A wide grin broke out across the child's face. "Hi! I'm Catie."

Dante should have figured that. "Cat, don't go teaching this child your tricks because she shares a similar name to you. Not every cat needs claws, bella."

"Better they do have them," Cat quipped. She set the child to the floor and ushered her off with a few other children dressed up and dancing. "I haven't seen you, Dante. We need to dance, you know."

"We can do that in a while, if you want."

He didn't mind indulging Catrina, whatever her schemes were.

She gestured at the people. "It's a wedding reception. You have to do the customs. At least your mother managed to wrangle you in to cut the cake. Smile and bear it."

"In a while," he repeated. "I have something to take care of and need to disappear for a bit. Will you be fine alone, or do you need someone to ward off the wolves?"

Catrina laughed in that way of hers. Confident and airless at the same time. It was no wonder she could catch a man's eye with barely any effort at all. The woman had perfected her web. "Do you think I need someone to ward them off?"

"No, but I thought I should ask. Has my mother made an effort to chat with you tonight?"

"She did and it was awkward, as usual. Worry not. Go do your ... business, is it?"

"A seat is opening. I don't know whose."

Catrina pursed her lips. "I feel like I should-"

"Not for something like this. That would never be acceptable," Dante interjected, wanting to shut that thought down before Catrina settled on it.

God knew when this woman decided she wanted something, there was nothing that would stop her from taking it.

"You didn't let me finish, Dante. You Italian men are all the same, always needing to get your words in before anyone else. I was going to say that I feel like I should tell you good luck or something. Seats only open when one is empty, correct?"

"Yeah," Dante confirmed.

"As I said, then, good luck."

Catrina reached out and gave Dante's hand a soft squeeze before turning back to the children. It was an innocent enough action but it still turned him rigid on the spot, like his feet were made of cement.

A hand landed on Dante's shoulder, breaking him from his daze.

"Let's go," he heard Lucian say behind him.

The two brothers made it to the third floor where Antony's office resided in record time. Most of the men from downstairs who needed to be in the room were already there. Dante took his seat beside his father's desk and Paulie was already sitting on the other side. Antony sat behind his desk at the head of the room, stoic and silent, twisting his signet family ring around his finger.

Slowly, the rest of the men trickled into the room, all wearing the same mask of confusion and curiosity. A few eyed one another suspiciously. Dante noted they all filed in on time by the end of it. Nobody said a word as the men leaned against walls, sat on the couch, and practically filled Antony's office until there was little room to move.

Dante counted the made men of their family-thirty-eight including his father and his brothers. Nineteen of which were capos, the others were men who had earned their button for whatever reason.

Antony nodded at the still open office door. "Somebody close that. No need to bother the guests if this gets loud."

"There a problem, Boss?" someone asked near the back of the room.

"Only if someone in here wants to make one," Antony replied, seeming bored. "Close the damn door, I said."

The door shut with a quiet click.

"Three seats are opening tonight," Antony murmured, still twisting his ring.

Men shifted on their feet, quiet murmurs passing through the room. Again, some tossed wary glances at one another. It was never a good thing when full seats were emptied. It meant death because that was the only way someone left Cosa Nostra.

Unless ...

Dante's thought process shut off as he met Lucian's gaze against the far wall. His older brother was a pillar of composure and coolness, as he usually was, but there was a bit of excitement behind his stare, too.

Holy shit.

Dante wasn't ready for this, was he?

"Three seats, Boss? Didn't know there was an issue to open them."

"There isn't," Antony said. "It would be rude to stain my wife's beautiful rugs with one of your blood. Cecelia would have a righteous fit. No, there isn't an issue unless someone wants to make one. Does someone want to?"

Confirmative no's echoed from the men.

"Good," Antony murmured. He stood from his desk, pulling the signet ring from his index finger as he straightened. The piece of jewelry was placed to the desk with the utmost care. "Formally, to our Cosa Nostra, I step down as boss."

Silence saturated the room with an invisible fog.

Antony crossed his arms over his chest, regarding the men with a softer stare than he usually sported. "The Commission will, of course, make the final decision in a few months' time, but so long as my successor is an appropriate figure to fill my seat, there will be no problems."

Dante couldn't look at his father anymore. His heart was in his throat.

By Cosa Nostra rules, there was only one way for Dante to make it out of the room alive if he was nominated to be boss-which he knew he would be-and that was if no one else objected to his nomination. There had to be a damn good reason for someone to object. Personal issues, fighting, stealing, a debt owed, and so on. Anything at all that would prove him incapable of leading. Dante wracked his brain to come up with one problem he had caused.

If someone objected and the issue was founded, no one could help him. Not his brothers, or his father ... no one.

That was Cosa Nostra rules. Made men lived by them and they died by them.

"If we take the time to consider this," Antony said, gesturing at his ring on the desk, "... it shouldn't come as a surprise to any of you. It's been a long time coming for me. I want to retire and I have made no secret of that fact. Before someone gets the idea to take my spot from me because I no longer want it, I've decided to give it up. Besides, this is a much more honorable way for me to go than having my wife bury me, yes?"

None of the men said a word in response. Joking about the death of their boss was dangerous business and not likely something one of them wanted to get caught up in. Dante recognized his father's statement for what it was: testing the waters.

"A seat in our family is open, fill it," Antony ordered.

Dante stiffened in his chair, realizing that would probably be his father's last demand of his men. Well, in any real official capacity, anyway. Antony would always be a made man. He would always be bonded by blood and brotherhood to La Cosa Nostra. His legacy as one of the most ruthless and profitable mob bosses New York had ever seen would far surpass his life.

But it was still an end of something. His era, maybe. His reign, definitely.

Antony moved around his desk, patted Dante on the cheek as he passed, and left the office without a backward glance. He closed the door behind him as he went.

More silence saturated the space as the men absorbed what had just happened. Paulie and Dante, being the two highest ranking members under Antony, had the first pick of proposing a successor. They could not put forward themselves to take the spot, but they could give it to one another. Dante knew Paulie didn't want his father's seat-he never had. Beyond that, Paulie was older than Antony by a half of a decade. He was ready to spend his glory years with his wife, too, not running a criminal empire.

Paulie clipped off the end of a cigar he pulled from his suit jacket. He worked on lighting the cigar, letting everyone around him stew in their thoughts. Surely and quietly, like he was breaking bread to begin a meal, the consigliere said, "I nominate Dante Marcello."

Before Dante could respond, Lucian replied, "Seconded."

"Aye," he heard Giovanni agree somewhere in the crowd of men.

More confirmations sprung from the capos gathered in the office. Dante felt himself relax into the chair, his tension melting away. He only needed one person to second Paulie's nomination for the seat to be his, but he still couldn't have even one person object to it.

When the room calmed, Paulie asked, "Any objections to the proposal?"

No one spoke, but Dante briefly caught a glimpse of Gio moving to the side behind another man. His jaw was tight, head tipped down out of view so his brother couldn't see whatever words were coming out of his mouth. Dante also couldn't see who Gio had approached as they were swallowed by the men in front of them.

"It's agreed, then." Paulie turned to Dante, grinning as he said, "Boss ... a second chair is open."

It took Dante far too long to understand what Paulie was telling him. He had to pick the underboss to take his previous seat and the men had to agree. Glancing over at his older brother, Dante didn't even have to think about it. "Lucian Marcello."

Lucian responded to Dante with a single acknowledgment, tilting his chin downward.

"Seconded," Paulie voiced.

As Lucian's spot wasn't like Dante's, they didn't have to wait for more confirmations. One agreement was enough.

"Any objections?" Dante asked.

"No," the men echoed together.

Dante let out a slow breath as he bent forward and clasped his hands together between his knees. "A seat is open for the button. I want to get this over with and get back to my wife. Are there any nominations?"

One name flew out from opposite ends of the office. Two capos wanting to give a family member the button. Both Dante and Paulie vetoed the suggestion instantly.

"Too young," Paulie said.

"Giovanni was only seventeen."

"Giovanni was guaranteed his button when he wanted it because of his position in the Marcello family," Dante said calmly. "From age fifteen on, he worked his ass off in the streets under several capos in this room, and two others who now reside in a cemetery. He also managed to finish high school all the while. Ask any made man Gio apprenticed under if he doesn't deserve his button for more than just his last name. And if anyone would like to discuss Giovanni's button, feel free to do us all a favor and swallow a fucking bullet on your way out."

Dante smiled, knowing damn well it looked cruel. "Moving on. Any others?"

"Salvatore Bonelli," Leo, the capo that regularly tested Dante's patience, said. Dante couldn't see the man behind another, but he could hear him.

Dante waved his hand dismissively. "Four arrests in the last two years for assault. Misdemeanors, sure, but arrests all the same. Our names do not need to be in the paper if we can help it. If he can't keep his hands to himself outside of the family, he won't be able to hold back from fighting with other made men."

"Valid points," Paulie said. "Anyone else?"

Nothing came.

Dante had no desire to sit in the office any longer than he had to. "We'll get back to this shit another day, but for now, the seat is left open."

"The crew needs to be handled," Lucian said. "I can manage some, but not all working under you."

"Divide it between the closest capos to the territory," Dante ordered. "Tribute remains the same. Speaking of tribute, I will see you all at the end of next month. Go drink and wish my father well."

Once the men were gone, Dante was quick to ask, "Gio, who was going to object?"

Giovanni cocked a brow, unfazed. "I don't think he would have, but I didn't want to chance it."

"Who?"

"Leo."

Lucian sighed harshly, rubbing at his forehead. "We have to consider if he's going to end up being an issue needing culled."

"He's had a hard-on for me ever since that first tribute when Antony didn't show up."

"I know," Lucian muttered.

"And he's really pissing me off lately with his snide fucking comments, too. I'll seed a few men into his crew and we'll go from there," Gio said.

Paulie chuckled at Dante's side. "You left out something important."

Dante didn't think he had. "What?"

"The ring, my boy."

Scowling, Dante picked up his father's signet Marcello family ring from the desk. He spun it around the tip of his middle finger, considering the jewelry. It was custom for the boss to wear something of this nature as a sign of his place and significance. When made men greeted him, they usually kissed the piece.

Still, Dante wasn't sure if he wanted to take the ring on as his own, or not. "It's my father's ring."

"Yours now," Paulie corrected gently.

"Seems you've got two new pieces of jewelry to wear," Lucian said. "All in one day, too."

"Shut up with your nonsense, man."

Lucian lifted a single shoulder in response, still leaning against the wall like this was any other day for him. Dante wondered how his older brother could be so nonchalant about the entire situation. For him, it felt like a slam in the gut-not necessarily in a bad way, either.

"It's tradition for you to take it," Paulie explained. "Antony wouldn't have given it up if he wasn't truly ready to, Dante."

"For the older generation, they're going to expect you to have it on at all times," Giovanni added, closing the office door. "You know all those ancient fools like Paulie love their traditions."

"Watch your mouth, Giovanni. Call me a fool and old one more time and watch what this old fool will do to you."

Gio scoffed but wisely chose to stay quiet.

Dante slid the ring down his finger, the gold clicking against his wedding band. It didn't feel different, nor did it weigh his hand down physically or symbolically. He needed that. "Just the Commission, now."

"With your marriage sealed, you have nothing to worry about," Paulie assured.

"Congratulations are in order," Lucian said, his sly grin making Dante's own grow. "The Marcellos have a new boss."