John Paul's grip on my hand was tighter than I would have imagined, his stare into my eyes dark and glaring. "Your mother had a love affair with your father for two years before he even asked her out. They were glorious together, happy. That was long before you were born. She understood the darkness, even though she sparred with Ricardo during the last years of her life. They were a great love, something I always tried to achieve but failed miserably at."
The conviction in his voice was something I hadn't heard before. "My mother died because of what my father does."
"She died because of the monsters longing to take over your father's businesses. Don't weigh one against the other, Michael. The love they had is something I just noticed in your eyes."
I couldn't help but laugh. "There is no way I could fall in love with Francesca."
He took several sips of his drink, settling back into the chair. "I believe you already have."
"Not a chance. She means nothing to me." I shouldn't be stunned by his words or the meaning of them. If I cared for Francesca in any manner, the weakness would be a detriment. I took a deep breath and leaned further forward in my chair. "What am I supposed to do, John Paul? If my father dies, I will need a full understanding of running his operation and I want everything handled like a true business. Being the Don of Los Angeles isn't what I want out of life."
John Paul seemed thoughtful for a full minute before speaking. And when he offered his advice, it further solidified what I needed to do.
"You are your father's son. The fight that's deep within you is something I haven't seen in a very long time. You will do what's right, even if it means getting blood on your hands. Yes, son, sometimes that is necessary. Your enemies will come after you very soon and their methods of retaliation are... let's just say more brutal than you can ever imagine. As far as making the business legitimate, well, if anyone can do it, you can."
His smirk fueled my fire. Maybe I was a fool to think I could do something like that.
"One thing you need to do is forgive your father, if for no other reason than to free those chains wrapped firmly around your neck."
"Not a chance." Chains. They were steel in design and without any locks. They'd been there for years, weighing me down. However, forgiveness wasn't an option. My father had made his own bed.
He coughed, holding the handkerchief in front of his mouth.
"I need to get you to a doctor."
Waving his hand, he took several deep swallows. "This is my home and the place I feel most at peace. I'm not going anywhere, Michael. I hope you can understand that."
"Yeah, I can. I just wish things were different."
"We all have the wonderful ability to choose our lives even through the tragedies."
A flash of memories shifted into my mind, so many that were truly wonderful and I refused to accept. "I was born into mine."
"True royalty. You have to grasp onto that in order to be successful."
Royalty. The word was foreign to me. "I don't want to start a war."
"You may have no choice. That is the life we live, Michael. Keep Francesca Alessandro safe and away from her family, but that will come at a price. You will lose some of your father's men. Take heed in the decisions you made regarding retaliation. Be mindful, even careful of your choices. The determinations you make during the course of the next few weeks will alter the future for the entire city, perhaps even the entire West Coast. That is the power that your father has wielded for almost forty years. Do not trust anyone, only your gut and keep in mind, there will be an assassin attempting to take my life as well. Do not strike back for that reason alone."
I bristled, my entire body shaking. "If anyone attempts to hurt you, they will die."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Michael, more than you know, but I can take care of myself." His expression softened. "I'm an old man and I've lived through some very difficult times. I learned far too late the importance of family. I hope you won't make that same mistake. You'll regret it for the rest of your life." There were tears in his eyes, a moment of resignation. "The love I have for you transcends what I ever thought I could feel. You will do the right thing because you are an honorable man."
The right thing. I heard the words. I knew what he meant by them. However, there was no honor in what I'd done or what I was about to do.
Only death. Michael
Fucked.
That's the way I felt about the entire situation. I left John Paul after finishing the single drink, my instincts already kicking in. He was preparing himself to die, well aware there was a target on his back. The attack on my father and his capos had been just the beginning. There was a plan in motion to tear down the Cappalini organization. I would stake all that I knew on that.
The fuckers had another think coming.
The ride back to Dominick's house was without incident. There were no men following the SUV, no dark cars waiting. I was still off the radar.
For now.
Some of what John Paul had told me was jarring, but I'd needed to hear the words. Maybe his encouragement was exactly what would instigate a plan of my own. The people responsible had waited to grab a moment when the organization was the most vulnerable, including my complete apathy. At some point they'd make a mistake, becoming careless and I'd come down with a hammer. My heart was heavy, aching for the man, but I'd have to push that aside. I would set up a meeting for the morning then a visit to all the suppliers and land developers. The mayor would be last. Time to come out of hiding.
Time to make final decisions.
Time to initiate the final battle.
When we were within two miles of the house, I had a sudden cathartic need. "Jax, one more stop before you take me back."
"Anywhere you want, boss."
"Castlewood Cemetery." Once again, I noticed the wide-eyed look the two soldiers exchanged. My behavior was unusual. So what? This was all about a new beginning, no matter how treacherous the circumstances. For that I needed closure. What I was about to do was important. As John Paul had mentioned, my decisions would alter the course of the organization. This could go south very quickly. It was only a matter of time before the Feds kicked up the heat, certain they'd have a huge body count. That could happen.
My father had told me more than once that I didn't have the stomach to kill as required. Things were about to change.
The gravel driveway appeared the same as it had the last time I was here, the tree-lined entrance one I would never forget. Jax didn't seem to need directions as to where to go, a curious realization. He stopped the SUV, lifting his eyes to gaze into the rearview mirror.
"We're here."
I nodded and climbed out, feeling almost guilty for not having any flowers. I stood only feet from the vehicle, my hands shoved into my pockets. The last time I'd been here I'd just landed my first movie role, sharing with her the excitement of my good fortune. How things changed.