Stephan

Our entire family gathered for Sunday dinner at my parent’s house, as was tradition. My mother spent all weekend preparing for the meal, making attendance mandatory. I was furious with my father over his recent revelation, and though I wanted nothing to do with him, I couldn’t make the rest of my family suffer because of it.

I cut a slice of bread from the loaf on the counter and reached around Nino to dip it in the pot.

“What did I tell you about eating bread before dinner.” My mother shot a warning look in my direction.

“Sorry, Ma. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.” I moved toward her, finishing off my bread. “And your sauce is hard to resist.”

She smiled and rubbed my arm, her tiny fingers grazing my skin. “Go set the table for me.” Looking over at Nino, she said, “You, too. Help your brother. We’re about to eat.”

“Anything for my favorite girl.” Nino winked at our mother.

Nino grabbed a stack of dinner plates from the cabinet and handed them to me. He lifted the salad plates from another shelf and then placed the bowls on top. Before we left the kitchen, my mom handed me a silverware caddy to bring into the dining room. With my hands full, I set the plates and carrier on the table and began doing as I was asked.

Once dinner was ready and the table was set, everyone took their seats, with my father at one end and Ma at the other. My father insisted Alessio sit next to him. I sat next to Nino on the other side. A few of our cousins, aunts, uncles, and various business associates were scattered throughout, but we were mostly in the presence of family. To my father, his men were like family and were treated as such.

I hadn’t as much as glanced in my father’s direction. After finding out he was a rat, I couldn’t stand the sight of him. I was almost positive Nino had no idea, and if Alessio knew, he didn’t care. He was the most loyal of us all, the most likely to take our father’s place in the event of his death. My entire life was a lie, all because what we were trained to believe was fabricated by a traitor. And I was done with it all. With the family and everything my father had built.

Nino nudged me in the arm halfway through dinner to pass the bread. I lifted the basket from the center of the table, added a slice to my plate, and handed it to Nino. I’d thought about telling him about the conversation I’d had with our father so many times. Even though we lived in the same house, Nino spent most of his time with Alessio at Cowgirl’s after I started pulling away. I was also too busy meeting with Isabella behind his back.

“We got another tip on Rizzoli,” Nino said to me under his breath, careful not to let anyone hear. “Wanna come check it out with me after we eat?”

“Yeah. Where are we going?”

“North Jersey. He went to Bruno for help, and from what I overheard, Bruno is interested in a trade.”

This was perfect. We needed to get Chris Rizzoli and his men back to silence them. They knew there was a mole in our family, but they had no idea who was the turncoat. No one ever would have guessed my father, myself included.

A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. “What does he want?”

“An introduction to Grandpa Sal.”

Our grandfather was retired from the life, but even so, he still controlled the Calabria family in Italy. My cousin Giovanni was in charge now, with my grandfather calling some of the shots from a distance. He was a powerful man, who had contacts all over Europe. Much like my father, he’d made a move to more legitimate business practices years ago and had acquired a massive legacy over the years. The small operation we ran from the United States was only a fraction of the corrupt kingdom our family had created around the world.

“Grandpa Sal won’t talk to just anyone.”

Nino nodded. “Dad said he’ll make an exception this time. It sounded important.”

“So, we’re going to take care of business and be on our way?”

“No, not exactly. We have to meet with Bruno first, and then he’ll discuss his terms with us in person. Rizzoli will be there. But he’s under Bruno’s protection until we get Grandpa Sal on the phone.”

Unlike my father, my grandfather was a man of honor, an old-school Mafioso who would have forced his children to do the time for the crime. He never would have sold out the organization to save one of his sons.

“I’ll be there,” I told Nino, wiping up the sauce on my plate with a piece of bread and stuffing it into my mouth. “Count me in.”

Whether I wanted out or not, I had to see the shit with Rizzoli through. By the time I polished off my plate, I was too full to eat the dessert my mother was trying to force down my throat.

I leaned back in my chair, my arms raised about my head to stretch, when the emergency doorbell rang through the house.

Reaching for the gun at my waist, I pushed my chair out from the table along with most of the men in the formal dining room. The only time the men who guarded the front door used that signal was when we were under attack from another family or the Feds were here with a search warrant.

My father’s phone rang, and he answered it, instructing all of us to hide our guns under the ledge beneath the table. That could only mean one thing. The police were here, either to search the house or cart one of us off to prison.

The sound of feet shuffling along the tiled floor grew closer as they made their way down the hallway and into the dining room. All of us were standing, my mother and relatives included. This wasn’t the first time they’d come during dinner, which pissed Ma off to no end. She hated having her work go to waste, only to have police interrupt our meal. But she never complained. Most of the time, she would offer them coffee or food to pretend there was nothing wrong.

A group of men dressed in blue windbreaker jackets that read FBI in yellow writing stared us down from the head of the table, right behind Ma.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” my father asked the men.

“I have an arrest warrant for your son, Stephan.”

From previous visits, I recognized the tall, middle-aged man with blond hair. Agent Conklin started walking toward me with a smile on his smug face. He lived for days like these.

I turned to Nino and whispered, “Call Damon after I leave and tell him it’s a go. He’ll know what that means.”

He looked at me as if he were waiting for me to explain. “Just do it, Nino. It’s important. He can fill you in on the job later. I need you to do this for me.”

“Of course.”

I nodded in appreciation.

Agent Conklin gripped my shoulder and turned me around to pull my arms behind my back. “Stephan DeLuca, you’re under arrest for threatening a United States Senator.”

I shook my head, grinding my teeth at the thought of Senator Parisi. That bastard followed through on his promise for once. Motherfucker. And I knew why he was doing this. It was so he could marry Isabella off to Karl Vos without my intervention. He was also doing this to keep his secret.

I glared at my father as I left the dining room. Fucking traitor. If not for him being so weak, we wouldn’t have been in this mess with Parisi. My father was the reason I didn’t steal Isabella away from all of this. Without him begging me to follow orders, I would have left town with her a long time ago and without a second thought.

To my surprise, Agent Conklin didn’t handcuff me in front of everyone. He waited until we were in the hallway, and then two FBI agents led me outside.

Before Agent Conklin placed his hand on my head to throw me into the back of the black SUV, he whispered so low only I could hear him, “Senator Parisi sends his regards.”

Of course, the agents were in on this bullshit arrest. Because the Senator had no limits to his power, and that was the fucking truth.