“Both of you stop right now,” I order.
“Your dear nephew is now the boss of the Pastore organization,” Adrianna chides. “Daddy wouldn’t give it up, he couldn’t let it go so he groomed Rocco to be the boss. He couldn’t give up the mob but he gave up his life without hesitation.”
I spin around to face Anthony.
“Is it true? Victor gave the business to Rocco?”
“Yes,” he confesses, taking my hand. “Listen to me Grace, everyone’s emotions are all over the place but there’s more to it than just handing over his business to someone.” He glances over my shoulder at Adrianna. “Every mob boss from here to California will now take a page from the book Vic wrote because even in death he protected his family. Don’t think for one minute he wasn’t thinking of everyone standing in this room. He won’t be here to protect the people he loves, but he made sure someone else always would by keeping the business within the family. Handing it over to his nephew, he is keeping his enemies away. If he didn’t name a successor, then we are vulnerable and a free for all to take whatever kind of action they see fit.”
“You were singing a different tune the other day,” Adrianna accuses, her tone more subdued, the fight in her diminishing.
“I didn’t know he was dying, Reese’s. That changes everything, I understand why he made the choice he made. Think about it, since the day they locked your father up he’s always had his hand in something, think back to the visits in the jail and the respect he gets from the COs. Look what he did for Jack, how he helped to get Blackie released, he’s always had some sort of control. The only way he’d ever lose control is if he lost his life.”
My head was spinning trying to make sense of everything Anthony was saying but as much as I wanted to see the silver lining in Victor’s decision I harbored too much resentment. Anthony knew Vic’s business like the back of his hand, he understood the life and its consequences and even knowing that what he was saying was probably true I didn’t want to hear it.
I was so sick of the mob and everything it stood for.
I was always second to the mob, decisions that should’ve been between me and him never were, they were decided between him and his associates, him and his underboss, him and his lawyer.
Just once in thirty years I would like to be asked my opinion.
Just once I would like to come first.
I turn around and spot Nikki sitting on the couch crying staring off into space. Walking over to her, I wrap my arms around her and cradle her to my chest, consoling her as she breaks down and cries.
The front door opens and Michael walks in stopping in his tracks as he glances around the room at us. His eyes zeroing in on Nikki as she pulls out of my embrace and stares back at him.
“You told them?” He asks, stepping toward her but again he freezes causing me to curiously study Nikki’s face.
“Told us what?” I ask, my eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.
“Shit,” Michael hisses.
“Nikki?” I coax, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I got bad news from my doctor.”
I instantly felt the air leave my lungs as the words left her mouth and I asked myself, how much can one family possibly endure?
Chapter Seventeen
I swipe my hand along my face, scratching at the scruff that lines my jaw as I try to think of what to say to the man sitting across from me. I came here with every intention of ripping Victor a new asshole for springing the whole Rocco thing on me and pulling the wool over my eyes. But before I could give him the lashing he deserved the son of a bitch told me he had lung cancer.
“How long have you known?”
He folds his hands neatly on top of the table as he holds my gaze.
“A while,” he admits vaguely.
My eyes work him over, trying to find the signs I likely ignored but aside from the occasional coughing fit and the few pounds he’d shed, I had nothing. He still looked as dapper as ever. Even in his white canvas sneakers and prison jumpsuit.
Fucker.
“I can’t imagine they send the doctors from Sloan Kettering to this joint,” I seethe, shaking my head as I lean back in my chair.
He smiles faintly.
“It wouldn’t matter if they did. I’ve refused all treatment,” he reveals. I open my mouth to criticize his decision, but I stop myself. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have made the same decision given the circumstances.
“When I found out it was already stage four. There is no use in putting myself through that, putting my family through that, only to prolong the inevitable,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m behind bars, Jack, it’s not like I’d have more time to spend with Grace and the girls. They gave me a year tops, it’s been two,” he grins cockily, a trademark just like the suits he used to wear. “It’s like God knows I have a plan I need to see through.”
“Or the devil knows,” I mutter.
All the same,” he agrees.