Snapping Point||Book 1

7.

"Young Rossi!" Morelli's voice thundered the moment I set foot in the forecourt.

My heart plummeted. Whenever he addressed me as Young Rossi, trouble wasn't far behind. And while I was certain the redhead hadn't stirred up any trouble during her two-night stay, I couldn't shake the fear that the conversation would somehow veer toward the unfortunate events in crypt from two days ago.

"Don Morelli," I replied with a respectful nod of the head.

Decked out casually in a white shirt and grey suit pants, Morelli stood by his black Mercedes, poised to hop inside. His Sundays typically involved the Amber Resort & Spa or The Twilight Concert Hall with his diplomat cronies, where they watched nude women perform lascivious acts on stage—his own form of masochistic torture since he couldn't partake.

It was a baffling pursuit. But then again, Morelli was hardly one for understanding.

He gave my back a hearty pat as I approached, and stepped out completely to regard me. "Ottavio briefed me on the Ice Phantom's latest moves in our territory this morning." I nodded, immediately intrigued by the news, though irritated that Ottavio hadn't bothered to inform me directly. As the Capo, I should have been the one delivering such updates to Morelli. "You seem too composed about this, Romano."

Rule number one: Never argue with Morelli.

I remained quiet.

He led us towards the small fountain, and I glanced ahead to see Ottavio deep in conversation with a guard. Probably prepping for our Sunday club rounds. I'd have bashed the idiot's skull with a stick if I could.

Ice Phantom had been a thorn in our side for as long as I could remember, and while I'd grown weary of dealing with them, I couldn't excuse my ignorance of their latest move.

"Let me give you a piece of advice," Morelli began. He never dished out anything sweet, so I braced for the worst. "Just because you're now Capo doesn't mean it was handed to you on a silver platter."

True, it should have been Uncle Cristiano's son... if he'd spent more time getting his miserable wife pregnant instead of gallivanting to The Twilight Concert Hall or brothels. But with my other uncles stationed outside Bologna and no other male Rossi besides me and my father, who was Underboss, I'd earned my position by default as the only viable option.

Yet, Morelli made it abundantly clear, "Your father's standing, his legacy, that's what put you in this position. It could have been any man from the Family, not necessarily you."

Damn. Amato's sons weren't up to snuff, and Morelli didn't have any other suitable heirs besides Ottavio. He couldn't accept that I was his best option, but I could endure his harsh words. Nothing I hadn't heard from my father and him before.

"You're starting to look inadequate."

Where was he headed with this anyway?

"I've been groomed for years," I objected, though feeling a slight sting of indignation. Wasn't that the plan? Ever since he lost his own son, it was understood that I would be next in line due to my father's position as underboss.

"My ass!" He bellowed, and my eyes blinked back the shock, weary of his booming voice. "Who made those damn rules, Romano? Who?"

Him, my father, and Amato, obviously. "The Triad?"

"Me!"

Alright, so he had the power to bend them as well. Got it.

I nodded.

My eyes weren't staring back at him even though his were grating me, and that's because I didn't only have a problem with his tone, I had a huge one with his proximity.