23. Chapter Twenty-Three

My brother's property is bigger than mine, and forty-five minutes away. He takes pride in his lush lawn and plants the gardeners work tirelessly to keep green in this awful dry heat. If he's so concerned, he should move back to California, where he lived for many years. Get a house by the beach and enjoy the weather and views he truly loves. He could go back to working with Uncle Tommaso like he did for a while when he and dad got into some big fight I know nothing about.

"Good evening, Mr. Bramante." Harris, one of Elio's guards, greets me as I reach the door. The moment I open it, I'm met with the scent of fresh dough and herbs. I make my way through the house, following the deep voices to the study around the corner.

"Look who it is," Marco calls out with a giant grin, lifting his glass in the air. Elio looks up, a small smile playing on his lips. They're sitting in a small conversation pit off to the side. The study is decorated in all dark wood and red. Not my style, but it suits Elio well.

The three of us rarely do Sunday dinner anymore, and when we attempt to, something always comes up. We should really take it more seriously. It's been a tradition in our family for generations. It's bullshit we let it slip only because our father doesn't know any better.

Marco pulls me into a hug when I reach him. He smells heavily like alcohol, so he must've been here for a while.

Elio and Marco have always been closer as they're closer in age. I'm the baby. Piccolino, as they call me. The one who was never included in anything because I was too little. Now, I'm bigger than the both of them and enjoy throwing it in their faces whenever the opportunity arises. Which isn't often, since we hardly joke with one another anymore.

"Nice to see you, Marco," I say. I step away and share a hug with our oldest brother.

"Didn't think you would show," he remarks.

I gesture to the bottle of bourbon on the table between the seats they were in. Elio pours me a glass.

"I've things to discuss," I say, taking the glass.

"So I've heard," Elio answers.

Marco rolls his eyes, finishes his drink, and slides the glass to Elio, who fills it.

"Dinner will be done shortly," Elio explains. "We can talk as we eat. For now…" He lifts his glass and grins. "We drink."

"We need a plan," I repeat for the third time. They both keep dodging it when I say it, going off on their own conversations about other shit. "This isn't going away."

Elio sighs, staring at his empty glass like he hopes it'll fill itself.

"What do we do then?" Marco asks, looking between me and our brother.

"Papa isn't in the right mind to hand this down to us. If anyone finds out what's going on, we're open for the taking," Elio says.

"Which we will not let happen," I add.

"Right," Marco says with a nod.

"We can't tell them, can't let them find out, so what? Forge something? Hope Papa has a good day and can make an announcement?" Elio questions, though I know he doesn't expect us to do either of those things. He's smart enough to know it won't work.

I shake my head. "I don't think that's the right route either. This will get out eventually. They'll think us weak for hiding it for so long, for not handling it when we first knew about it. We're going to lose the other families' trust and that's the problem."

"They're already hinting at something." Elio grabs the decanter and fills his glass again.

I point at him. "Exactly what I got from Gaetano too."

"So we fight back. They come at us, we go right back at them." Marco shrugs.

"That's not the right move, Marco." Elio shakes his head and adds, "We're powerful, but their numbers are higher. They could easily take us out, one location at a time or all at once. We can't risk it."

"We're running out of time," I say. "But I had a thought."

I'd stayed awake most of the night considering this, trying to decide if it was the right thing to do. It's not an answer, not a solution, but it could buy us some time. I'm not sure what else we have.

My brothers look at me expectantly, and I reach for my glass before draining the contents. Elio is right there, filling it up.

"The last meeting Papa went to, he made them aware he was considering retirement within the next five years. He talked about family and leaving his empire to one of his sons. Everyone was aware of this."

"Yeah, and then he stopped showing up, causing them to think he's given up already."

"That doesn't matter though. We need to show them we are taking it seriously. Behind the scenes we've been working on what Papa wanted for our family, to show we're working with him, beside him, with his same thought process, and not just shutting him out and planning to overthrow him or fuck anyone else over."

"How do we do that?" Marco questions, swirling his cup and the bit of alcohol that's left inside.

"By doing what Papa said. Family. We need wives. Children. Our line needs to continue on."

Marco flinches and quickly shoots back the contents of his glass, immediately filling it again. We've gone through an entire bottle so far, which is why we've moved onto the infinity decanter. Something Elio has been working on for quite some time.

Elio chews on the inside of his lip, staring out the window, mulling over what I've said.

It's quiet for a few moments.

"It could buy us some time," Elio says. "Not much, but maybe a little if we were transparent about it."

"Doesn't help with Papa's problem," Marco adds.

I shake my head. "It doesn't, but maybe if we get a suitable nurse in his house to handle him, we'll know when he has a good day and can have the conversation with him."

"Bianca is suitable," Elio growls.

Well, that's a bit of temper I wasn't expecting. I narrow my eyes, wondering why he's so concerned with Bianca.

"Besides the fact he only gets his hands on his phone when she's working and none of the other nurses," I quip back.

"Bianca stays. Non-negotiable."

I don't bother arguing about it. He took the responsibility of handling Papa's care, what he needs for services, keeping this all quiet, his staff, whatever he needs. He isn't doing a terrible job. I think he's growing soft in his old age and not wanting to put women out on the streets. I don't like it.

"So we're going on the hunt for wives?" Marco questions. "In hopes it'll show the other families we're following through with Amadeo's wishes, so they'll understand and accept the transition?"

The annoyance is dripping from his words. He doesn't agree with this. But Marco is the least stubborn of all. He'll agree just to stop talking about it.

Elio gives a half shrug, shaking his head. "I suppose it's a start. Down the right road, at least. Papa wasn't the only one who commented about us not building families. Though they don't give a shit about us, they'll respect the fact we're making this decision."

I reach for my glass, staring at the liquid and bringing it to my lips. "I've already found one," I admit.

"What?" Marco barks out, while Elio gives me a what the hell? look. "Who?" Marco continues. "How? And better yet, when?"

"Matteo Delise's daughter," I say. "Recently."

"Little Jordan? She's young enough to be your daughter." Marco barks out a laugh.

"So?" I say seriously, pinning him with a glare.

"I need details, Piccolino. Tell me how this happened," Marco says humorously.

"It's simple. Matteo owed money. He couldn't pay. So I took Jordan."

"Wasn't she with the Canvani boy?" Elio asks carefully.

I nod. "The twit was fucking anything that could walk. She found out. Broke it off."

"Oof," Marco says. "So…"

"So I handled it," I grit out, not appreciating the fifth degree from Marco.

"And when's the big day?" Marco asks. "Do I get to be the best man? Please tell me it's me. You can't pick this surly fuck." He points to Elio, who's staring at Marco like he wants to pummel him.

"There won't be an actual wedding, sfigato," I say. "She's not thrilled to be in this position. She's being difficult."

"Those Delises are spicy," Marco says through another bout of laughter. I'm glad he can find humor in this. I guess it's better than fighting me on it.

My phone rings, and when I pull it from my pocket, I see Antonio's name on the screen. I frown, knowing this isn't good. I left him back at the house to keep an eye on Jordan while Rocco came with me. What did my sweet angel get into?

"We've got a problem, boss," he says the moment the call is answered, his hint of humor settling my riled up nerves.

"What?"

"The girl is destroying the house."

"Excuse me?"

"She's having a bit of a meltdown." His words are strained as he holds back his laugh. All I feel is anger.

"Elaborate," I grit out, getting to my feet.

"I don't know what set her off. One minute she's in the kitchen looking for a snack, the next minute she's destroying the whole place."

"Well, have you stopped her?"

"Didn't want to put hands on her, boss. Not without your say so."

"Do what you have to," I growl and end the call.

Marco is watching me with a smirk, while Elio has a raised brow.

"Problems in paradise already?" Marco asks with a knowing grin.

"I have to go." I tuck my phone into my pocket. "Sunday dinner is at my house next week. Don't be late."