28. Day 75 – Dante
“I’m getting a little bored of this, V’Arezzo.”
My every breath is harsh, as I glare at the phone sitting on the desk in front of me. “I’d like to make a deal.”
Matteo sniggers. “By all means, go ahead.”
My eyes travel around the familiar office. Nothing much has changed. The floor-length windows still show the same familiar sights of the strip. The walls are still a deep blue, the large, gilded mirror opposite reflecting my strained face back at me.
My father’s belongings still sit on this desk. This room is his. A photograph of my mother sits, carefully placed in my line of sight. An old, curled photograph of me is tucked into the edge of the frame.
I grew up here, watching my father manage hundreds of men and thousands of miles of territory. Learning from him. My whole life, working toward this. To become the V’Arezzo capo, to take our family forward, to serve.
God, I wish you were here.
Although he would probably shoot me in the head himself for what I’m about to do.
“Everything.” My voice is hoarse. “I will give you everything. Every asset, every dollar in our accounts. The entire V’Arezzo fortune, the casinos, the clubs. All of it, signed over and in your name by the end of the day.”
My desperation bleeds through the line.
There’s silence. It stretches on for so long that I check the connection.
“Well,” he says finally. “This is a surprise, V’Arezzo. I must confess that I didn’t think of you as a family man.”
Then you don’t know me at all.I bite back the words, waiting.
I have nothing else to give, but this.
He hums. “Tempting… but no. I find that I rather like having you on my leash. And I’m becoming quite attached to your daughter. Sweet little thing. Quiet. She’s crawling now, you know. And such pretty eyes she has, too.”
My throat burns. “Please.”
I will beg. I have begged, every day. In messages, voicemails, letters, visits to the Corvo house, only to be blocked at the gates. At the Cosa Nostra meeting, on my fucking knees as he laughed in my face.
I will get down on my knees as many times as I need to. Flagellate myself if I have to.
Whatever he fucking wants.
“Take me instead, then. I’m a valuable hostage in my own right, Matteo. Lock me up, do whatever the fuck you want. Just give her back.”
“Now, then.” His voice is chiding. Mocking. “This is why you’re in your current position, V’Arezzo. Sentimentality will get you nowhere, not in our world. Take it from me.”
My phone beeps. “A gift for you, since I’m feeling particularly benevolent today. Don’t call me again, or the gift will look a little different next time.”
I stare at the notification, as the call cuts out.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what appears.
The photo loads, opens.
The sound that tears from my throat is… agony. Anguish and fear and something new, as I set eyes on Alessia for the first time.
She’s laughing, sitting up against a pillow in a pretty green check sundress with white flowers on the collar. Her head is tipped back, rosebud lips open and smiling, showing the hint of a few teeth beneath. And her eyes – V’Arezzo eyes, unmistakably so.
My eyes.
But her curls – those are undeniably Caterina’s curls, bronze and tight and sticking up wildly in every direction.
A perfect blend of us. Alessia.
A knife through the heart would hurt less than this moment.
But she looks happy. Cared for. Safe.
I forward the photo to Rocco, my heart in my mouth. Find out when this was taken.
His response comes only a few minutes later. I’m still staring at that photo, mapping every inch of my daughter’s face.
Two days ago.