4. Simon

My father watches me from across his big executive desk, and I can tell he's not happy.

An antique clock ticks on the bookshelf to my right. The room smells like old library glue and whiskey. I used to love this place when I was a kid—I'd sneak in here and watch my father work all afternoon, and he'd let it happen, because I was the oldest boy. Which meant one day, I'd take over the entire Famiglia.

Now I'm thirty-three, and I'm not sure when that day's going to come.

"If we become the aggressors, we risk turning sentiment against us." Dad leans forward and I can tell he's in pain. He's always in pain—ever since getting shot, he hasn't been right.

Alessandro Bianco used to be a Titan of a man, a ruthless and clever mafioso who stood astride Chicago and made the whole city do his bidding, but now he's a ghost of that giant.

Now there's only pain and discomfort and arguments.

"Forget about what the cops and the politicians think. Santoro's been pushing onto our territory, and if we sit back and let it happen, every other would-be gangster from here to California will think they can have what's ours." I gesture at him, almost pleading for him to understand.

"You kidnapped one of his Capos. You cut off his ear."

I make a slicing motion with one hand. "Both ears, actually."

He rubs his temple. "We can't go around kidnapping and mutilating people. That is not how business is done."

"This isn't business, Dad. This is war, and you need to accept it. The peace is over. The lull is done. Things are getting hot again, and we can't pretend like they aren't."

He glares at me across the desk. There aren't many people in this organization that can talk like this to him, but it's not like he'll have his heir drowned in the lake.

Although being an heir doesn't mean much these days.

"Consult me next time," he says in the tone that means we're finished.

I push my chair back and stand. "If there's an opportunity, I'm not going to wait around for you to give me permission. I'm going to seize it."

"Then we're going to have a problem." He leans back and grimaces, his fingers rubbing at his back. "Damn it, Simon. I wish you'd just listen."

"And I wish you'd listen too." I turn away. "Mom wants everyone at the house for dinner later. Will you be there?"

"Of course I'll be there. And we're not discussing business at the table."

"Good." I walk to his office door but pause and look back at him. "How many pills did you take today?"

That only pisses him off. "Go away. I don't need my son acting like my fucking nurse."

I slip out into the hall. He won't answer because we both know it's too many. The pain isn't getting any better, but the drugs do less and less every week, which means he needs a consistently higher dose to get the same effect. Except at some point, that higher dose is going to kill him.

It's already ruining his mind. Alessandro Bianco used to be charming and outgoing, and he could remember anything. Now he's always pissed off and he constantly loses the thread of a simple conversation.

My sister Elena's waiting for me by the front door. She's petite with dark hair, the Bianco family nose, and my mother's soft good looks. "How's he doing today?"

"Better than usual, actually." She falls into step with me as we exit my father's work house. The block is quiet and shady, right in the heart of Chicago and not far from the lakes. We call this place the oasis, because it's like heaven in the middle of the city, our own little paradise. One end is blocked off to traffic by fake construction, and the other is tightly controlled by a rotating cast of guards and street toughs. Sniper's nests on the roofs, watching out for anyone that gets too close, and all the houses here are owned by the family.

"You two didn't fight too much?" Elena walks with her arms swinging free and her chin up. She's the damn embodiment of confidence with her hippieish dresses and her free spirit. Dad complains that she takes after her mother's side too much.

But I know that's mostly for show. Elena's got one of the sharpest, most ruthless minds of anyone in the family, and I respect and appreciate her input more than most people.

"He wants to go soft on Santoro yet again." I shake my head and stare off towards my brother Davide's house. "I don't understand it. I really don't."

"Nobody knows what actually happened between them," Elena says, following my gaze. "But you remember how Dad was after the whole Davide thing. He tried to rip the city apart, going after Santoro. But that was a long time ago, and hey, at least Davide's married now and happy, right?"

I grunt in reply. She's right, Davide's got a great wife in Stefania, but I still don't understand how Dad isn't more invested in destroying Santoro.

They used to be close. My father and his underboss, Luciano Santoro, were like brothers. Until one night, Santoro betrayed my father, took Davide as a captive, and ripped our lives to pieces in the process.

Santoro was like an uncle to me once. Now, all I want to do is hunt down his network and kill them, one at a time.

"Dad didn't like the whole ear thing." I grin at Elena. That was her idea; it was meant to send a message. We can get to you anytime, anywhere.

"No kidding. He's trying to deescalate while you're out there tossing gas on the fire."

"That's the problem. This whole war's getting hot whether I start clipping body parts or not." I pause on the sidewalk under the shade of a tree in between two houses designated as guest structures. They're for visiting friends, politicians, anyone that needs a place to stay. Entire houses, just sitting empty. I lower my voice. "He's not going to step down anytime soon, and I don't know how to convince him."

My sister runs a hand through her hair and touches her mouth. She's thinking, eyes squinting against the sun, and looking back at my father's work house. He's got an entire building for his day job, and another that he shares with my mother. We all have houses on this block.

"He keeps saying you need to be ready for the big responsibility of a Don, right? Then maybe you need to do something to show him you're ready."

I lean against the tree. "I've been thinking about trying something like that. But I don't know if it'll work. I feel like he's at the point where, even if he understands that he's not capable of staying Don through this war, he can't accept it. And he sure as hell can't act on it."

"Force his hand. Do what you have to do." My sister's eyes narrow. "You know you have my support. Davide would back you. I don't know about Laura or Angelo, but I can find out."

"It won't come to that." I stand up straight and stare into the branches. God, I can't believe it's come to this. I remember climbing this tree and my dad laughing as I got so high that the branches could barely support me. He was so damn proud that I got over my fear of heights, at least for a few minutes of freedom.

"What's the plan then, big brother?" She punches my arm. "Gonna just keep on going and hope Dad gets better?"

"No," I say, batting her away and slipping past. "You're right, I have to try something drastic. I have an idea, but I just—I didn't want to follow through with it."

"Want to be a little less vague?" Her eyebrows raise at me.

I let out a long breath. "It's what Dad's been saying all this time. He wants me to be more serious. He wants me to step up and prove I'm ready. Well, I can give him one thing he's been wanting for a long time. I can get married and start pumping out kids."

Elena stares at me then bursts out laughing. She pauses, doubled over, and slaps the hood of a random car. I'm not even sure who parked it there. I glare at her and wait until she's done.

"Are you kidding me? You, get married? Simon, your longest relationship is with your right hand. Don't stand there and tell me you're going to get married and have children."

I'm tempted to throw my shoe at her. "Davide did it."

"Dad forced him to, and it just happened to work out. Why do you think that'll happen for you?" She wipes tears from her eyes and slaps my shoulder. "Come on, think of something else. The marriage-and-kids thing is pretty good and Dad would like it, but it's not going to happen."

She walks off, still laughing to herself. I stop on the stoop of my house and glare at my sister, annoyed that she finds my idea so fucking funny, but I understand her reaction.

I've never been with a woman for more than a night. Why bother when my family name can get me any piece of ass in the city?

Things are different now. I'm not twenty-three anymore, and the Famiglia needs me to step the fuck up and do something about our situation. Dad's spiraling and the war with Santoro's coming, whether he likes it or not, and if getting married and having kids proves that I'm stable and ready for leadership, then I'll fucking do it.

And I already have the perfect girl in mind.