April was unsure what she had been expecting when she first stepped through the door of the familiar mansion. What she got was a surprising sight. Her father was in the entrance hall pacing frantically and speaking rapid-fire Italian. He sounded so furious that whoever was at the other end of the line was probably in fear for their life. It looked like what Cris said was true. He had taken the position of consigliere and now that the Don was at his wife's bedside, he was temporarily in charge. She struggled to put together the image she had of her father in her head with the man pacing back and forth before her. He was not the gentle, nurturing presence that had played a significant role in raising her. He was not in the ripped jeans and T-shirt that were practically synonymous with him. H
