“Yeah,” he replied. “I tried to be on time, but I—”
“But nothing.” His voice was sharp and Carmine shut up right away, a few people quieting down as they looked in their direction. “There’s no excuse for tardiness.”
“I know, I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying, Carmine,” he interrupted again. “And I’m saying there’s no excuse.”
“Yes, and I—”
“He’s sorry,” Haven blurted out.
Corrado looked at her peculiarly, his expression unreadable. “Is he?”
She nodded hesitantly. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, at least there’s that.”
Things were tense as Corrado continued to stare them down, Haven still fidgeting and making Carmine even more anxious. After a moment Celia sighed and shook her head, turning to her husband. “If you’re done throwing your weight around, I’d like to eat.”
Corrado finally broke eye contact with Carmine to look at her. “I’m not throwing my weight around.”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’re just a big bully. You act like he blatantly ignored what time to be here. It was just a few minutes, no harm done.”
“This time,” Corrado retorted. “It might not mean anything right now, but five minutes can be a matter of life and death in other situations.”
“Yes, other situations. Meaning not this one, so give the boy a break.”
“He’s not a boy, Celia,” Corrado said, his expression darkening a bit.
“He is,” she argued. “He’s my nephew.”
“He’s my soldato.”
“He was my nephew first.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s mine forever.”
Carmine froze when Corrado spoke those words, a sickness brewing in the pit of his stomach. He had witnessed a lot of ridiculous conversations in his life but having them argue over him was surreal.
Celia pushed her chair back and stood. “I’m going to the ladies room.”
Corrado shook his head when she stormed away and the underboss, sitting to his left, clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, chi non ha moglie non ha padrone.”
Carmine smirked at his words and Corrado smiled, but it was forced. He was furious that Celia had challenged him in front of his men. He reached for his glass on the table in front of him, taking a drink as Haven leaned toward Carmine.
“What did that guy say?” she whispered, trying to be quiet, but Corrado overheard her.
He set his glass back down and answered before Carmine had a chance. “He said a man without a wife is a man without a master.”
She tensed. “Oh.”
“I forgot you don’t speak Italian,” he said. “Have you ever thought to learn?”
The color drained from her face at being put on the spot, the eyes of everyone nearby going straight to her. Most people within the organization knew by now she was a Principessa by birth, even though few of them ever had any actual contact with her. They were intrigued, naturally. Carmine understood their curiosity, but that didn’t mean it annoyed him any less.
“Uh, yes,” she said. “I’ve learned a little bit.”
“From Carmine?”