"Luciano De Luca is being an asshole!. He's being an asshole, and you're all ignoring it because your fat bellies are nourished with his coins!"
The long table stretched on both ends of the large room, its surface glowing under the golden light of the chandelier.
Seven Dons, representing the seven Mafia districts, sat at this table in their perfectly tailored suits, drinking smooth whiskey.
The smell of ancient cigarettes mixed with bitter grudges filled the air, as they all listened to Lorenzo Barone rant.
"Twice he has stopped my operations. Don't we have a code of conduct anymore? What was done in the old days when fratello messed with fratello?" He looked around, studying their reactions.
He needed to see who still remembered the good old days his father ruled above all.
The days his father's words were final and unbendable.
He counted four out of the six, but two out of his four weren't the two he would have preferred.
They were simply not enough. Too docile. Disgusting pushovers.
"Luciano has messed with my operation twice. There will be a dead body before there is a third time." He reclined into his seat, and took a drag out of his cigarette that had almost burned out.
The speaker of the house cleared his throat, and leaned out of his seat.
His cracked ancient lips slid open, as he began to address the gathering.
"We've heard your complaint, fratello. It has been duly noted. The problem isn't acknowledging your grievance. The problem is getting Luciano to listen. As you see, he never graces these meetings anymore. We simply can't force him to either."
"Nonsense!" Enzo Romano charged at him on behalf of his friend, Lorenzo.
Internally, Lorenzo smiled. At least he had one soldier ready to go to war with him.
"Have we become so docile that Luciano can just decide not to show up, and we can't take any actions against him? Who is that bastard? Have we all forgotten how you–" he pointed to Don Marcello. "How you begged us to let him back in after his entire family was blacklisted for being infami- traitors! Is this how you pay us back for our kindness? Tell me!" He banged a fist on the table.
Don Marcello pulled out a dagger, and shoved its sharp tip on the table. "Do not use that tone with me, boy! We may be brothers but I am older than you. You will show me some respect!"
"Maybe I will when you old leeches can call that son of a bitch together!" He fired back.
Guns were immediately drawn, and hands found the triggers.
"Enough!" The frail voice of Don Carlo echoed around the room.
The air charged with tension so thick, it could be cut through with a blunt knife.
"Why are you all acting like children? This is not the time for any of this. Pointing guns to your brothers? Is this the legacy Don Pedro left us? I'm ashamed of you all!" He spat to the ground.
Nicolo, who had been silently observing all the while cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence that ensued.
"We can argue all day and night, but nothing will change if we can't get Luciano's attention. Nothing." He shrugged, right after dropping the his piece.
And their faces, some cast with anger, others with amusement, knew this was the absolute truth.
****
Luciano stopped by the car door already opened for him, and waited for Vittorio to get to him.
"Amico, what changed your mind?" He questioned as soon as he reached him.
"Like you said, they've been wanting my attention. It's time to satiate their thirst. Although, I don't know why in this century, they still hold these meetings so early," he hissed.
Vittorio cracked a smile. "You look suited for the occasion. I know you won't disappoint."
"No more be more forgiving speech?" He lifted a brow.
"No, you were right. I agree there are things about our old traditions I still find difficult to part with. That's on me. I have no right to push you into accepting them. Forgive me."
Luciano smacked his arm playfully. "There's nothing to forgive. You've fought by my side for years. It is only fair that I give you grace even when we have a difference in opinions. It's fine."
"Thanks," he nodded. "What are the orders while you're gone?"
"The girls will be having breakfast with us. But first, isolate the scared one. Speak to her alone. You might discover something."
"As you wish, carpo."
Luciano chuckled. "Man, get out of here!" He shoved Vittorio aside, as he entered the car.
Vittorio watched the car drive away, his heart tensed from what he knew was inevitable.
"Be safe," he whispered.
****
The car stopped by the old worn-out building where the meetings were still held.
Luciano scrunched his nose with disgust as the smell of undiluted piss blew into his nose, immediately he stepped out of the car.
Everyone thought he distanced himself from the Dons simply to be stubborn.
However, what they didn't know was that his biggest gripe with them was their inability to adapt and be innovative.
They clung to the ways of the old like their lives depended on it.
Even a suggestion as minute as switching the buildings they hold these meetings to reflect with the times, sounded abominable to their ears.
His hand felt his gun clasped to his waist, as he made his way into the building.
"I will tell you what Luciano is. He is a child who has stumbled into money, and now thinks he can control everyone."
Luciano's face spread in a smirk, as he pushed the door open, and walked in.
Silence descended the room heavily in the wake of his arrival.
Half froze, the other half eyes bulged in shock.
Luciano did not address anyone. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pockets, dragged the chair behind, and wiped off its surface, before he sat down.
Crossing his legs, he cleared his throat. "I'm here now. Let's hear your complaints." He nudged his head.
"You arrogant bastard!" The words came directly from Lorenzo's soul.
No man had disgusted him as much as Luciano. At least no man since Luciano's own father.
"That's it?" He lifted a brow.
"Do you see that?" Lorenzo gestured to everyone present. "He is absent for ten meetings. Ten whole meetings! Now he walks in and sits like he owns the place. This is what I'm talking about. The lack of respect is staggering!" He banged the table in the middle of his crash out.
Don Carlo sighed. "Luciano, you have to explain yourself," he said just to keep the peace.
"What if I don't want to?" Luciano replied, enjoying the chaos a little too much.
If he knew this was how much his absence and presence bothered them, he never would have missed a single meeting.
"What if you don't want to?" Enzo scoffed. "Who do you think you are to make that decision?"
Luciano's eyes sauntered lazily towards him. Unlike the erratic Lorenzo, this one was a more calculated snake.
"Because no one can force me to do otherwise." He shrugged nonchalantly.
Lorenzo hissed through his clattering teeth, dying to put a bullet through Luciano's head.
"Tone down your arrogance Luciano. You're not invincible," Enzo warned.
"Good advice. I will keep that in mind. If that's all, I'll be leaving now." He made to rise, but the speaker's voice pushed him back to his seat.
"Lorenzo says you're interfering in his business. Why's that?"
"Hmmm," he stroked his chin. "Finally, something important. I did make it clear to everyone that sex trafficking has no place in our society anymore. It is a long outdated, harmful tradition. But it seems men like Lorenzo cannot comprehend this concept. So if I have to do what I have to do to protect these women from predatory men, I will absolutely do it."
Lorenzo scoffed. "And who made you the guardian of these women? You're referring to puttana"s-whores as women! They love to fuck. What is wrong in getting paid to do what they love?"
Luciano's nose wrinkled with disgust. "You're telling me sixteen year old girls love to fuck older men? Would you sell your granddaughter out to Don Carlo if he paid you?"
"Do not bring my family into this you, bastard!" He jumped to his feet, ready to lunge towards him.
His friend, Enzo, held him, and shoved him back to his seat. "He's not worth it. He's clearly trying to bait you into an attack. Don't give him what he wants. Don't."
The corner of Luciano's mouth curved into a wry smile, as he held their gazes that stared daggers at him, knowing they were too pussy and poor, to do anything to him.