Chapter 33
I look at Carmine as my fingers drum on my desk, waiting for him to finish his statement. It’s been almost a week since I hung up on him during our call at the condo, but he’s made his presence more annoying by insisting on coming to the house to see me. Which means I have to see his face more than I want, and the more I see him, the more my urge to put a bullet between his eyes increases. The only thing stopping me right now is that his dealing with the other families is beneficial.
Since I’ve been working from home to help Echo and ensure she’s not overexerting herself, I’ve delegated many of my daily business dealings to my senior executive assistant and told him to filter them to his assistants as needed. Everything else has been remote, emails, or video conference calls.
Nobody has mentioned it’s odd, cared that I’m not on site, or even been shocked when I told them of my plans. Nobody cares except for Carmine. He’s the only one disturbed by my absence from the outside world, even though he reaches out daily.
“We received the invoice with details of how much everything will cost to fix at the club.”
He opens his portfolio carrying case and goes through some papers, then takes one out and hands it to me.
My fingers stop, and I reach to grab the paper. Quiet, I look at the invoice with a general breakdown of what needs to be done and how much we’re paying for the club to return to its regular running hours. When I spoke with Ilya a few days ago, he claimed he was ready to shut down the club. We had opened it to have a neutral space for the families and their men because we loved clubbing and the considerable number of women that came with the territory. It isn’t our life anymore.
Ilya’s married with two children, and I outgrew the club scene before Echo.
We keep it open purely to continue to have a safe space for our families, men, and their families. Plus, the clientele for our back venue grows each year, bringing in money that we don’t need but aren’t fools to turn away.
The events last week from damn near dismantled all of that.
I look up at Carmine. “This is everything?”
“Yes.”
Carmine nods. “Torres said that if you and Ilya want to make any changes before he begins work, you should reach out to him, but that’s just to replace and fix what was destroyed.”
A sigh escapes my mouth, and I absentmindedly run my hand over my top lip while I scan the invoice again. I haven’t been to the club in years. Mainly allowing Gio to oversee things for me, but I already know that I will have to make a trip there and set up a meeting with Ilya and Torres.
This may be the time to make more than simple fixes to the club. I drop the paper back on my desk. “I’ll reach out to him. I will call Ilya to discuss changes that need to be made, including increasing security.”
Across from me, Carmine nods. “I agree. The club has never had a problem like this, but it’s a good place.”
I withhold my surprise at his statement. When I initially proposed the club idea, Carmine was the first to say it would fail. The other council members had voted in favor of it because they were getting tired of handling issues between police and fights with other families due to territory.
This fight, though, had brought us all sorts of negative attention. From what we had been told, the fight started inside between The Chained Disciples and Tanaka’s men; eventually, all the men at the club were fighting. Security had forced Tanaka’s youngest son, Kenji, out with his men, but they’d waited until The Chained Disciples members who were there left to continue their brawl.
In the end, gunfire had started, and not only were family members injured but also curious bystanders. The rumor that my men had instigated the fight was false. Marco Jr. had been there but left before the parking lot fight. He said it was purely incited by Kenji, who acted unruly and disrespected one of the women with The Chained Disciples.
In our world, lives have been taken for much less than disrespect.
“We’ll get it settled. Until then, I’ll tell my men not to engage with other families if they go anywhere.”
“Good idea.”
I expect Carmine to leave, but he doesn’t. “Have you considered my proposal for Tommaso?”
All civility leaves me. “Absolutely not, Carmine. There’s no way in fucking hell will my wife will ever be in the same room as Tommaso and Aldo Rossi while they both have breath in their lungs.”
The proposal he’s referencing comes to mind, and I grind my teeth. When he had sent it to me, told me to read over it and respond, I hadn’t even bothered finishing it. I’d deleted it, then texted him to delete the copy he’d fucking sent to me.
The older man sighs, exasperated. “Something has to be done, Damiano. Even though you want to ignore this, he still has not dropped it. He wants amends made for the slight against Aldo, no matter how we flip it or long we wait.”
I should have let her slit his throat.
I scoff. “Then give him something other than your piss-poor attempt to humiliate my wife by having her groveling an apology to the men that ruined her life from the fucking beginning.”
My anger grows. “Tell Tommaso that the only amends he will get from us is that his parasitic brother is still breathing, and I didn’t let my wife kill him on the spot.”
With the defeated air of a disappointed father, Carmine rests his hands on the chair’s armrest and pushes himself to stand. “I hope you think about this closely, Damiano. I know that you are taking over for your uncle, and the stress behind that may be fogging your judgment, but an apology is better than death.”
He starts to walk to the office door when I call his name. His hopeful look dies the instant he turns to me, and I’m sure he can see the murderous glint I feel in them. “If you ever think to put my wife and child in a scenario that will make them uncomfortable, or suggest it to anyone else, I will slit your daughter’s throat in front of her children, and send her body to your ex-wife’s doorstep.”
At the threat he knows is a promise, Carmine opens the office door and leaves without saying anything else. When I’m sure he’s gone and my anger has simmered down, I push the chair back and leave my office to find Echo.
With her physical abilities limited lately, she’s been spending most of her time reading. She’s read ten books from my library in the last seven days, and I know they can’t interest her.
The books were my father’s, and when I returned from Italy, he would force me to read them because he wanted me to have an analytical business mind that would benefit our family. He claimed that because we were Mafioso, we needed to be ten steps ahead of where everyone thought we were.
In a twisted way, it worked. Not for him, though.
I walk past the empty living room but stop when I see a box on the table in the vast foyer. Quickly, I make my way to it, and a knowing smile spreads on my face. I grab the box and head towards our room when I hear laughter from the kitchen.
It doesn’t take much for me to recognize the laughter as Echo’s, but I wonder if the reason for her laughter is Vlad. Jealousy starts to snake its way into my chest, but I stop it. When I had assigned Vlad to guard her, I had figured that the gigantic brute wouldn’t say much to her, if anything at all. He’s always quiet around me and has only ever spoken with Gio. I should be content that she has one friend or ally in this life– That she wasn't alone when I deserted her to purge her out of my system.
But I can’t. The fact that Vlad is being rewarded with her unguarded laughter irks me.
“Bellissima.”
I enter the kitchen with an unphased air and walk to Echo, who is sitting at the kitchen island that extends from almost one end of the kitchen to the other. Vlad, standing on the side of the island to Echo’s right, straightens. The relaxed look on his face tenses up, but he doesn’t say anything. Across from them, Viviana stands at the stove smiling, but grows quiet, also. The aroma of food wafts into my nose, and though I’m not familiar with it, I recognize the scent of a promising meal. After the ordeal at the condo, I told Viviana to cook anything that Echo wants since our shared goal is to get her to eat.
Even with me having to pester her to take her nausea pills, she still battles keeping things down the majority of the time. I’ve given up trying to get her to eat only healthy foods, but I am happy when she eats. I also provide her with crushed ice from a fast food restaurant she claims to love.
“Dami.”
Unbothered by my entrance, Echo smiles up at me as I near her, and I see she’s slicing green peppers. “Are you done for the day?”
I’m tempted to say I’m not. “I can be. Do you need me?”
She smiles again. “No, not at all. I’m teaching Viviana to make my grandmother’s Jamaican curry recipe.”
Viviana turns to regard me over her shoulder with a brief nod, and I return it. In all the time Viviana has worked for me, we have barely held a conversation, let alone been in the same space for more than two minutes. Typically, she comes in, cooks, then leaves without any trace left behind in the kitchen. When it was just me at the house, she usually didn’t have to cook because I was gone before she was due to report for work and came home after she was done for the night.
“Chicken curry?” I ask.
As popular as the recipe is, I’ve never had it.
Echo shakes her head. “Lamb.”
I grimace. There’s something about lamb that I don’t care for, but I don’t want to voice that to Echo. “Is that what you’re craving right now?”
“I dreamt about it last night, then told Vlad this morning, and he told Viviana.”
She seems happier than I’ve ever seen her, and I absorb the good energy that she’s vibrating with.
“Of course, if I’m going to make it like her grandmother, I must know how she made it.”
Viviana chuckles.
“Only she added an ingredient too early.”
Viviana shrugs nonchalantly, and both she and Echo chuckle. A moment later, she looks at the box in my hand. “What’s that?”
“Oh, yes.”
I extend the box to her, then remember she’s cutting vegetables and place it in front of her. “It’s for you. It’s an e-reader. Something you can buy books online from and read them.”
For a long moment, she regards me in silence. The uncertainty in her eyes that I’m giving her something out of the kindness of my heart seems to unsettle her. “Really?”
she asks me.
I nod. “See for yourself. I just figured that the books from my office can’t really interest you, and according to Michael, my assistant, this is the best alternative.”
She nods. “Did you buy it, or did Michael?”
I’m quiet, uncertain now if I should be offended that she doesn’t think I’m capable of buying her anything without help. After a second, a smile comes back on her face, and the tension I didn’t know I was feeling leaves. “You’re intolerable.”
Echo shrugs. “I know.”
Her expression turns serious. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it and hope you know you’ve made a grave mistake giving me power over my reading.”
Relief floods me, and I lean forward and kiss her before I think about it. Though her shock is evident when her body tenses up, Echo eventually relaxes into it and returns the kiss before we pull apart. I gently cup her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Bringing you happiness could never be a mistake.”
I grant her one last peck on the lips, then pull away and head for the kitchen doorway.
Bit by bit, she’s coming alive in my household, and I’m eager to see her blossom.
It’s strange to think that a few months ago, I would never have imagined myself feeling the peace I do with another person, especially with someone that has a dark past like Echo. It seems even more awkward that we’re in a comfortable enough position to show affection towards each other around people. When I was with Keyshia, I was young and showed kindness to her when we were out, but I still thought that showing any emotion was a weakness.
With Echo, I don’t care. If she needed me to bring her the moon and requested it, I would do it.
People’s thoughts about it be damned.
Heading back to my office, I reach for the door handle when it opens, and Gio stops. Startled briefly, he steps back into the room, ushering me in before he closes the door. “I was just coming to find you.”
This can’t be good.
“Come.”
Calmly, Gio follows me to my desk, where I sit behind it, and he takes the seat across. There’s a dark cloud over his persona that’s not normal, and I want to ask what is going on, but I know Gio will tell me eventually. Sitting across from him, I see how much he looks like our father when he’s brooding, and it’s uncanny that although we know he’s an actual Bianchi, he can’t claim it.
Yet, he doesn’t care.
According to Gio, he doesn’t want the full responsibility tied to the name.
And I don’t blame him.
“What’s going on?”
I ask after he takes too long to get to the point.
Gio sighs. “Marino called me last night, but when I answered, he hung up.”
I frown. “You called him back, right?”
The apparent look I receive makes me want to laugh, but I don’t. It wouldn’t have felt natural if I didn’t ask.
“Yes, I did.”
Gio nods. “It went to voicemail. So, I texted him, and no response.”
Pensive, I bite my bottom lip, looking away. Once I realize what I’m doing, I stop. When I was a child, it was a nervous habit. I would bite my lip for everything until it bled.
I look back at Gio. “That’s not normal for Marino.”
“I agree.”
He stands, coming to me. “So, I went to his office, but nothing seemed off.”
He shows me his phone.
I take in the video I’m watching, and when he goes over Marino’s desk, we look at each other. “It’s too clean.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
Gio agrees. He puts his phone away and returns to his seat. “Now I’m having Sims dig into Marino’s last whereabouts.”
“What about Renee?”
The mention of Marino’s wife pales Gio’s face, and I frown at his reaction.
He controls it after a moment. “She doesn’t know anything. I also asked her, and she said he told her he had some business to take care of a week ago and would be out of town.”
It doesn’t make sense.
“She hasn’t heard from him?”
Gio shakes his head. “No. Renee said she doesn’t contact Marino when he’s out because he doesn’t like it, but he hasn’t called her yet. She’s gone for as long as a month, not hearing from him when he’s working on a case.”
“That doesn’t help out any,”
I say. I try to think of the best way to get ahold of Marino. I know his daughters are in college, and he wouldn’t bother them because he’d want them to focus on school. That would leave his wife, Renee, the only person who might know something. But if she hasn’t heard from him, we have little choice.
“I don’t like the idea of Sims looking for Marino, but he’s our only source right now that may be able to get us results since you already recruited him.”
Gio nods, a solemn expression on his face. “I tried to act quickly. It concerned me when I got no response, then saw his office.”
Rightfully so.
I sigh. My hand moves up to my scalp, where I scratch it carelessly from stress. If I didn’t have a head full of hair, I’m sure I would be bald from the immense stress I handle daily.
This entire thing is going to shit.
Granted, when I first hired Marino to investigate Echo, I wanted him to find something that would connect all the pieces of her past. Or something that would stop me from being drawn to her. Now it doesn’t matter. When I spoke to him in Italy, I should have told him not to worry about it, but because I had just woken up and been surprised by his call, I hadn’t thought to tell him not to worry about it. Regardless of what I learn about Echo now, she’s not going anywhere. Her being pregnant has nothing to do with it.
The minute she became Bianchi, she was going nowhere.
Possibly before that.
Gio clears his throat and brings me out of my thoughts. “I’ll keep you updated. I just wanted to let you know what happened.”
“Of course.”
Simultaneously, we stand and sigh. Gio looks at me. “How is she?”
I figure he’s asking about Echo. We haven’t had much time to discuss her ordeal since the condo. “She’s better. She hates that she can’t work out until we see Benicio again, but Vlad and Viviana have distracted her.”
“The men are getting antsy.”
I know.
Without saying anything, I walk to the bar in my office and pour two glasses of scotch. “Tell them it will be fine.”
Even though I say it, I’m unsure if things will be fine. The threat of an impending war between the families has us all on edge, but the last thing I need is my men becoming trigger-happy when we’re already under a microscope.
“I have,”
Gio confirms.
“Good. If they have questions, tell them to come see me.”
At my response, Gio chuckles. Even if they have questions, the men wouldn’t dare to voice them to me. A perk in being the next in line is that the men have heard stories about my past, and others have witnessed it, but they all know that I will do what I have to. Simply because I’m not killing people left and right doesn’t mean that I won’t.
They just have to know the right buttons to push.