Page 92 of The Gangster King

DANTE

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I sip my scotch and stare out across the library as the first bird begins singing outside. It’s still dark. I don’t know what time it is.

I don’t care.

I couldn’t sleep even if I tried, so I didn’t bother lying down.

Adelina was supposed to be in my bed and if she’s not in there, neither am I.

This could be the alcohol talking.

I glance at the books, the leather lounge suite, and photos of my family on the wall. I’ve spent hundreds of hours in this room being lectured by my father, listening to him, learning from him.

I knew I’d be the one sitting in this large red leather armchair one day as the head of the family.

This early?

It was always a possibility, but I never expected it.

At best, I thought we had another ten or even thirty years. Hell, he was two years shy of his sixtieth birthday.

My mother has been in twice.

“Dante. Go to bed. You will work this out,” she said the first time, shaking her head at me when I told her to fuck off.

My father would have punched me for talking to her like that.

The second time, she was less compassionate.

“You know, maybe if you hadn’t kidnapped the girl.”

“Get out!” I yelled.

“You need to sleep. There will be consequences for last night and you need to sober up. You need to think clearly.”

I snorted.

What a fucking joke.

I see the blood staining Adelina’s drive in my mind and know she’s right. It was a message for her, her father, and the damn world.

Adelina is mine.

“She loves you. Just give her time,” Mama said.

That got my attention, so I’d leaned forward on my knees. “Say that again.”

Like a true mother, she walked across the room, not scared of my violent mood, and ran her hand through my hair.

“I said that girl loves you. She always has. Did you do anything except boss her around?” she asked.

A reasonable question.

“Did you ask her how she feels? Ask her what her dreams are?”

More good questions.