“Are you done?” Both of our heads snap over to the voice. The question said more like an order than an actual question. Capo Famiglia is rubbing his eyes with his palms, lips pursed like he’s already over our shit and he’s only been in the room for a few seconds. “Whatever the fuck this is about, I suggest you handle it on your own time.”
His hands drop and I’m surprised to find most of his annoyance aimed at Donatello instead of me.
“I thought you were going home?” Donatello is the one to ask, eyes trailing over The Boss before he continues. “You look like shit.”
“I was, until Beverly said she needed me to pick up more puppy food because apparently the kind we have, that she picked out, has grain as the first ingredient.” He blinks at us before continuing. “Those fucking dogs eat their own shit. I highly doubt it matters what the fuck kind of food they eat.”
Donatello laughs and it’s probably the first time I’ve ever heard the sound, not the fake angry one, but a genuine laugh. I feel like I’m stepping into a moment I shouldn’t be part of. The Boss, sneering over at him.
“I haven’t slept in weeks because of those fucking things.” He looks at me, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Do you know what it’s like trying to sleep in a house with three fucking dogs and two kids that run wild at all hours of the night?” I shake my head, but I think a response from me was unnecessary because he continues on his rant, “Everyone is yelling or barking or shitting all the fucking time. And God forbid I want to fuck my wife. The second my dick is out everyone suddenly needs her. I fucking need her. I need to be balls fucking deep.”
I have absolutely no idea how to respond, but Donatello takes over for me, still laughing like he wasn’t in a rage moments before this. Despite how much I fucking hate him, I’m actually glad he’s here because I have no fucking idea how to handle The Boss right now. “I told you not to let her get those fucking puppies. How many times?”
He grinds his teeth, his jaw ticking with the movement as he shakes his head. “I can’t tell that fucking woman no, she’s too fucking cute.” He’s frowning now, dark eyes giving Donatello a once over. “Why the fuck are you even here?”
Donatello’s entire demeanor shifts, his shoulders tightening as he’s reminded of our previous conversation. “Just having a conversation with, Wolf. Nothing that can’t be dealt with later.”
I’m momentarily thrown off by his use of my Famiglia name. The way The Boss’s eyes narrow on him just the slightest bit telling me more than words could. Apparently someone is on thin ice already.
“Then leave. I have business with him.”
Donatello’s eyes find mine, a silent promise to pick things back up where we left off before he nods at Capo Famiglia. Almost to the door, he yells over his shoulder, “Tell Bev hi for me, yea?”
As soon as the door slams shut, any of the previous lightness disappears from the room, a seriousness settling around us. “You’re lucky I came when I did Wolf or you might have been kissing the dirt.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve taken a hit from him.”
He raises a brow, “If you’ve taken a hit from Donatello and you’re not dead, it’s because he didn’t want you to be.”
He’s repeating my earlier thoughts but coming from him it feels more ominous.
“Edwardo Prichette. Find me something on him, he’s making millions on his arms sales and I want in on it.”
I nod, making a mental note of the name. All of our conversations like these are said in person and without paper or electronics to keep information as confidential as possible. “When?”
He’s already turned away from me, deeming the conversation over. “Before November. He’s going out of the country for the holidays.”
“Consider it done.” His only acknowledgment is the lifting of his hand, then he’s out the door.
I pull out my phone to call Laney. I have other shit to do but most of it can wait. After hearing Donatello all but admit he was a puttana to her, it adds fuel to my fire. There’s been a chill between us since the pool and I want it gone. I won’t let that Bastardo come between us again.
“Hello?” She says it like she’s eating, and it makes me smile.
“Where are you?”
“Home. Why?” I hate that she calls Donatello’s place her home. I hate anything of hers associated with him.
“Meet me at the docks.”
She doesn’t say anything immediately, just the sound of her breathing against the speaker. “I don’t know, I don’t really feel like going anywhere.”
I know she’s lying. Making up excuses, undoubtedly because of Donatello. So I don’t give her a choice. “Meet me or I’ll pick you up, Laney Girl.”
Again with the silence. I can imagine her pinching her lip between her fingers, I practically see her indecision through the phone.
“What time?” She finally gets out, and I let the tension go that was collecting in my chest.
“An hour. I have to stop somewhere first.”
“Okay, see you then.” She hangs up the phone before I can respond, and I smile at the screen. She does it all the time because she hates saying goodbye, worried about saying the wrong thing and making it awkward. If anything, hanging up on someone is even more awkward than anything she could say though.
Whistling for Duke, I hold the door open for him. Walking with
