Free Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) by Bethany-Kris

do.”
    Calisto shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sure I can.”
    “No. I’m graduating at the end of this year. Then, I’m
off to college. But if I get my way, it won’t be a college in this state. Daddy
will be so busy with the new baby that he won’t give a single fuck about me or
Michelle, especially if he finally gets the son he’s always wanted. He’ll
probably be happy to let me choose whatever college I want, no matter where it
is.”
    Cynthia’s tone was sharp enough to cut steel.
    It damn well cut through Calisto.
    “So, yeah,” she said with a flick of her wrist at
Calisto. “You can’t make this up to me. I won’t be around for you to do it.”
    She was right.
    Calisto’s guilt climbed higher, shaking his
foundation. He’d always made a conscious effort to spend time with his cousins,
and to be there for them in case they needed him. It wasn’t like they had that
in their father.
    Jesus.
    He was no better than Affonso.
    “I’m sorry,” Calisto repeated.
    Cynthia shrugged, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “What
difference does it make?”
    Sadly, she was right again.
     

     
    “Cynthia, make sure you have everything you need for
tomorrow,” Affonso said as he took the steps two at a time. He fixed the
cufflinks on his suit, and then glared at his watch. “Fucking woman. I am late
already. Did you hear what I said, Cynthia?”
    Calisto watched as his cousin walked on past Affonso
on the staircase without a word. She ignored her father, and quickened her
steps.
    “Cynthia!”
    “She’s pissed at me, zio ,” Calisto said.
    Affonso blew out a heavy breath, glowering over his
shoulder. “Women are God’s way of punishing men. Boys are a far easier creature
to raise, let me say.”
    Calisto didn’t think his uncle was only talking about
his daughters being troublesome to him. Usually, Emma would join Affonso as he
came downstairs in the morning, but sometimes she came down right after him,
too. She wasn’t anywhere in sight right then.
    “Why is she mad at you?” Affonso asked. “What did you
do?”
    “It’s what I didn’t do.”
    Affonso cocked a brow. “Oh?”
    Calisto didn’t see how it was any of his uncle’s
business, but he’d brought it up first. “She’s mad that I didn’t spend more
time with her over her break. I apologized. She’s still angry.”
    “Fickle things. Spoiled things.”
    “Who did that to them?” Calisto asked.
    Affonso made a face. “Easier to spoil them than to
listen to their complaints. The next man they’re handed off to can deal with
their extravagances. I did my part.”
    In Calisto’s humble fucking opinion, Affonso’s part in
his daughters’ lives hadn’t been a very damned big one.
    “As for the one upstairs,” Affonso grumbled, still
fumbling with the cufflink on his right arm.
    “What about her?”
    “She is pulling on every last nerve I have today. I
don’t have time to feed into her whims. I have a meeting to be at.”
    Calisto checked his watch. “Breakfast with Carl
Calabrese, I know. That’s why I’m here. To take you. You’ve got another hour
and a half. You’re not late, chill out.”
    “ Sì . But I feel like I’m late.”
    Because apparently that made all the difference. 
    The Calabrese syndicate was the only other Cosa Nostra
family ruling in New York besides the Donati and Marcello families. Affonso
made an effort to sit down and chat with the boss of the Calabrese family at
least three times a year to discuss business and whatever else. Affonso claimed
it kept his friendship with Carl at a respectable level, while reminding both
Dons’ families that there was no need for any territorial squabbles.
    “I’ll have Turner drive me,” Affonso said, glancing at
Calisto. “Make sure that wife of mine is out of the bathroom in the next half
hour, dressed respectably, and at that breakfast no later than a few minutes
after it starts. I can excuse her for that long, surely. Any longer and Carl
might take offence.