Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
He took a seat in a leather chair across from where his father sat behind his desk. Lucca desperately needed a cigarette after having to listen to what Dante had just revealed …
* * *
“Your mother and I had an arranged marriage. Her father owned this Casino Hotel and had received many offers to sell, but the only way he would agree to sell to my father was if his daughter married his son. That way, when he passed, this property would pass to me, which would be returned to his daughter, and then his future grandchildren.”
Lucca stood in the corner, flipping his Zippo open and shut as he listened to the story he had heard many times before when he was a child.
“However, even though her father and mother were, in fact, Italian … your mother was not.”
He closed his Zippo with a loud click. The hair on his arms stood on end after hearing a part of the story he had never known.
“Who knows this?”
“Very few people ever did. Most of the ones who did are dead now.”
Dante continued, now speaking to Maria and Nero as Lucca already knew what it meant. “If this information fell into the wrong hands, any future children you might have with Dominic, Elle, or Chloe—”
Lucca’s eyes glowered as his met his father’s ice-blue ones.
“—may never sit where I sit one day.”
* * *
Lucca had been prepared for his future children to only be fifty percent Italian, but he hadn’t been prepared for himself to be.
His father’s words still swirled in his head. “There will always be those who will never forget the old ways.”
Unfortunately, Dante was right. That, Lucca had known and prepared for. There was no changing the mafia rules they all lived and died by for many generations overnight. It was going to be a long, hard road ahead for the family, but Lucca also had a backup plan that was thankfully foolproof. His plan was time. That by the time his children had come of age, the old fucks who held on to those old ways would be dead.
Lucca had never understood Dante’s indifference toward Chloe until that moment. Everything was beginning to make sense as to why his father was so against his children not marrying Italian blood, and it was because he wanted to protect the Caruso legacy.
Dante himself had already risked the legacy by having children with Melissa, and now all the Caruso children were playing with—
Lucca stared at the flame coming from the Zippo. Fire.
He took a long hit. He should kill his father for not telling him this sooner. He could reach over the desk right now and strangle the fucking life out of—
The sound of the heavy crystal ashtray sliding across the desk had his thoughts of murder dissipating into thin air. His eyes narrowed on it. Countless times, he had entered his father’s office, and not once had he offered up his precious ashtray, not even on the day he had given him his Zippo …
* * *
“Happy birthday, son.” Dante slid a black box across his desk, toward him. “And congratulations.”
Lucca had just officially taken the underboss title. Now both the boss and underboss held the last name Caruso.
Not only was he the youngest to ever be made in the family, but now he held the title of becoming the youngest underboss in history, at the age of twenty-one. His father rarely showed he was proud of him, but today, he could clearly see it.
Opening the box, Lucca revealed the engraved, shiny silver Zippo he had seen his father use to light his cigars ever since he could remember. It was a family heirloom, a piece of Caruso history that had passed down through many generations.
He picked up the metal piece and flicked it open until the flame shone brightly. He was just as fascinated with it as he had been the first time he’d seen his father use it. It was the exact thing that had led to his fascination with fire. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t we light up some cigars to celebrate?” Dante eagerly went to his cigar box. He opened it, picked one up, and ran the thick cigar under his nose, smelling it, before he handed it to his son.
“No, thanks.” Lucca shook his head, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He took out the matches that read, “Kansas City Hotel” and threw them on the desk, no longer needing them. Then he placed a stick in his mouth. “I’ve got my own.”
The pride on his father’s face dropped the moment he used his Zippo for the first time on a cigarette and the smell began to fill his office.
Like Lucca had never developed a taste for cigars, Dante had never developed a taste for his son’s smoke of choice, either. The only difference was Lucca never shamed him for it.