Valentino

“Enzo, go get somebody to come clean this up,” Cresci orders. Once Enzo has left the room, Cresci nods at me. “All right. Now, what the fuck happened, and how did you almost get fucking killed?”

I sigh, getting up and straightening my suit. I inspect the white shirt beneath it, pleased to see that no blood got through onto it. “Someone set me up,” I say, glancing between Cresci and Silvano. “Everything had been vetted, but when it came down to it, someone tried to fucking shoot me, and somehow they got around the cameras and alarms to rig up fucking explosives.” I grit my teeth, still pissed that that happened under my watch.

“Who have you pissed off lately?” Silvano asks. “Things are a bit tense with the Winters family, but not to the point of explosions. Did one of your deals with the Russians or Serbians go sour?”

I shake my head, although I wouldn’t count our animosity with the Winters clan “a bit tense.” They want our blood—but not specifically my blood, as far as I’m aware.

“I haven’t pissed anyone off enough for that kind of attack… that I know of, anyway.” I grimace, glancing at the bloody couch. Nero’s bullet could’ve easily found me if I hadn’t been really, really fucking lucky. “Someone could be holding a grudge, I guess.”

Cresci makes a disgusted noise. “I don’t need this. I’m about to announce… “ He sighs, and his face softens somewhat. “I’m getting tired of all this. You two know that. I thought I’d be able to retire soon, but I can’t do that if we’re getting attacked like this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll figure this out sooner rather than later. Maybe it was someone Dan was working with.” I shake my head.

Silvano angles himself towards his father. “Dad… You can take mom and go live on Jamaica like you want. You deserve it. Valentino and I can handle ourselves.”

Nodding, I reply, “Let us get this latest catastrophe sorted while we start working on the transition of power. We can make it as seamless as possible.” It should be fairly straight-forward. Silvano and I get along well, and I assume he’ll name me his underboss once he takes Don Cresci’s place.

But Cresci’s lips thin and he shakes his head. “No. Until this is resolved, I can’t risk it. I want the Family to thrive, not be cut down before I’ve even left the country.”

Silvano isn’t happy with that declaration, but he wisely doesn’t say anything else. We both know his father is stubborn to a fault, and once he’s got his mind set on something, there’s no changing it.

“Fine. Then we can start by trying to figure out who ordered the hit on Valentino.” Silvano turns to me. “You have any leads?”

“A few.” I don’t usually hold information back from Don Cresci, but something about the whole situation has me thinking it’s best to keep it close to the chest until I find out more. “Does the name Corbin mean anything to either of you?”

Silvano shakes his head, but Cresci grimaces. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Got a new bodyguard for the time being, and he’s been a good source of information,” I say carefully. I don’t want to lie, but if I tell Cresci the whole truth, he’ll insist on torturing and killing Nero—and I can’t have that.

Cresci rubs his jaw. “There used to be a hitman by that name. I heard he died fifteen years ago, though.”

If he’s dead, how does Nero know him? He talked about him in the present, not the past. “Did he have any partners?” I ask. “Protégés, even?”

“Not that I heard, but I didn’t know him personally. It was all just rumors, and one day he vanished from the scene. Somebody claimed to have taken him out, but it’s not like we could verify any of it,” Cresci says.

“Maybe he had an admirer, or a copycat,” Silvano suggests. “Why bother building up your own brand, when you can steal somebody else’s?”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone adopted a killer’s name and continued to operate under it, but it doesn’t feel right. Nero had said he didn’t want to go back to Corbin, and whether it’s the original Corbin or some new one, someone is using that name. “I’ll see what else I can find out,” I say, “but someone is operating under the name Corbin now.”

“I can reach out to some of my people too,” Silvano says. He taps his slender fingers against his thigh. “There can’t be that many hitmen operating out of New Bristol.” Then he wrinkles his nose and looks over at Dan’s cooling corpse. “Is there anything else, Dad?”

Cresci follows Silvano’s gaze and shakes his head. “Your stomach is still weak. When’s the last time you even shot somebody?”

That has Silvano rolling his eyes, and I feel awkward. It’s an argument I’ve witnessed multiple times already. I wouldn’t call Silvano soft, though. He doesn’t get blood on his own hands, but he doesn’t flinch away from violence or murder.

“I just don’t like the smell of corpses.” Silvano stands up and brushes imaginary lint off his tailored suit. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve heard more. See you around, Valentino!”

“Stay safe, Silvano,” I tell him.

He leaves, and I turn to Cresci. He’s watching the door his son has just stepped out of, and there’s something about his expression that makes me hesitant to speak up and interrupt his thoughts.

“Do you think he’s fit to take over?” Cresci asks after a moment, turning his attention back to me. “Be honest.”

The words shock me into momentary silence. “Boss?”

He grumbles and waves his hand dismissively. “A passing thought. I don’t want the organization to crumble as soon as I’m out of the picture. I love my son, but he’s…”

It’s true that Silvano and Giovanni Cresci are two very different men. Silvano takes more after his mother in the looks department, with blond hair and bright blue eyes and a much thinner figure. He enjoys expensive, well-tailored suits and exudes an air of class, while Giovanni is darker, stockier, and wouldn’t be out of place in a pub brawl.

They both command power, though, and know how to get people to do what they want. Not always in the same manner, but the end results speak for themselves. Most people would say that Giovanni is the more dangerous man, but I’m not so sure.

“He’s different, but the men respect him,” I say, choosing my words with care. “He makes good decisions. I might not bet on him in a physical altercation, but I’d put all my money on him in pretty much anything else. He just needs good bodyguards and enforcers.” I grin at Cresci. “And I’ll be supporting him, too. I’ll make sure nobody can get to him.”

Cresci bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I know you can handle yourself in a fight. Fuck, I still sometimes think about how you looked with your fists all bloody. Did that kid even survive?”

I can’t help but smirk. “Never got rid of that limp, but yeah, he survived. He shouldn’t have fucked up like he did.” I shake my head, thinking back to the first time I’d caught Cresci’s attention. I was just dealing with one of the wannabe associates who’d fucked up, and maybe I used more violence than I needed to…

Eh, the guy’s lucky he survived. And Cresci had “liked my style.”

“Anyway. Silvano’s not the only one who isn’t a fan of that corpse smell,” I say with a chuckle. “It’ll be fine. Retire when you’re ready, and I’ll be here to make sure the transition of power goes smoothly.”

“The corpse hasn’t even begun to cool! There’s no smell!” Cresci mumbles. “We’ll see, though. You can leave. Send Enzo back in so he gets rid of Dan before he does start to stink.”

“Will do,” I tell him, bowing my head to him.

I leave the house, but my thoughts keep going back to that strange exchange. Do I think Silvano’s fit to take over? Of course I do. He’s earned his place as the underboss, and I don’t think he’s a weakling who will have to fight to prove himself.

But the words bother me all the same.