I leave Leo to finish his waffles and go back to my office to work through some paperwork. We are bringing in new blood, most of which are fresh soldiers from Italy that Sebastian and I spotted when we were there a year ago. New York is new for them, so their onboarding and training has to be thorough before we let them out in the field. Nico is also a new member of our team and currently shadowing Sebastian while he is in Sicily. He is a great addition, and we hope by broadening our search for quality soldiers throughout Italy that we find more men like him.

We have high expectations, and get the fittest and fastest men we can. They also need to be trained in not only family dynamics and all the players both in New York and Sicily, but they need to know every street, every building, every sidewalk of New York and who owns them before they start their first day with us. They will begin with me in the coming weeks, their first posting here at the compound, where they will shadow our teams before doing solo days to get their bearings.

Sitting back in my office chair, I crack my neck and lean my head back against the cool leather, my mind once again wandering to Little Red down the hall. What the hell am I going to do with her?

My cell rings, startling me from my thoughts, and I see my ex-wife's name on the screen. If I thought I was stressed before, my stress levels increase tenfold the minute I see her name. It has been a few months since she’s last called, so it is unexpected, to say the least. Last I spoke with her, she was still high as a kite, full of a toxic mixture of alcohol and drugs, slurring her words about wanting to see my son.

“Angelina,” I grit out as I answer. My blood boils at the very mention of her name passing my lips. She is not worthy of the air I exhale while talking to her.

“Dante.” I am surprised to hear her sounding clear for a change, but I know the truth of her current state will become more apparent the longer she speaks.

“What do you want?”

“I want to see Leo,” she says simply, like she has a right to see him. Like she has forgotten that she gave up that right years ago.

“No.”

“He is my son. You cannot keep him from me.” As predicted, I can hear the tremor in her voice and the slight slur of her words, telling me that drugs or alcohol are still in her system, which only infuriates me further.