Chapter 41
Chapter Forty One
Antonio
Vito’s place, just like Giovanni’s, is on the same floor as mine. Just on the other side of the hallway.
It’s as normal as normal comes, which is kind of surprising for him, because looking at him, you’d expect something a bit more spartan. More built for function.
But it just looks like the apartment of a single man who’s surprisingly neat.
There’s a worn leather sectional that’s seen late-night games and too many takeout dinners. A big TV mounted across from it, a throw blanket half-folded over the armrest, a stack of mail on the console by the door, a bowl with keys and loose change.
On the wall, framed photos caught in candid moments: kids on shoulders, someone laughing mid-toast, a holiday table too crowded for the camera to capture all at once.
The kitchen is open to the living room in that open concept kind of way. Clean counters, a coffee maker. Everything else put away in cupboards or drawers.
The curtains are open. Daylight pours in from the windows and turns the wood floor warm. Luca is near the island with his hands braced on the stone, head slightly bowed like he’s listening to something only he can hear.
Giovanni is standing at the window silently. Vito paces, then forces himself to stop, leaning against the counter. Roberto sits in a chair with his jacket still on, posture tight, expression hard. He wants to get this done so he can get back home to Olivia and Isabella.
Isabella is hardly three months old, and he thought it would be safer if he didn’t drag them out into public spaces with Bellandi stirring up trouble.
Nico’s face peers out from the tablet propped on the counter because he’s not here. He’s not even in the country. He and his still-very-new wife, Erica, were taking the opportunity to make up for the fact that they hadn’t had a honeymoon, so they took off to Conti Cay, our private island.
As soon as he heard what happened, he was ready to jump on the plane and come home, but I convinced him not to. I told him to stay where he is. Not that we couldn’t use him, but it’s better that they’re out of the way of any danger. Especially with Erica being pregnant.
This meeting is about what comes next.
Luca finally breaks the silence.
“Bellandi doesn’t get Northstar,” he says, certainty in his voice.
Roberto nods. “Even if we don’t get it.”
“Especially if we don’t,” Giovanni adds quietly.
Roberto’s fingers flex once on his knee. “Any movement from Bellandi since the Northstar incident?”
“Not in Jersey,” Vito says. “Nothing on our perimeter. But we’ve got eyes on Northstar’s building and exits.”
“What about the other execs?” Nico’s voice comes through the tablet speaker.
Vito exhales through his nose. “We had four confirmed inside Northstar. Two outside. One spotter in a vehicle half a block out—we took care of him on the spot.
We have Vanni’s team on the board and CEO, but there hasn’t been a sighting of any of them in the area since.”
“Which means the focus isn’t on any of them.” Luca’s gaze flicks to me.
“No, it’s on Elsa,” I say quietly. “Whatever they have planned has to do with her.”
“They were already denied the acquisition,” Giovanni says. “What’s the point in continuing to come after her? You said you heard them talk about getting rid of her because she’s no longer useful, but all this for what? Revenge? It seems like a stretch.”
“They obviously have something else planned,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about it. Elsa made the recommendation not to go ahead with the acquisition with Bellandi. She can still change her mind, though.”
“How is shooting at her going to make that happen?” Vito asks.
“It wasn’t just her in that car,” Nico says. “It was you two as well. Maybe they were hoping to grab her and take you two out as well. Two birds with one stone.”
Giovanni’s fingers curl into his palm. “Elsa will never be safe as long as they think she can swing the outcome.”
“Then we need to take it out of her hands,” I say.
“How? Northstar chose her for a reason, and Bellandi knows how highly they regard her opinions,” Nico says, his voice a bit scratchy from unstable service.
Thinking out loud, I murmur, “We sour the deal.”
“What?” Giovanni asks, leaning forward.
“We sour the deal,” I repeat, louder.
“How do we do that?” Vito scoffs.
“Legally,” Roberto says, sitting up, having the same realization I just did. “Ah, Antonio. See what happens when you use the head on your shoulders and not the one in your pants?”
“The head in my pants is the reason I’ve got a supermodel in my bed, so I think I’m doing all right,” I say smugly.
Giovanni frowns. “What are you suggesting?”
"What can we do to them, that they can't do to sour Northstar on us?" Vito asks, unimpressed.
“We didn’t put a team inside their building to try to take a key player off the board,” Roberto says. “That’s not just competition. That’s criminal conduct.”
“And we’ve got a couple of idiots in a hallway who made it very easy to prove,” I say, turning to Vito. “Tell me you recorded the comms while Elsa and I were escaping Northstar.”
Vito smirks.
“What do you think?”