Page 22 of Ivory Obsession
“Wants to be a housewife?”
“She’s a neuroscientist.”
“Cool,” Marco said, sipping on his espresso. “Do you need me to say anything else?”
“I’m serious about her being different,” I replied.
“Everyone’s different until they’re not,” Marco muttered, his voice laced with a warning that went beyond brotherly advice.
“Let’s talk business,” I suggested, eager to steer away from personal matters, at least for the moment. The Caruso situation was a thorn in our side, one that needed plucking with precision rather than brute force.
We leaned closer, our heads nearly touching as we poured over the details of our current predicament. Marco’s fingers drummed a rapid staccato on the tabletop, suggesting several aggressive moves that had been our father’s signature approach.
“Take the docks, cut the supply line, let them bleed until they come begging,” Marco listed, each suggestion punctuated by an assertive nod.
“Or,” I interjected, “we could play it smarter. Use their own desperation against them. Starve them out slowly, make them think it’s their idea to fold.”
Marco raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Since when did you become the patient one?”
“Since I realized rash decisions can lead to unnecessary wars,” I shot back, my tone firm but not unkind. This was the delicate dance we’d mastered over the years—pushing and pulling in our quest to keep the Moretti name revered and feared.
“Alright then, Mr. Calculated,” Marco conceded with a half-grin. “We’ll try it your way. But if it backfires, it’s on you.”
“It won’t,” I said, the confidence in my voice belying the unease that squirmed in my gut.
“I hope you’re sure. Be careful, Dante. Emotions make us vulnerable. Don’t let this… affection cloud your judgment.” Marco’s words cut through the clinking of glasses like a serrated blade.
I met his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Since when did you start spouting philosophy?” I quipped, but his concern gnawed at me. He was right, of course. The Moretti men weren’t known for their romantic escapades; we were bred for power, not love.
“Since I saw that look in your eye,” Marco returned sharply. “You’re too open around her, too...human.”
“Jade isn’t a threat,” I countered, my voice low, almost a whisper.
“Everyone is a threat, Dante. Everyone.” His tone was a stark reminder of our upbringing, the lessons drilled into us since we were kids.
A silent nod was all I offered in response, signaling the end of the conversation. We both knew better than to argue further in public.
As we stepped out into the crisp autumn night, the cool breeze of Little Italy brushed against my skin. I pondered Marco’s warnings while our father’s potential reaction to Jade loomed large in my thoughts.
“Father respects strength, Marco. Maybe he’ll see Jade’s intelligence as an asset,” I mused aloud, trying to sound more convinced than I felt.
“Or maybe he’ll see her as a distraction you can’t afford,” Marco shot back.
“Maybe,” I conceded.
“Let’s hope you’re right. For both our sakes,” Marco added, his voice tinged with the weight of our legacy.
“Let’s hope,” I echoed, my mind racing with possibilities—of a future where duty and desire didn’t collide like opposing forces on a battlefield.
We walked in silence, letting the sounds of the city fill the void between us. The occasional laugh from a passerby or the distant hum of traffic were mere background noise to the internal cacophony of my thoughts.
“Remember what we’re working towards,” Marco finally said, his voice cutting through my thoughts as we neared the sleek black car waiting at the curb. It was more than just a reminder—it was a warning.
I nodded, understanding the unspoken message. The Moretti family didn’t get where we were by being careless with our hearts or our business. “I know. I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I replied, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.
“Good.” Marco clapped me on the back, a gesture that was both reassuring and a little too hard to be just brotherly affection. “Just remember, big brother, keep your head in the game. Father taught us that.”
“And he is known for his wisdom.”