49. Angelo

Chapter 49

Angelo

S imon's office is warm and claustrophobic. He's got piles of boxes filled with files and folders and his fireplace is crackling. My brother stands going through documents and tossing half of them into the flames, the ashes gushing up through the chimney, up into the sky.

"A little spring cleaning," he says with a shrug. "Thanks for coming in."

"You need help with all this?" I gesture at the two-dozen boxes he still needs to go through.

"No, it's okay. I find it weirdly therapeutic. Most of this stuff was from Dad's day and it's all either outdated, completely wrong, or extremely incriminating."

"Why'd he keep the incriminating stuff?"

"Who knows. Arrogance? A bad filing system?" He tosses more paper into the fire. "I'm modernizing this fucking Famiglia whether it wants that or not. This just feels right, you know? I think it's time we really move on."

I head over to the bar cart and pour myself a drink. "Alright, if you don't want help burning our documents, what'd you need?"

"I wanted to talk about Cage." He closes a folder and walks over to his desk. He sinks down with a sigh. "You've been running it."

"Someone had to step up with Tommy gone."

"Income's been good. Rodrigo still sends me the statements." He gives me a sheepish smile. "Don't be mad at the poor guy."

I just shrug. "No worries," I tell him, since I'm the one that ordered Rodrigo to make sure Simon was kept in the loop.

"Look, I should have done this sooner, but things have been busy. But you are officially back in control of Club Cage, and I'm sorry I ever considered leaving it with Tommy. That was fucking stupid. I got distracted by money."

"Water under the bridge."

Simon nods at that, but doesn't seem convinced. "I know it's been hard since you got out of prison. But Claudia's been good. I'm glad you found her."

"I am too." More than he even knows. Without Claudia, I'm not sure where I'd be right now.

My revenge is over. Everyone that betrayed me is dead. But without a quest, without a reason to keep getting up in the morning, I'm not sure where I'd be right now.

Claudia's that reason. I open my eyes, and it's her. I close them, and she's in my dreams. We're working at Cage together, cooking dinner together, fucking like possessed teenagers together. And I'm showing no signs of getting bored, slowing down, or moving on.

Everything's for her now, and that's better than revenge.

"There are still some loose ends." Simon tilts his head from side to side, looking annoyed. "We got a lot of Tommy's network when he tried to make a break for it, but we didn't get everyone. There's still a small group of Serbians in the city somewhere and we need to make sure we find them."

"Think they'll be a problem?"

"Everyone and everything is a problem to the Don, but no, not in the grand scheme. I just want you to keep an eye out and see if you can finish them off."

"Giving me a new job now?"

"You're back in the fold, youngest brother. How's that feel?"

"Feels like I'm already tired of calling you Don."

Simon laughs and holds up his glass. "To the Bianco Famiglia."

"To the Famiglia."

We drink together. I think about my new job. It won't be easy, and it won't be safe, but it's important to the family. And I'm ready to start doing more.

I head outside, thinking about my future. There's Claudia, and children, and marriage, and a dozen happy mornings. There's also the Famiglia and power and death suffusing everything. But that's not so bad. Hell, maybe it's a good thing. I'm not really the kind of guy that can sit still for long, and running Cage doesn't take all my energy. Sooner or later, Claudia will be able to do that on her own.

Then who knows. Maybe another club? Maybe something bigger.

As I head back to my house, I slow down outside of Laura's place and stare up at the porch. My younger sister is sitting on a chair, her legs curled under her, and she's absolutely covered in dust. It looks like she's a ghost, it's so white, except for lines around her eyes and her face where she was wearing a mask and a pair of goggles.

"What the hell happened to you?" I ask, one foot up on the bottom of her porch steps.

She frowns at me. "Marble. I went overboard."

"I can see that. Making anything good? Wait, don't answer, I want you to surprise me."

She rolls her eyes, but that's not a no. "How'd your meeting with the Don go?"

"He made me the official ruler of Cage once again."

"About time. As if you weren't already."

"It's alright. I'm getting eased back into the fold."

Laura shrugs and brushes some dust off her sleeve. "I need a shower."

"I'm shocked you're outdoors, honestly. I thought you were agoraphobic."

"I'm not afraid." Her eyes narrow. "Just lazy."

"Then have you ever considered showing some of your work?" I mention it as casually as I can, but it's something I've been thinking a lot about lately. Laura's insanely talented, like professional-quality talented, except she keeps her work hidden in her basement and her back yard. I'm one of a very small number of people that even knows how incredibly beautiful her sculptures are.

"Showing? Absolutely not."

"Come on, this stuff deserves to be out in the world. And you just admitted that you're not afraid to go outside."

Her lips push together and her hands grip the arms of her chair. "Just because I'm not afraid doesn't mean I want to." She pushes herself to her feet.

"How can I convince you? Just one show for important people only. A small, intimate affair, hosted at Cage."

"Maybe if I could wear a mask. And everyone in attendance also wore a mask. Maybe then I'd consider it." She walks to her front door.

"Masks are easy. I can make that happen."

She pauses and looks back at me. "I wasn't serious."

"I'll put it together. We'll come up with a theme. Hell, you can be totally anonymous if you want. It'll be more fun that way."

"Angelo—"

"Elena will design the invites. You start putting together your mask." I wave to my sister and walk off. If she complains or tries to tell me off, I don't hear it.

She needs this. Laura can't stay hidden in that house of hers forever, and I'm the only one in the family that can get her to come out.

Back home, I find Claudia in the kitchen. She's got a glass of white wine, her hair up in a messy bun, a cropped sweatshirt on, and Fleetwood Mac's Rumors blares through the speaker system.

"I didn't know you liked this stuff," I say, giving her a kiss, and pouring myself a glass of wine.

"Sometimes I come back to the classics. Nothing beats a band hell-bent on fucking each other and writing songs about their breakups."

I lean against the island as she sings to herself. She's getting started on a simple red sauce and a big pot of water's waiting to be boiled. I smell onions, garlic, carrots, and celery, but mostly I smell her shampoo and the light whiff of perfume she spritzes every morning. I could stand here for ages, staring, feeling happier and more content than I've ever been before. There's lots of death behind me. Lots of prisons too.

But right now, the house feels big, and open, and free.

We'll fill it up eventually.