“You’re not boss yet, Salvatore. I decide, not you.”

“I already decided, old man. Let it be.”

“Franco,” Roman started.

My father kept his eyes on me, but listened.

“Let’s do this Salvatore’s way and end this. It’s grown too far out of proportion,” Roman said.

“And how do you propose to get Dominic to agree?” Franco asked.

That was where we were all at a loss. He couldn’t be given a property to manage, not as volatile as he was. He’d bring war wherever he went. He needed to be controlled, but I didn’t know how. I was truly at a loss when it came to Dominic.

“I will talk to him,” I said. I’d give him one more chance, talk to him like maybe I should have been talking to him all along. Maybe he’d have come to me five years ago when he was in trouble if I’d been a better brother to him.

By the time Dominic arrived, it was almost five o’clock in the morning. He stank of liquor and stumbled in making a lot of noise, propped up by two men who worked for my father.

“You called, brother?”

The lids of his eyes were drooping, and the bruises I’d given him earlier had colored a dark purple.

“Summoning me to your grand estate?” he said, slurring his words as he gestured around the house.

“Get him in the fucking shower.”

“I’ll make coffee,” Roman said.

Marco had also arrived in the meantime, and men were being arranged throughout the property. We had about two hours before everyone would get here. According to Roman, Pagani Sr., wasn’t surprised by the call, which meant he’d already talked to his son. Good. The less surprises, the better.

Isabella was a different story. Roman had spoken with her and told her the reason for the meeting. Maybe it was vanity, a feeling of being acknowledged as head of the DeMarco family, because for all intents and purposes, she was. We just underestimated the DeMarco family’s level of activity. It was stupid on our part. Isabella would be here bright and early, as anxious as me to put this behind her, now that she realized what she could have lost.

I had Dominic taken to a bedroom downstairs, knowing he’d raise hell wherever he was just because he was Dominic and he was piss drunk. Roman remained with my father while I went to check on Dominic’s progress.

“You’re not boss yet,” was the greeting he threw at me when I walked into the bedroom.

“You at least smell a little better,” I said, tossing one of my dress shirts at him. “Put this on.” I’d changed too, wearing a suit minus the jacket.

“You want me looking respectable for those assholes?” he asked, but he took it.

“I know about Effie,” I said, sitting down.