Dad jabbed his forefinger against my chest where my Famiglia tattoo was. His eyes bored into mine. “Since you seem incapable of making good choices at the moment, I’ll make it easy for you. If you want to become Capo, you’ll marry Cressida. As your Capo, I’m telling you to stay away from Greta Falcone. If you touch her, kiss her, fuck her or God forbid ask Remo Falcone for her hand, you’re going against my direct order, and you’re going to waive your position as Capo and face punishment, possibly exile.”
