It’s a fishing expedition, most likely, a bullshit job to punish me for the Albanian f**k-up, which Father is still blaming me for. My first instinct is to voice this aloud. But then, somehow, I resist the urge. Because I need Father on my side right now. Fair or not, he will not cede power to me if he thinks I can’t do a job as simple as this.
He blinks in surprise, but then nods. He takes an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and slides it across the table. “There is the matter of the marriage, too,” he says.
I smile grimly. “Yes, of course. I’m still looking.”
“It’s not so hard to find a wife,” Father remarks. “Love like your mother and I have comes along once in a generation, Angelo. You will do yourself a disservice if you are looking for that. Just find a good, steady woman, a
