Chapter 19
Antonio
As Enzo pulls up at the hospital, my phone rings for the hundredth time today. I look at the screen and groan. It’s Piotr Reznov again. I’ve ignored his calls for three days, but he’s persistent. I suppose, considering what happened with his uncle, I should be grateful the Russian hasn’t kicked down my front door looking for me. In his shoes, I’d be out for blood.
Deciding I’ve put off what’s bound to be an unpleasant conversation for long enough, I swipe to answer the call.
“Give me a minute,” I tell him before lowering the phone.
I get out of the car, then turn and lean in to speak to Enzo. “Take the rest of the day off.”
“You sure, boss?”
I nod. “My brothers are here. One of them can drive me. Go spend some time with Alicia.”
Enzo smiles. “Thanks, boss. I appreciate it.”
I nod and shut the door. Just because my marriage is teetering on the brink, it doesn’t mean I want everyone else’s turning to crap. It’s not pure altruism that made me give Enzo the day off, though. If the men are getting shit at home, it distracts them. I need my people to have their heads one hundred percent in the game. It’s hypocritical. My mind isn’t entirely on business at the moment.
As Enzo drives the gray Mercedes away, I lift the phone to my ear. “Reznov.”
“Three days you ignore my calls and then you keep me waiting.” His Russian accent is very slight, but becomes more pronounced when he’s irritated. It’s his only tell. The man gives little of what he’s thinking away.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” My tone is completely unapologetic.
“What happened between you and my uncle must be addressed.”
“What do you want?” I enter the hospital and head for the Stanhope Wing. “You want to come punch me in the face?”
“It was more than that,” Piotr snarls. “You broke his nose, fractured his cheekbone. He has a concussion.”
Fuck! I knew I’d hit him hard, but I didn’t think I’d done that much damage. I’m amazed he could walk away. The Russian fuck must still be in pretty good shape.
“So, what do we do about that? You want to go to war over one beating?”
“If it was me, I’d be out for blood, but my uncle demands I keep the peace. It seems love has made him soft.”
“You think he loves my mother?”
“I know he does.” Piotr huffs out a breath. “So we must find a more civilized way to settle this.”
“Such as?”
“We will meet to determine that.”
“Fine.” I reach the elevators. “When?”
“In the next few weeks. Business can wait until your brother is out of the hospital.”
It surprises me he’s not demanding an immediate sit down. That he’s waiting because he knows I need to focus on my family shows a level of decency I didn’t realize he possessed.
“I appreciate that.”
“One last thing.”
I heave in a breath, wondering what else Piotr has to say.
“My men picked up chatter about one of your men. He claims you had his son murdered because he was fucking your wife.”
Fuck! He’s talking about Paolo Mancini. I am going to have to do something about that before it gets out of hand. Muttering my thanks to Piotr, I end the call and press the button for the elevator. It arrives almost immediately and I make my way to Gio, bypassing the waiting room. The minute I heard my youngest brother had regained consciousness, I raced over here. Nothing is going to stop me from seeing him.
As I push open the door to his room, I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. There’s color in Gio’s cheeks once more. Don’t get me wrong, he still looks like shit, but his complexion has improved. He doesn’t appear so close to death anymore.
My mother, who’s sitting by the bedside, rises to her feet. She smiles at Gio and pats his hand. “I’ll give you and your brother a moment to talk.”
As she turns to me, her demeanor changes. There’s a distinct chill in her expression as she walks past me.
“Don’t leave the hospital.” My words come out more as a threat than a plea.
She nods stiffly. I hate her acting so cold. My mother is one of the warmest people I know, but I’ve hurt her and as much as it pains me, I’m going to have to make it right.
“What was that about?” Gio’s voice is raspy after having a tube down his throat for the last couple of days.
“Nothing for you to worry about.” Ignoring the skeptical arching of his eyebrow, I move closer to the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like some asshole shot me three times. Do you know who did it?”
“Gino di Santo.”
Gio furrows his brow, obviously trying to work out who that is.
“The chef Leo fired from Roma.”
“Huh. What happened to him?”
“He ate a bullet. Left a note saying he was sorry he got the wrong brother.”
“That’s got to be embarrassing for you, right? The youngest brother of the great and powerful Antonio Volante, ambushed by a fucking chef and you don’t even get to dish out punishment.”
The snark in his tone tells me what happened hasn’t made him any less resentful of the family he’s been steadily distancing himself from.
“You still want out?” As hard as I try, I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice.
“Don’t take it personally, Tony.” Gio takes a deep breath and winces in pain that he quickly recovers from. “I love my family, but the life isn’t for me.”
“You still want to go to Scotland?”
He nods. “I won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon, but yeah, it’s what I want.”
“Then I won’t try to stop you. As soon as you’re able, you have my blessing to go do whatever you need to do.”
“Thanks, Tony.” He closes his eyes.
“I’ll let you get some rest.”
Reaching out, I squeeze his shoulder, then leave him in peace. I head for the waiting room, where I find a tense atmosphere. My mother is sitting at one side of the room while Leo and Alessandro occupy the wing-backed armchairs at the other.
“Where’s Matteo?”
“Meeting a supplier,” Alessandro says.
That’s right. Matteo is standing in for me at a meeting with one of our Irish contacts today. I guess it doesn’t matter that he’s not here. I know where he stands on the whole Boris Reznov issue. He’s ready to support our mother, no matter what she chooses.
“We need to talk,” I tell my mother as I go to sit next to her. Behind me, I hear my brothers getting to their feet. I turn to see them heading for the door. “All of us.”
My mother purses her lips. “Ganging up, Antonio?”
I shake my head. “No, but we need to sort things out.”
She nods curtly. Alessandro and Leo cross the room to sit with us.
“Tell us about Boris Reznov. What is this thing between you?”
It’s clear from the defiant tilt of her chin that my mother expects me to lay down the law. Usually I would, but Isabella made me realize I need to think about my mother’s feelings.
“I love him and he loves me.” She fixes me with a determined glare. “There is nothing wrong with that.”
“So why sneak around?” Leo asks.
“Because it’s exciting.”
The lure of the forbidden is hard to resist, but I doubt that’s the only reason she kept her relationship from us. “And?”
“I knew you’d make a big deal out of it.”
Alessandro snorts. “It is a big deal. Boris Reznov is not some ordinary Joe.”
My mother smiles mirthlessly. “You’d prefer it if I dated Vito from the bakery, perhaps. He’s always had a soft spot for me.”
“No.” Alessandro shakes his head.
“Or would you prefer I spend the rest of my life alone while you all settle down and raise your own families?”
I scrub a hand over my face. When she puts it like that, I realize how selfish I’ve been to think my mother would remain single.
“Okay, we get it.” I look to my brothers and they both nod. “But why Boris Reznov?”
“In part, because he reminds me of your father.”
I open my mouth to protest that the Russian is nothing like my father, but my mother holds her hand up to silence me.
“No, listen to me, Antonio. Boris is a powerful man. He has a sense of honor and cares deeply for his family. But our relationship is not like the one I had with your father. I’ve never had something like this before.”
“You saying you didn’t love Dad?” Leo sounds pained at the very thought our parents didn’t adore each other as much as they seemed to.
“Of course I did, but when we married, I was young. I was given no choice in the matter.”
“Mamma.” Alessandro moves to the seat next to her and puts his arm around her.
“It’s okay, Sandro.” She pats his knee reassuringly. “I grew to love him so much. We had a good life, an incredible life together, but there was no courtship. He didn’t win my hand with flowers and chocolates or walks in the park. Even when we were married, he didn’t scatter rose petals on the bed or cook my favorite meals.”
“So romance is what you’re looking for.” I should have known since she views her sons’ relationships through a rose-tinted lens. “There are plenty of men who can give you that. Safer men.”
“No, Antonio, what I’m looking for is a man who makes me feel like the center of his world, who takes my breath away with a single glance. I want a man who makes me weak at the knees, who shows me I’m still a desirable woman.”
I shift uncomfortably, not wanting to think about that aspect of their relationship.
“Did he ever ask you about business?”
My mother scoffs. “You think so little of me? You think I wouldn’t see through a man who was trying to use me?”
I shrug because I really don’t know the answer.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” she rages. “We agreed on day one not to discuss business. I know how this world works and when to keep my mouth shut. I am Marco Volante’s widow. Don’t you dare forget it.”
When her temper rises, my mother is formidable. Faced with her anger, I don’t feel like a notorious mob boss. I’m a son who’s disappointed his mamma.
“He’s planning to stand down.” My mother’s revelation catches me off guard. “He’s handing the reins to Piotr.”
I share a look with my brothers. We’re all wondering the same thing. Is Piotr Reznov’s ascension good or bad for us? Only time will tell.
“He’s doing that for you?” Alessandro asks.
“He is.”
If Reznov is prepared to step down, his feelings for my mother are obviously the real deal.
“Okay.” I nod resolutely. “You’re a grown woman. You know your own mind. If Boris Reznov is the man you want, I can live with it.”
“Thank you, Antonio.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Does that go for the rest of you?”
Alessandro and Leo both murmur their assent. My mother stands and opens her arms wide. We all rush into her embrace.
“I love you boys so much. Nobody will ever mean more to me than you.”
There’s a moment of awkwardness as we step out of the hug and just stare at each other. None of us are good with emotionality. We stand there, not knowing what to say until Leo finally breaks the silence. “I won’t call him Daddy.”
Alessandro snorts with laughter. “It’s Papa, surely. That’s what some Russians call their Pakhan, right?”
I shake my head at the thought of addressing the Russian billionaire as Papa and laugh. Then my phone chirps with a message from Matteo, asking me to meet him downstairs in the cafeteria.
“I’ll be back later.” I lean in to kiss my mother’s cheek. “If Gio needs anything, let me know.”
Texting Matteo that I’m on my way, I head downstairs. I hope he’s not about to tell me there was a problem with the Irish MC who supplies some of the weapons my men use. When I get to the cafeteria, my heart sinks. I suspect the issue my brother needs to talk to me about is more personal. He’s sitting at a table by the window, opposite our younger sister.
As I pass Olivia’s bodyguard, Jimmy, I nod in acknowledgement. After being horribly disfigured in an acid attack while protecting my sister, he should have taken my father’s offer and retired. The man has paid his dues. But he refuses to leave Olivia’s side. Loyalty like that is to be admired.
When I get to the table where my siblings are sitting, my stomach drops. For once in her life, Olivia isn’t wearing makeup. Her fresh face makes her appear young and innocent but also reveals the dark circles beneath her eyes, the tear streaks on her cheeks. Why do I feel like I’ve just put out one fire only for another one to be lit?
“What’s going on?” I demand.
Olivia gives a delicate hiccup. Matteo reaches across the table and grabs her hand. “It’s okay, Livvy. Just tell Tony what you told me.”
I brace myself for whatever shit my family is about to unleash on me now. Olivia sucks in a breath and looks up at me, refusing to meet my eye. “It’s about Isabella.”