December 11th
Dante didn’t look up from the work spread out on his desk as someone entered his office. No one got inside his office at Empire Developments unless their name was on the list, or they were an investor that put a lot of zeroes behind their name.
Basically, important people.
“Son.”
Antony was one of the important people.
Still, Dante didn’t look up. “Dad.”
“You busy, son?”
“A little. I have something coming up that I need to approve.”
“Looks like a new build to me,” Antony said as he came closer.
Dante leaned back just enough to let his father look over a few of the plans and proposed contracts for a new fifty floor building Empire Developments wanted to nab in upper Manhattan. A condo build for expensive clients. Apparently, already half of the condos were bought with contracts signed even though the building wasn’t up yet. Dante wanted to be the company that put forth the right number to get that contract.
“You’re never going to step back from this company and relax a bit, are you?” his father asked.
“Nope. I guess you shouldn’t have fired me from Marcello Industries all those years ago. Look at what you could have had, Papa.”
Antony chuckled. “Ouch, Dante.”
He eyed his father, and shrugged a shoulder. “I was joking.”
“I know.”
Antony quieted as he gazed around Dante’s office. He didn’t need to follow his father’s stare to know what the man was seeing. Glass walls that served as floor to ceiling windows and overlooked New York City. A city that was currently being blanketed in falling white snowflakes. Across the office, the two walls separating Dante from the rest of the floor were currently frosted for privacy, but could be cleared with a push of a button.
“Do you realize I have never been in your office before?”
Dante looked up at that statement. “No, I didn’t really think about it. I guess you haven’t been up this far. Usually, you’re waiting in the lobby if you drop by.”
Antony smiled. “Maybe I didn’t want to step on your toes, son.”
“Marcello Industries sold years ago, Papa. You couldn’t possibly step on my toes.”
“First, it’s now called Crevier Industries, and—”
“I know, I regularly go against them in bidding wars. I also regularly win. Stupid name for that company.”
Antony snorted. “I thought so, too, but in the contracts for the sale was that they were required to change the name.”
Dante leaned back in his chair. His attention was finally caught enough that he felt safe to let the work on his desk linger for a while without him. Besides, he had just learned something very interesting.
“You never told me that,” Dante said. “I just assumed they changed their name because they didn’t want to be associated with what the Marcello name means here in New York.”
“If anything, keeping the name might have given them an edge.”
“Well … true.”
“I didn’t want our name attached to a company we no longer had a hand in, son.”
Huh.
“And secondly,” Antony added before Dante could say something else, “by not wanting to step on your toes, I meant that I never wanted you to feel like imposing my presence here was intended to change how you did business as the CEO of this company, Dante.”
“I never would have felt like that.”
Antony shook a finger at him and smiled. “I think you would have, but now, we will never have to worry about it. See what I did there?”
Dante laughed, and went back to surveying the work on his desk. “So what brought you over to my side of town today, anyway?”
“Catrina, actually.”
“What, is she not doing what Ma wants her to do for that Christmas party, or something?”
“I assume Catrina is doing just fine. I think Cecelia even mentioned Catrina was handling the catering side of things, and whatnot.”
“She’s already cooked some stuff, too. Froze it so it would be good.”
And nearly broke Dante’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when he tried to steal some of the sweets. Fuck his life …
“No, I came here because she called about you, son,” Antony said.
Dante’s head popped right back up again. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your wife.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
Antony nodded. “She called about you.”
Dante tried all he could not to show the irritation suddenly boiling inside his bloodstream, and failed miserably. All his father did was raise an eyebrow while Dante grinded his fucking teeth.
“Oh she did, huh?”
“Technically, your mother,” Antony said, “but it was meant for me. Cecelia passed the information along. You’ve been in some kind of mood for quite a while. I think Catrina assumed it was passing the rest of us by, but we have all gotten a taste of your attitude over these past couple of months.”
His father waved a hand high in the air, adding, “According to your wife, it’s gotten progressively worse. You’re not handling … well, whatever it is that’s bothering you very well. Stress, I assume. Work, likely. Cosa Nostra. It all piles and piles and piles, doesn’t it? Before we realize what’s even happening, it’s already happened.”
Dante just kept grinding his teeth while his father talked. Mostly, he was pissed the fuck off that his wife thought it would be okay to go to his parents about the fact he was having issues. They kept their private business private for a reason.
This was one of those things.
“Dad, it’s not your concern,” Dante told him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do, and I really need to get it done.”
“Could you say that with less bite in your tone?”
“Not at the moment.”
“You’re angry.”
“Wouldn’t you be in my situation?” Dante asked. “I handle my business just fine on my own. I do not need anyone else getting into it. I will be sure to pass that little message along to my wife when I get home. Apparently, she needs a reminder.”
“Or she cares about you and is concerned. Have you thought of taking a break?”
Dante scoffed.
Hard, loud, and rude.
He pushed away from his work and desk, sitting straight and staring his father head-on. Antony didn’t bat an eye at Dante’s anger resurfacing.
“A break, really? I have too much work between this fucking place and la famiglia to even consider taking a break. That’s before I even get into mentioning my wife and kids, or the time of year. Oh, and let’s not forget that I am still waiting on Gio to at least get me some good news on the Lucian front, so I know if he’s going to be out of jail before Christmas gets here.”
Antony brushed off invisible lint from his suit. “And what if I could provide all of that for you, son? Someone to handle famiglia business. Someone to be here. Your children. Lucian. All of it. What if it was all handled? Would you take a short break and get back to a place where you can recharge?”
“Well, then, you’d have to be fucking Santa Claus, Papa.”
Antony grinned.
It looked like a challenge.
“Ho, ho, ho, Dante.”