Stefano
“Fanculo. You look like shit.”
Nico’s face is covered in bruises, his lip’s split and one eye is swollen shut. He texted me to say he’s back and to meet him in his office. I can see why he’s hiding up here instead of being out on the floor.
I make a mental note to bring him that salve from Lucia.
“Junior is such a testa di cazzo,” I mutter as we give each other a back-slapping hug.
Nico shrugs like getting beat to a pulp by your own brother is no big deal. Which to us, it really isn’t, considering how we were raised. “It’s done. Settled. We’re getting married in a month back in Chicago and the whole f*****g lot can show up to kiss my ass.”
“He just had to show you he’s still boss, eh? Even though you’re the Tacone who brings in the real dough? Who makes their s**t legit?”
“T
