“A few years is all we require,” I told him. “Luca knows as well as we do that any kind of peace arrangement will always only be for a short period of time.”
“You can’t believe that Luca will agree to an arranged marriage.”
“Why not?” Remo asked, grinning. “It worked for him and your sister. Look at them, sickly in love. I’m sure he can spare one of his cousins. Didn’t you say his father had three sisters and two brothers? There have to be a few cousins in marrying age, or even a second cousin for all I care.”
“One of those sisters was married to a traitor whom our father killed. I doubt she will give her daughters to us,” I reminded Remo.
“One of her daughters is the fuck-thing of that bastard Growl. As if I’d accept her or her sister for our family,” Remo spat. I inclined my head in agreement. It would send the wrong message if we allowed the Famiglia to give us the leftovers of our traitorous half-brother.
“Luca wouldn’t choose either of them. But who the fuck is supposed to marry a woman from the Famiglia?” Fabiano asked, raising his blond eyebrows at my brother. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be you, Remo, because I won’t make that fucking offer. We all know that you are the last person we can parade around as a husband. You lose your temper all the time. That will end in a fucking bloody wedding and you know it.”
Remo grinned, his eyes shifting to me. That explained why he hadn’t consulted with me. “I won’t marry anyone. Nino will.”
Lifting my eyebrows at him, I asked, “Will I?”
Fabiano sank down onto the sofa, grimacing. “No offense, but Nino isn’t really the right person to play husband either.”
I tilted my head. I’d never considered marriage. It seemed unnecessary. “If you’re referring to my lack of emotions, I can assure you that I can fake them if required.”
Remo shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a marriage for love. Nino doesn’t have to feel anything to marry. He only needs to say yes and fuck his bride, perhaps father a kid or two, and keep his wife alive as long as we want peace with the Famiglia. You can do that, right?”
I narrowed my eyes, not liking his tone. “I can do that.”
Fabiano shook his head. “That’s a fucking bad idea and you know it.”
“It’s unconventional,” I conceded, “but it’s a practice that’s been used in our circles for generations. Even before our families came to the US, they arranged marriages to establish bonds between different families. And the Famiglia has old-world values. They are the only family outside Italy that still follows the bloody sheets tradition. I’m certain that Luca’s family will welcome the idea of another arranged marriage between families; Luca needs to keep the traditionalists in the Famiglia happy, especially now that he had to take in some of his relatives from Sicily. And there are still traditionalists in the Camorra who’ll appreciate that kind of agreement.”
Fabiano shook his head again. “I tell you again, Luca won’t agree. He will kill me.”
Remo smirked. “We will see. I hear he needs to protect his children.”
Fabiano jerked. “Aria’s got kids?”
Remo and I had known for a while. One of our contacts told us. Luca made sure to keep Aria and the kids out of the press and even killed a few photographers who didn’t grasp the concept of privacy. Remo hadn’t wanted Fabiano to know because he worried Fabiano would get too emotional during his visit in New York. Apparently, he changed his mind.
“ A daughter and a son,” I said. “He needs to protect them, and if we offer him peace in the west, that should convince him.”
Fabiano was silent. “How long have you known?”
“Is that important? It’s not like Luca would have let you anywhere near his kids,” Remo said.
Fabiano nodded but his mouth was tight. “You know Dante wasn’t the main force behind the attack on us. It was my father.” He looked at me then at Remo. “Dante might kill my father before we get our hands on him. I don’t want that to happen. Let me go to Chicago and bring him to Las Vegas. We can still ask Luca for peace after that.”
Remo gave me a pointed look, obviously needing me to be the voice of reason as usual.
“That seems unwise,” I said. “You are too emotionally invested to lead an attack on Outfit ground, especially on your father. And we don’t know for certain if your father acted without Dante’s direct orders. Dante might not kill him.”
“It was my father’s plan. You heard what the Outfit fuckers said when we tore them apart. My father sent those fuckers because he wanted me dead,” Fabiano growled. “And I want to kill him. I want to tear him apart limb by limb.”