbed what had just happened. Paulie and Dante, being the two highest ranking members under Antony, had the first pick of proposing a successor. They could not put forward themselves to take the spot, but they could give it to one another. Dante knew Paulie didn’t want his father’s seat—he never had. Beyond that, Paulie was older than Antony by a half of a decade. He was ready to spend his glory years with his wife, too, not running a criminal empire.

Paulie clipped off the end of a cigar he pulled from his suit jacket. He worked on lighting the cigar, letting everyone around him stew in their thoughts. Surely and quietly, like he was breaking bread to begin a meal, the consigliere said, “I nominate Dante Marcello.”