Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(16)

“Go on.”

“I told you—people aren’t happy, Gian.”

“That’s not news, Dom.”

“No, I don’t mean the usual younger guys having rifts with the older guys. I mean they’re looking for some kind of stability here, and coming up with nothing. That’s not good on the streets. It makes people fight about stupid shit to have something to do.”

Gian scowled. “Yeah, I got it.”

“So yeah … maybe be careful.”

He didn’t need his younger brother lecturing him on how Cosa Nostra—or the made men within the family—worked, but he let Domenic have his moment. If nothing else, to let his brother feel like he had done something useful.

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” Gian repeated.

He hung up the call through the Bluetooth before Domenic could reply. Soon, he had driven the long length of the Portella driveway, and parked his car, cutting the engine as he surveyed the circular entrance.

Gian did not like what he saw.

Cars.

Several cars.

Yet, not enough for it to be a formal family meeting.

Of course, he recognized the vehicles, and could name the men to whom they belonged. A significant portion, if not all, of the older generation of Guzzi made men. Not one younger man, or one closer to Gian’s age.

Except for him.

Gian stepped out of his car, not bothering to lock it as he headed for the front entrance of the large home. Edmond’s wife let him in with a quiet greeting, and pointed in the direction of the upstairs.

“You’ll find him in his office,” she told Gian.

“Grazie,” he thanked her.

Sure enough, Gian walked into an office that wasn’t entirely filled with made men, but held a significant number to pull weight. All of them, with their graying hair, slightly rounded bodies, and older features, barely spared him a glance as he entered.

Edmond sat behind his large desk, a glass of scotch in his hand, and a lit cigar in the other. “Took you long enough, Gian.”

Gian shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. “Seems everyone else that you wanted to be here must have gotten a call before me, Edmond.”

“Oh, it isn’t that, now. I made a call to Matthew and he called a few more.”

Matthew, the older Capo in question, tipped his glass at Gian in greeting.

Gian offered nothing in response.

His attention was back on Edmond instead. “We both know that there are a lot of issues right now within the family, between the generations of men, and this isn’t going to help, Edmond.”

“I’m not sure I get what you mean.”

Really?

That was likely half of the damn problem.

“You’ve called a meet for the men—clearly, look around—but not all of them. It’s not good for the divide between the generations to add fuel to a fire when half of them already feel dismissed or overlooked in their positions. This will do exactly that, once they hear about it.”

Edmond sighed, using two fingers to massage his forehead while his cigar dangled dangerously between his lips. “It won’t matter after tonight, anyway. I called in the men who make a difference, the only ones whose voices need to be heard in this case.”

Gian didn’t like what he was hearing.

Nor what Edmond suggested.

“And what case is this?” Gian asked, not bothering to hide the edge of irritation sharpening his tone.

“It’s time to fill the seat, Gian. We’ve gone a week without a boss, now, and that’s not how it works in la famiglia. We’ll do the nomination tonight, and take a vote. By morning, the Guzzi family will have a new boss, and we can all move forward.”

“Except that’s not how it works, Edmond.”

“Why not?”

“Because every made man gets a voice in that vote, not a select few that you picked to be here for it.”

Edmond smiled, a sight cold enough to make Gian stand a bit straighter. “As I said, once the boss is the boss, there is nothing to argue about. Your grandfather would have understood, given the current atmosphere of the family, that this is the best way to go about stabilizing the ground floor of this famiglia.”

“Not to the detriment of more possible problems,” Gian argued.

“Right now, you’re the only one causing a problem, Gian.”

“Or is that how you want it to look, Edmond?”

Gian had hit the nail directly on the head, and he knew it in that moment. The old consigliere to his grandfather was not even bothering to hide the sneaky way he intended to go about taking the boss’s seat. He was not going to even allow the majority of younger made men in the family to speak.

Perhaps because they wouldn’t choose Edmond.

Perhaps because they would pick someone like Gian.

That pissed Gian off.

But what could he do?

Gian was acutely aware of his current situation, and how dangerous it could be for him. In a room full of made men, he would likely be the only one on his side. He could be killed, though, it was technically forbidden without proper reasoning, and no one would speak up and say why. Not when the older men felt as though they were getting what they wanted.

This was not a good situation for Gian.

Suspicion weaved through Gian’s bloodstream, and he disliked how it left him feeling. A distasteful sentiment stuck heavily on his tongue as he looked to Edmond, and was forced to wonder … had he found the hand that ordered the gun on his grandfather?