Made (60 page)

"Yes."

"To a bar."

Vincent cut his eyes at him. "Judgment is the last thing you should be dishing out after what I can only imagine you just did to my poor sister on that bar."

"Not judging," Corrado said, slapping Vincent on the back and pulling him closer as he whispered, "and I fucked her so hard she could barely breathe."

"Ugh, disgusting!" Vincent shoved away from Corrado as he laughed. Corrado strode across the room as more sunlight filtered in, voices carrying through. "Jesus, what's gotten into you today?"

Corrado shrugged, turning to look at Vincent, taking a few steps backward as he replied, "I'm happy."

Vincent raised his eyebrows before addressing Celia. "Has that ever happened before?"

"What?" she asked.

"Your husband being happy."

She nearly lost her balance as Carmine wrapped himself around her waist. "Maybe once or twice."

Corrado turned away from them, glancing toward the entrance as a mass of guests emerged. Antonio and Gia; Salvatore; Sonny and his wife; Manny and his family…
more kids
.

Corrado welcomed his bosses personally. Nothing would ruin the high he felt tonight, nobody would dampen his mood, not even people of the three-feet-high variety.

Manny's kids ran past as Corrado greeted the man and his wife. "Amando," he said, before taking the wife's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Ma'am."

"Where's
my
hello?" the terse voice asked. He turned, coming face-to-face with Gia. She was dressed flawlessly, as usual, her expression stern.

Corrado reached out and took her hand. She had expected the same greeting as Manny's wife, but instead Corrado pulled her closer and kissed her cheeks. "How's my beautiful mother-in-law tonight?"

Gia's cold demeanor thawed the slightest bit as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Phenomenal, Corrado. How are you?"

"Great."

She patted his cheek. "I can tell."

"Grandpa!" The shrieking voice echoed through the room as soon as Antonio stepped out onto the dance floor. Antonio glanced around, a smile plastered on his face when Carmine shot through the club straight toward him, not slowing down. Antonio reached his arms down as the kid ran into them.

"Ah, there's my boy," Antonio said, pride in his voice as he held little Carmine with one arm. He was small for a six-year-old… or smaller than Dominic, anyway. Dominic ran over, receiving a less warm greeting, but Antonio looked down at him with genuine affection. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, grandpa," Dominic said as he hugged his waist.

Antonio patted Dominic's back before setting Carmine on his feet beside his brother. "You
two being
good for your father?"

"Yes," they both muttered.

He grabbed their chins, tilting their heads up. "Yes what?"

"Yes, sir."

The boys spoke in unison, earning a hearty laugh from Antonio that morphed into a coughing fit. He shook it off, clearing his throat, his voice strained as he said, "good boys."

He ruffled their hair before motioning for them to run off, both boys shrieking as they joined the other kids in a booth near the back of the club.

Others arrived, members of
La Cosa Nostra
invited with their families, while the staff came on duty for the first time. They had gone through orientation for days after a rigorous round of interviews where Corrado interrogated them and investigated them, making sure every single person he hired was dependable enough to be allowed through his doors. This was his last test… opening night wasn't for another week, but tonight was a trial run. If they carried themselves well in a room full of notorious criminals, they were officially hired.

And everyone who passed this test, who proved
themselves
to him, would have a job for life, as long as they didn't betray him or do anything to break his trust.

Because trust was something he didn't dish out easily, and if Celia had drilled anything into his head the past few months, it was that he would have to learn to give a little.

"You can't run it all by yourself," she'd said, "although, God knows, you'd damn sure try, wouldn't you?"

Old Rat Pack songs crooned from the speaker system all night long as the alcohol flowed freely. Round after round of shots were poured, two bartenders working hard to keep the drinks going out to the tables, the tip jars on the bar overflowing with wads of cash for their hard work. Energy ran high, people danced, celebrating, toasting, kids playing, while Corrado stood back, watching the whole thing.

Besides the drink he shared with his wife, he hadn't had a drop of alcohol all night.

Celia, on the other hand, was wasted. He kept a close eye on her as she danced, sure no one would be stupid enough to lay an inappropriate hand on her, but once again… trust didn't come easily.

Vincent approached a few hours later, pausing beside him along the edge of the dance floor, near where the kids played some sort of strange
Simon Says
dancing game. Vincent smiled as Dominic stood dead center, commanding the group.

"He acts the most like a DeMarco," Vincent said, watching them. "And he wasn't even born one."

Corrado surveyed the young boy.
No, not a DeMarco… not genetically, anyway.
Volkov blood ran through Dominic's veins. They never discussed it, never acknowledged it, but they all knew.

The kids had spent a few nights at his house with Celia, but much like their mother, they tended to keep their distance from Corrado. A learned trait, something not outright taught, but something they picked up intuitively from the world around them.

"It's not all about blood," Corrado said. "He's a DeMarco because he's emulating one."

"But my father barely has anything to do with Dominic."

"Not your father," Corrado said. "You."

"Me?"

Corrado looked at his brother-in-law, seeing skepticism in his eyes. "Don't be so surprised, Vincent. It took me a while to see it, but you're a DeMarco through and through."

He seemed taken aback. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Corrado said. "I didn't tell you that to boost your ego."

"Well, it did anyway, so thanks."

Corrado shook his head. "You're welcome."

"Carmine, on the other hand, is all Maura," Vincent said, looking around the club. "I don't even know where he ran off to."

There was no telling with Carmine. The entire
La Cosa Nostra
world prized the little boy, treating him like royalty, overlooking his obvious detriments… the splash of freckles on his nose and the blazing green eyes that spoke of his Irish blood.

"I'll find him for you," Corrado said, taking a step back from the dance floor. "I should do a round with the guests."

He strode off through the crowd, greeting newcomers, making sure nobody had any problems. He headed toward the back of the club, toward a booth where most of the ruckus came from. Antonio sat in the center, flanked by powerful men on both sides. Cigar smoke hung around the men like a thick, toxic cloud, everyone smoking except for the Boss. He chewed on a toothpick as he surveyed his men.

"You doing okay, sir?" Corrado asked.

Antonio glanced at him, beaming. "Never been better."

Corrado returned his smile as the Boss rubbed his chest. "You need anything?"

"You got any TUMS?" he asked with a grimace. "Got indigestion something fierce."

"I don't have any," Corrado replied, "but I can get you some."

"I'd appreciate it."

He caught a waitress's arm as she headed past. "I need you to run down the block and buy some TUMS."

"Yes, sir."

"And make it fast."

She scurried away as Corrado turned back to the men. "You guys seen Carmine?"

"Ah, my godson!" Sal grinned, a cigar between his lips. "
Principe
was here a minute ago."

Antonio's expression fell, concern shining through for a few seconds before he flashed another grin, but he hadn't been fast enough for it to escape Corrado's notice. Something was bothering the Boss.

Something to make his well-trained mask slip.

"Thank you," Corrado said, stepping back from the table. He would figure out what that was about later. "I'll find him."

He walked away, only making it a few steps before sharp notes struck his ears, contradictory to the smooth melody of Sinatra playing through the sound system. His gaze darted to the piano in the far back as he headed that way, finding the boy standing behind it in the shadows, his fingers running over the keys. He pressed down on a few black keys, making notes sound out, producing an off-key melody. Corrado paused at the corner beside the piano.

Carmine hadn't noticed him. He was concentrating.
Hard
.

"What song are you trying to play?"

Carmine snatched his hand away from the piano, backing up like the thing had burst into flames, his green eyes darting straight to Corrado with distress. "Sorry."

Corrado didn't move, not wanting to startle the child and make him flee. "What song was that?"

"I don't know," he said. "It was the black key threes notes."

Corrado cocked his head to the side. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "Are you taking piano lessons?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

"Do you know any songs?"

"No."

"Whenever you learn one, we'll have your father bring you here so you can play it for us."

His eyes lit up, the green sparkling. "Okay!"

Corrado motioned toward the dance floor. "Your father's looking for you. Go to him."

"Yes, sir."

Carmine ran off through the crowd with Corrado a few steps behind him. He stepped out onto the dance floor, hearing his wife's manic giggling, and found her just in time to see her stumble in her high heels. He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. "Whoa there,
Bellissima
."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're handsome."

"You're drunk."

"I am," she admitted. "Doesn't mean you're not handsome."

He laughed at her logic, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled her protectively against him.

"Tonight was fun," she said, grinning as her gaze darted toward the bar. "We should do that again."

"I own the place," he replied. "We'll do it any time you want."

"Now?"

"Not now."

She giggled, kissing him sloppily. He tasted bitter liquor on her lips. "We can do it somewhere else then."

He pulled back, shaking his head. "You're insatiable."

"And you're handsome."

"Later," he promised. "But I have to handle some stuff here first."

She pouted, resisting when he tried to pull her off the dance floor. "I just…"

Sudden tears swam in her eyes, the sight of them alarming him. "Celia? What's wrong?"

She shook her head frantically, almost losing her balance.

Corrado stepped back to her, everything else forgotten. "Tell me what's wrong. What happened?"

"Nothing," she choked out, a tear streaming down her cheek. "I'm just so proud of you."

"You're crying because you're proud of me?"

"Yes," she said, wiping her eyes. "You're happy."

"You're drunk."

"Happiness looks good on you."

Drunk didn't look very good on her.

"Come on," he said, pulling her away from the crowd, over to where Vincent stood with the kids. Vincent's brow furrowed at his sister's tears, but Corrado shook his head, silently telling him not to ask.

"I should get going," Vincent said, pulling out his keys. "Gotta get the kids home for bed."

"Take your sister with you," Corrado said.

Celia objected, the pout back on her face, but Corrado kissed her deeply, silencing her words. All argument seemed to be forgotten when he pulled away.

"Don't try any cartwheels tonight," he whispered, just loud enough for her ears. "Your underwear is still in my pocket."

She tugged on his tie, grinning slyly as she slurred, "I'll see you at home."

"Goodnight." She would be passed out before he made it there. His gaze turned to his brother-in-law. "Vincent. Kids."

"Bye, Uncle Corrado," Dominic said, reaching for Celia's hand. She kicked off her heels, carrying them in her free hand, before leading the boy to the door.

"Congratulations," Vincent said, grabbing Carmine by the shoulder, pulling the boy away.

Corrado watched his family leave as the waitress approached with a roll of TUMS. Corrado took them, pulling out his wallet. "How much did they cost?"

"A buck and a quarter."

He pulled out a twenty. "Keep the change."

Corrado made his way back over to the booth, pulling up a chair beside it as he held out the roll of TUMS to the Boss. Antonio tore the wrapper and popped some in his mouth. "The
family all leave
?"