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.”
Dom gulped. The now-defunct Commission had only given their blessing for one boss hit in all of Mafia history. There were plenty of hits, all sanctioned within individual families, but Carmine Galante had pissed off so many people, the Commission had unanimously agreed that the bastard needed to go.
Corrado came around to his chair and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is a great deal to take in. Particularly after what’s happened to Biaggio and after my son turned on us.”
Dom gritted his teeth. He’d quite possibly killed an innocent man today. Did Corrado know? Did it change anything?
“This is all a tremendous responsibility.” Corrado patted Dom’s shoulder. “One I hope you won’t have to take on for many, many years, but these are dark days for us, Domenico. This is war. Anything could happen. And there’s no one I trust more with the legacy of the Maisano name.” Corrado sighed, and as his expression fell, he looked older than he ever had. Old, tired, even frail. “Perhaps this is a lesson for me. That I should have scrutinized my own boys more than I did. I nearly left the family in the hands of a traitor.”
A lump rose in Dom’s throat, but he didn’t let it show.
“I scrutinized you the way I should have my sons,” Corrado continued. “You proved everyone wrong, time and again, and to be frank, even if my son hadn’t turned out to be a traitor, I think I’d have eventually named you the way I am today. You’re not your father, Domenico. He could never have amounted to half the man you’ve become.”
The words replaced the lump in Dom’s throat with bile. Knowing how much blood was on his hands, and what blood in particular was on Corrado’s…
He clenched his jaw to keep from getting sick.
Corrado put a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “This means we need to think seriously about this arrangement with Brigida.” He squeezed firmly. “Your image will be even more important now.”
Dom’s mouth went dry. “Are you that convinced someone is going to take you out?”
“They can try, Domenico. They can try.” He chuckled, but it faded. “It’s the reality of our situation. I fully intend to retire from this business an old man, but for the sake of the family, I have to make sure provisions are in place.” He smiled broadly. “At least now I will know for certain that the organization is in good hands.”
Dom forced himself to smile back, but he was dying on the inside.
Because now, more than ever before, there was no escaping this life.
Chapter 25
The text was benign enough: Can I see you tonight?
Sergei had hidden his enthusiasm behind a response of Sure, see you after my shift, and then struggled to make it through the night. He half-assed a few dances to save energy. Let Jesse take over his table a couple of times. Counted down the minutes.