Page 2 of Darkness and Duress
“Fuck you too.” The phone call ended. Thank God for the smallest of miracles. Knowing him, he pitched it in a fit of anger and our poor mother would be the one helping him replace it. Again.
My energy levels were depleted and the day had barely begun. With a mug of black coffee in hand, I returned to my bedroom, scowling at the bright sun streaming through the windows to fall in broad pools over the unmade bed and granite flooring. I had a nice place, courtesy of Pops owning the building, but that did little to improve my low mood. Very little did. I scooped the suit from the ground and set my coffee on the glass-topped nightstand to drag myself through the process of dressing. Honestly, all I really wanted to do was push the remote for the blinds and crawl back into the bed.
Half an hour and a full pot of coffee later, I was looking at the same view from my bedroom, but a couple floors higher. Lower Manhattan with Brooklyn in the distance, glittering under the morning sunlight. Pops’ office on the top floor got the best of the view. At least according to people who enjoyed that sort of thing. I used to be enamored with it. Now, I was exhausted by it.
“Marco, I'm glad you're here.” My father nodded toward the chairs in front of his desk.
“I'm always here, Pops. It's part of the job.” I slung my frame into the chair and slouched. “What's the list have on it for me today?”
“A small list, my son. Things are changing and we have a number of adjustments to make.”
My brow arched as I eyed my father, sitting upright with his steepled fingers and cool expression. This was Damiano in workmode, not Pops having a morning chat with his oldest son. There was a vast chasm between the two. “Understood. Lay it on me.”
“The alliance is still in tenuous shape, but we’re moving forward with our plans regardless. We need to establish shipping routes in north Jersey. As much as I want to keep you off the streets and out of the thick of it, we don't have much choice.” He shifted and tapped his chin with his fingertips. It was his biggest tell and I knew, before he even opened his mouth, I wouldn't like anything that spilled out of it.
“Your grandfather is getting older. So am I. Selene is graduating this summer, and Gianluca is moving to the Catskills to run smaller operations. With that being said, your mother and I have decided to take some time and establish ourselves in Italy. You’ll be taking on a larger role here.”
The clench of my jaw had my teeth instantly aching. He wanted me to step upnow? He'd kept me in a gilded cage since the day I stepped out of prison, but now that it was convenient for him, I would be taking on a larger role. Figures. I bit my tongue when he parted his lips to continue.
“I've also put together a team for you to help. They're skilled, aware of what we do, and already trusted. One will act as your driver. In the event the convoy is ever pulled over, you'll have more plausible deniability as a passenger. You meet with the new crew downstairs in an hour. They already have instructions for the day.” He leaned across his desk, plucked an index card from the side, and held it out to me. “That’ll be all.”
Wow. Talk about control. My irritation rose over the fact that, even as he stood on the cusp of handing over the stateside family operations, he still managed to keep me on a leash. A crewheselected? A fuckingdriver? Fuck me. We exchanged tense eye contact for a moment, as if he were daring me to say anything, but I knew better. With a clipped nod, I rose out of the chairand left. There was no sense arguing or discussing. Pops said his piece, so I had to make the best of it.
I almost considered escaping to kill the hour sulking, but my mom’s happy humming had me stopping short in the hallway outside the kitchen. Before I could stop myself, I slipped through the doorway and into her domain.
“Oh!” The delight in her voice chiseled away at my heart. I really needed to spend more time with her. I wanted to, genuinely. There was just a gaping distance between us to contend with since I got out of lock-up.
“Hey, Mama.” I milled in the entrance as my skin prickled. “How're you?”
“I’m wonderful. Come here.” She flounced around the island in her designer pantsuit looking all the part of a made man’s kept woman. Pops treated her well, that was for sure. Between the designer clothes, the regular salon appointments, and the tricked out kitchen we were currently standing in, she could want for nothing. Except more time with her sons, given how eagerly she rushed to capture me in her arms.
I folded her against my chest and let out a soft breath to relieve the tension. “You smell nice.”
“Coffee and crumb cake. Do you want some? Both are fresh.” Her tiny frame cinched tight around me.
“That would be nice. Thank you.” Neither of us seemed eager to release our hold, but eventually we pulled apart.
“Oh, my sweet Marco.” Her hand flattened on my chest with a fleeting smile. “You're dressed up today. Special occasion?”
“Just work. Same shit, different day.”
I watched as a host of emotions crossed her face before she turned away under the pretense of serving coffee and cake. I wasn't dumb—she might have known what she was getting into when she married Pops and had three kids with him, but I always had an inkling that it wasn't something that made herhappy. It took a rare breed of woman to raise a family in the mob.
“Please be careful.” The plate clinked against the granite counter in front of me with a little more force than she likely intended. “We need to get together for dinner. Just you and me. I'd like to talk to you about something—”
“You're moving. I know. Pops told me.” Retrieving a forkful of the fluffy white crumb cake, I held it before my mouth. “It'll be good for you both.”
Her eyes searched my face as I popped the forkful into my mouth and chewed, mindful to eat slow and steady. I'd picked up bad eating habits in prison and they always bothered her. Shoving food into my mouth as fast as possible was something I had to actively work to prevent when in her company for that reason.
“You're not upset? I had hoped to talk to you beforehand, but he beat me to it.” She pulled her mug closer and cradled it with her elbows resting on the counter.
“Mama, if it will make you happy, I'm happy.” I snuck my free hand over the distance and brushed the back of her hand with my fingertips. “Don't worry about me.”
“I'll always worry, Marc. You might be the oldest, but you'll always be my baby.” She slipped her hand free and captured mine in her grip. A tug at the corner of my mouth was matched by the subtle curve of her lips.
“Any idea when you will be leaving?” I gave into the urge and cut a massive chunk from the cake before cramming it into my mouth.
“Your father is hoping for August.” She squeezed my fingers again. “A long way off still.”