Chapter 21
KARINA
I’m having some serious doubts about the role I agreed to play at the family dinner tonight, but unfortunately, there’s no turning back now.
Dante’s master plan might be our last chance at taking down Uncle Sergio…
before the Bellantis have no choice left but to execute every last Bruno in a blaze of glory.
Although I guess Armani would be happy if it did come down to that.
I pray it won’t, though. I don’t want any more people dying in this war.
Marco had gone to his brothers for help—without my knowledge—a few days after I told him about the transmitter in my ring.
When he initially texted me on my brand new burner phone to say they’d had a conversation about the situation, I panicked.
But then Marco explained, via a very lengthy (but silent) string of further texts, that his brothers weren’t angry at me for being forced to spy for my uncle, and that Dante had come up with a plan.
At first, I was convinced that there was no way the Bellantis could pull it off.
And even if they could, I was afraid that my uncle would kill my mother to punish me for tipping off the Bellantis to begin with.
But Marco assured me that Uncle Sergio would be in jail after the raid, and that my mom would be safe.
She’d even have time to get out of town with my dad once and for good if she was smart.
Though I’m honestly not sure she’ll have the guts to do it—her life with Uncle Sergio is all she knows.
Still, I can hope. Maybe seeing her big brother go to jail will be enough to convince Mom that she can’t just sit around living in fear of him forever.
After Marco and I hashed it all out and he addressed all my concerns, I finally started to feel better. For the first time, it seemed like I’d done the right thing by telling him the truth.
So here goes nothing. My mission isn’t complicated or difficult. I just have to pretend like I don’t know anything during the Bellantis’ conversation around the dinner table. Easy peasy. Oh, and I also have to act like I’m tipsy. That’s a detail I can definitely get on board with.
As the kitchen staff set dishes on the table and start filling wine glasses, I take advantage of the opportunity to drain my first glass in a hurry.
Marco lifts a dubious brow when I hold up my glass for an instant refill.
“Don’t judge me,” I mouth silently.
He shrugs. Frankie notices our exchange from across the table and grins in amusement. I lift my freshly refilled glass in a toast to her and she follows suit with her water glass.
Livvie and Mrs. Abbott aren’t here tonight, but Charlie is.
Her husband is out of town, so she’s been over at the house a lot lately, which seems to be putting Frankie in an extra good mood.
It’s hard not to be jealous of the sister bond they have, but they’ve made every effort to include me.
Unfortunately, I’ve mostly had to decline their invites.
Thanks to this stupid ring, I’ve resigned myself to being a social leper, even in my own home.
Once we’ve served ourselves, the usual mix of casual family chatter buzzes pleasantly in the room, along with the clanking of utensils and glassware.
I loudly compliment the wine and make sure to use my left hand every time I pick up my glass, just to be sure the transmitter in my ring will relay the fact that I’m drinking far more enthusiastically than I usually would.
Fact: my uncle has allowed me one glass of wine at dinner ever since I turned eighteen, per Italian custom. But the kind of shitfaced I’m pretending to be tonight? Definitely not my norm.
Marco reaches under the table and puts his hand on my thigh. His touch instantly calms me, though it’s short-lived. There’s so much at stake with this plan. My uncle is ruthless, and we’ve all experienced what can happen when things don’t go his way. What if we fail?
No. I can’t afford to think like that. I shake my head as if it will clear out all the anxious thoughts I’m having and then let out a slow, measured breath. I’ve got this. We’ve all got this.
Charlie turns to me and starts telling me all about the baby shower she’s organizing for Frankie. I’m happy to offer my assistance, and soon enough we’re both getting excited about color schemes and cake options, and Charlie is pulling up ideas for party games on her phone.
Just then, Armani raises his glass, clearing his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention.
“Salute,” he says in toast. “I’m glad we’re all here tonight. We have much to discuss.”
My stomach drops. Shit. I take a deep, steadying breath and keep my left hand perfectly still on the table. Game on.
“Perfect,” Dante replies easily. “I’ve been wanting to get caught up on the details.”
I look between the men as I have another drink and then launch into one of my usual covers. “This sounds like shop talk. Maybe Frankie and Charlie and I should move to the living room, leave you boys to it.”
“No, no,” Armani commands. “Stay. This is a family matter, and everyone needs to be involved.”
He lazily winks at me. Wow. That’s a first.
I nod, then remember I have to relay information to my ring. “I don’t know…I’m actually not feeling all that well. I’ve had this headache—”
“I insist,” he cuts me off firmly. Then he begins running through all the latest numbers from the winery and the tasting room.
The conversation starts off innocently enough…
but that’s only because it’s the warm-up for the main event.
Frankie chimes in here and there regarding the status of the vines and explaining the dips and hikes in the sales figures for certain varieties of wine, and then I jump in with my own good news about how Candi was able to get Bellanti Vineyards’ pinot noir included in a bougie wine-of-the-month subscription club.
Finally, we’re finished with our meals. I mostly just push my food around on my plate, since I’m too wound up to actually eat.
Armani gestures for the staff to clear the table and pours himself a brandy, still chatting with Frankie about her plans to put together a new seasonal menu for the tasting room that will specifically complement some of the higher-end wines that haven’t been selling as well.
“About the other business, now,” Armani says, refilling his brandy and offering the bottle to his brothers.
Dante pours a generous drink for himself, but Marco declines. He squeezes my thigh under the table again. We share a brief look, but it doesn’t calm my nerves this time.
“What about it?” Marco says. “We’re still waiting to hear back from our associate in Berlin, no?”
“Big news, little brother. It’s a done deal,” Dante says, his voice getting louder thanks to his obvious excitement.
“No shit,” Marco says, sounding a little in awe.
“No shit,” Armani repeats. “We are one hundred percent back in business.”
“Oh, wow. This is huge,” Frankie says, sounding like she’s trying to hide her nerves about this faux development.
He and Dante raise their glasses of brandy, Marco joining in with his water, and then they clink and tip back their cups.
I pretend to take another drink and exaggerate the sound so it can be heard through my ring. “Well, gentlemen. This all sounds quite thrilling, but I’m going to call it a night.”
I stand and walk toward the door. I’ve purposely been excusing myself from all of the Bellantis’ important conversations ever since my uncle bugged my ring, and I have to keep in line with my past actions so as not to raise suspicion. The reluctant informant. That’s me.
“Sit. The fuck. Down.” Armani locks eyes with me.
He nods encouragingly, though his icy tone sends a shiver down my spine.
I know he’s playing his part, too, but it definitely doesn’t sound like an act.
“You married Marco, you married into this. No more running away every time you hear something you don’t like.
From now on, you’re gonna be a good little wifey and support your man. Understand?”
“Yes.” The tremor in my voice isn’t acting. I sit.
Charlie pats my hand. Frankie gave her the short version of our plan, and she’s been instructed to mostly keep quiet.
“Tell me more about Berlin,” Dante says. “This is my empire, remember? You should have come to my office as soon as you got word. Don’t sit on that info.”
Armani shrugs. “Wasn’t sitting on it, bro. Otto was waiting to confirm with Volgograd. Literally just got off the phone with the guy. Vertreter is going to run point on the transport—”
I set my wineglass down and knock it noisily against the edge of my plate. The bang of glass on ceramic rings through the room. “Oops. Sorry. My hand slipped.”
Armani pauses and eyes Marco. “Get control of your woman, please.”
“That’s enough wine, Karina,” Marco says sharply.
He winks to soften his words, but I feel nauseous anyway.
“So we’re handling a shipment from Berlin,” Dante says, getting back on topic. “How much are we talking?”
“I told Otto it had to be a generous offer to mitigate the risk we’re taking, given we’ve been out of the game for a while. We haggled some, but settled at three times our usual price.”
Silence pulses through the room. Dante’s nostrils flare, and even though this is all a ruse, I swear the sudden light in his eyes is very real excitement.
“That’s some fun money,” he finally says. “Two mil apiece, less whatever we use to pay off our guys. Maybe Frankie and I can finally take that trip to Abu Dhabi. How’s a first-class residence ticket on Emirates sound?”
“Oh my God!” Frankie squeals with forced glee. “Is that the one where we get our own private compartment with a separate bedroom and a lounge and our own personal chef?”
“That’s the one,” Dante says with a grin. “It can be your push present.”
“When’s all this going down?” Marco asks, leaning forward and steepling his fingers on the table. His expression is so serious that it seems he’s living it up in this moment as well.
I start coughing as loudly as I can, but Armani just gives me a nod and raises his voice as he says, “Day after tomorrow. One a.m. And get your wife some water, for fuck’s sake.”
Marco hands me his water glass, which I take a few loud sips of.
“I’m fine!” I say. “I’m so tired, though. Marco, shouldn’t we get to bed?”
“Shh, in a minute,” he says dismissively.
“We were talking logistics,” Dante reminds us all, exuding a serious yet calm strength that’s somehow both intimidating and reassuring at the same time.
No wonder he’s the patriarch of the Bellanti clan.
Armani might be pulling all the strings (and all the triggers), but Dante is definitely running the show.
Marco is all passion and fire, Armani’s got that steely deadliness to him.
But the oldest Bellanti brother…he’s just got something about him that says “in charge.” And even though this conversation is a charade, I can’t help feeling a little in awe of this family.
Their dynamic is so different from my ex-family’s.
Uncle Sergio is a cruel dictator, but the Bellantis are truly a team.
“Where’s receiving?” Marco asks. “Same old?”
Armani grunts in agreement, but before he can say anything, I blurt, “Oh my gosh, Frankie, so tell me all about Abu Dhabi! Have you been before, or would this be your first trip?”
Doing his best to talk over me, Armani raises his voice and answers Marco, his dangerous words tangling with my frivolous ones. “The warehouse, yeah.”
“It would be my first time,” Frankie answers me.
Armani is still saying, “We’ll post three of our security guys to be our muscle and move the cargo, and meanwhile we three will broker the sale and make sure it’s a smooth handoff.”
“Wait, didn’t they go to Abu Dhabi in the second Sex and the City movie?” I practically yell across the table to Frankie, keeping up our chat. “You should go to all the same spots!”
“Yeah, except…I think that movie was actually filmed in Morocco,” she says thoughtfully.
My heart is pounding. I know I’m doing the right thing by interrupting the men—that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. And for this plan to work, my uncle can’t suspect that anything is out of the ordinary. But Dante, Armani, and Marco all look genuinely irritated at me.
Dante’s eyes narrow. “Just like old times,” he says to Armani.
“Only more lucrative,” Armani points out. “I know you had your doubts, Dante, but our reputation is solid as ever. It would’ve been foolish to turn Otto down. We’ve got several interested buyers lined up already.”
“You’ve been busy,” Marco says appreciatively.
“That’s what I do, Marco. I get shit done. The minute I agreed to even think about this deal, I got on the phone. Dad’s old contacts are eager to deal with us. And it’s only gonna get bigger and better after we pull this off. Once people find out we’re back, we’re fucking gold.”
Murmurs of good cheer go around the table, and my blood goes cold.
This isn’t even a real arms deal, and yet…
I can’t help noticing that everyone seems more alive than usual, as if they’re completely invested in jumping right back into all this mob stuff.
Even Marco. Is this what they all secretly want? To carry on their father’s legacy?
“Dante, this isn’t what we agreed on.” Frankie’s voice is firm and lightly chastising. “You said this was going to be a one-time deal.”
“It’s not up for discussion, Francesca. This is between me and my brothers.”
“Dante.”
“Remember your place,” he chastises her.
She rolls her eyes at him and he smiles and takes her hand between his.
“Here’s to being back in business,” Dante says. He pours another round of brandy for himself and Armani and then pours one for Marco, sliding it across the table.
When Dante raises his glass, his brothers follow suit. Then they all drink. I pour myself some more wine, too. They’re not the only ones in the room who are under pressure right now.
Dante and Armani continue talking about small details, paving the way for my uncle to make his own plans to overtake the shipment after he springs an ambush of his own.
This is a dangerous game we’re playing. Both of these families are explosive forces, and I imagine them colliding with the force of an atom bomb.
A shiver races down my spine. I spent my childhood living in a combination of fear and denial of my family’s mafia involvement, and felt so certain it was all behind me when I married Marco.
But now…I’m not so sure. The atmosphere in the room changed so drastically once they started talking about their arms deal.
It’s obvious that something about this world excites them, pulls at their predatory natures.
What happens if this ambush tips them into the full-blown mafia lifestyle again? What if Marco wants back in the game and I become a true mafia wife?
I drain the last of my wine and stare into my empty glass.
Can I handle that?
And even if I could, would I want to?