If The Seas Catch Fire(93)

His uncle indicated an empty seat, which Dom took.

From the head of the table, Corrado cast a sweeping glance at the gathered men. “Now that we’re all here…” He squared his shoulders. “My elder son has betrayed the family. As you all know, I have… taken care of the situation.”

Leather protested as a few men shifted in their chairs.

“What this means is that my heir is dead. And, whether any of us like it or not, we have a war on our hands.”

Dom swallowed. He kept his gaze fixed right on his uncle, but the other men’s scrutiny prickled his skin.

“After the unfortunate events that have happened recently,” Corrado continued, “we have to consider that the family may find itself needing a new leader.”

The other men shifted some more, leather protesting and clothes hissing softly.

Corrado rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers as he looked Dom right in the eye. “You’ve come a long way from your father, Domenico. You’re a sane and reasonable leader.”

Oh God. Oh God, no…

“Particularly with Luciano…” Corrado paused, and then shook his head. “Given the current circumstances, in the event that something happens to me, I’m leaving the family to you.”

Dom’s mouth went dry. No. No, please. Not this. Anything but this. Ice cold panic surged through his veins. “I’m… I’m honored, but—”

“You are the best hope for the future of the Maisanos.” Corrado folded his hands and exhaled slowly. “My father and my grandfather worked their fingers to the bone to make this family what it is. I have to make sure that when my time is up, the family remains in good hands. Particularly with this… unfortunate turn of events with my son.”

Dom’s gut twisted. He fought the urge to look around the room. Beneath the table, he rubbed at his hand with his thumb, as if he could get rid of the gun residue that he swore he could feel climbing beneath his skin and into his bones.

“Felice, he’s…” Corrado shook his head. “I don’t know where I went wrong with him, Domenico, but he’s… well, he’s an idiot. He’s impulsive. Can’t be trusted to control himself, never mind lead an organization like this.”

Several men murmured with cautious agreement.

Eyes narrow, Corrado drummed his fingers on the table. “In a few years, if, God willing, I’m still here, Luciano’s son has the makings of an excellent leader. But”—he waved his hand—“Angelo has a lot of years ahead of him before he’s even ready to be made.”

The thought of his nephew going through that initiation—killing a man, being officially brought into this poisonous fold—made Dom’s stomach twist.

Tamping down the sick feeling in his chest, Dom took a breath. “Felice will never stand for this.”

“He will,” Corrado said coldly. “As will everyone in this room.” He gestured at the other men, and when Dom looked around, they all nodded. “My word will be obeyed and respected. I will inform Felice in private after he’s had a chance to grieve for Biaggio and for his brother. Not now. And I’d have waited until we’d all had a chance to grieve, but I can’t ignore the rise in violence now, or my own mortality.”

Dom didn’t know what to say.

Corrado straightened. “Well. Will you accept your place as my heir?”

What choice do I have?

There was only one option—to accept this the way Luciano had accepted his fate.

He nodded. “Yes, Uncle Corrado.”

“Good.” Corrado beamed. “Then it’s official.”

The other men rose and, one by one, came up to shake Dom’s hand. He stayed on guard, though—everyone in this business was adept at putting on a poker face while looking into the eyes of a man he had every intention of killing. These men all claimed they supported Corrado’s decision, but would they? Where would their loyalty fall when the rubber met the road? How many would still be convinced he had traitor’s blood like his father?

And what happened when Felice found out?

Corrado dismissed everyone but Dom. After everyone had left and they were alone, Dom turned to his uncle. Tone even—he didn’t dare speak to his uncle any other way—he said, “You’re painting a bull’s eye on my back.”

Corrado laughed dryly. “You’re a Maisano, son. You’ve had a bull’s eye on your back since the day you were born.”

“But now you’re putting me in charge of men who think I’m—”

“I’m putting you in charge of men who will respect my decision.”

“Like the Gambinos respected Paul Castellano?”

Corrado scowled. “They didn’t like him, and they didn’t like him in power, but they obeyed him.”

“Until they killed him.”

The old man gestured dismissively and rose. “They would’ve let him live if he hadn’t squandered his power and reputation. Everything that happened to him was his own choice, not a result of Gambino putting him in power. Which is precisely why I’m leaving the family to you. Felice…” He shook his head. “Let me put it to you this way—I’ve been told more than once that Felice would be the kind of boss that the Mafia Commission would authorize killing.”