Chapter 22 Valentino
“Remind me again why we’ve invested in some obscure medical company no one’s ever heard about?” Luciano asks as he barges into my study.
It’s been a month since I had that fateful call with Declan Reeves. I didn’t know things could move so quickly in the world of acquisitions and boardroom manipulations—the man is showing me a slice of the world I suspected existed yet didn’t really have a clue about, all things considered. And really, why would I? That’s white-collar stuff. We don’t deal in such shenanigans. Our families are blue collar, in the big scheme of things. Heads of Borgata flirt with different heights, but ultimately, what makes us strong is the boots on the ground. Strongly blue-collar folk there. While some bosses do peddle in this kind of transactional game, it’s not generally our purview.
Except, I myself am about to wade into those waters. Never thought I’d ever have to. There’s a semblance of legitimacy we need in order for our world to flow along smoothly. We operate in the dark—and not the shadows and shady corners like Declan Reeves—yet when the light of day hits us, it has to look a certain way, pass muster.
I can’t hide from the fact I’m going into this white-collar shit now to get back at a certain person who doesn’t even deserve to be called human. Ultimately, I’m protecting our collective asses—none of us, including the syndicate, wants another RICO landing on us—but this is, at the very baseline, personal.
I sit back in my chair and nod at the one across from me. My brother sighs and sits down.
“So?” Luciano asks, eyebrows raised.
I shake my head. “What’s with the beard?”
His hand comes up to smooth over the hairs on his jaw and chin. To his credit, it has filled in somewhat, and he’s keeping it neat. I don’t want to admit it, but it suits him. Breaks that goody-two-shoes impression he always gives anyone with his clean-cut looks and wide eyes.
“We’re not discussing that,” he mutters.
“You lost a bet or something?” I can’t help but tease.
Luciano and I used to be close. Marco was my first playmate, us being the same age, but Luciano was a close second. I was barely two when he came. By the time Marco and I were five, Luciano was three and able to follow us into all our adventures, no matter how ill-advised. He had a tendency to tattle on us at first, then he learned to keep his mouth shut when we started side-lining him. I chuckle—he took his own version of Omertà to me then, and he’s never let me down.
“Can we please leave my facial hair out of this?” he grumbles.
Ooh, touchy subject. I’ll let him off the hook. For now.
“Where’s Luka?”
“Daycare, you stronzo.”
I wince. My mind hasn’t been in the family game lately. It’s a weekday; of course, the kid would be in school.
“What about you? Finished with that car you were salivating over? What was it, a 1967 Chevy Impala?”
Luciano narrows his dark eyes on me. I’ve never let my younger siblings make me squirm, so what’s happening today?
“You’re doing everything to sidestep my question, Val.”
Touché.
“So,” Luciano continues. “Why are we buying into some medical company no one’s ever heard of? They make breathing apparatus. Not even ventilators, and those could bring in a profit, somewhat.”
He’s not going to let this go. Luciano knows when to defer to me—this is what makes him a formidable ally and the one positioned to be my second in command when I took the reins. It was our padre’s plan. I haven’t implemented it yet. This all landed on us completely out of the blue when he was murdered. But my brother is also like a hungry dog with a bone when he wants to be, and something tells me this is one such moment.
I sigh and stand, moving to the sideboard to get us both a glass of whisky.
“I’m driving,” he argues when I set his drink in front of him.
“No, you’re not. Luka’s not going to be done for another few hours, and if you want to know what’s going on, you’ll stick with me today. Carlito’s driving.”
“Merda,” he curses, then eyes the glass like its vermin.
“Are you going to start growing your hair and go vegan and all hipster who doesn’t drink a drop of alcohol on us or what?” I ask as I sit back down.
Another curse drops from his lips as he glares at me then grabs the glass and takes a sip.
“BeathaAnáil,” he says, staring straight at me. “What the fuck’s going on with that?”
There’s no way out for me. At some point, the important people in my organization would have to be drawn into the confidence, so why not now?
Yet, I know why not. There’s a crucial revelation I don’t want to disclose. But I’ll have to.
I gulp down the whisky and tap the glass down hard on the desk. “I’m seeing Naomi Smith.”
“What?” Luciano stares at me with wide eyes, then he downs his glass in one gulp, too. “Fuck me.”
I sigh. “I know you’ll say it’s a bad idea—”
“It’s a terrible idea!”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know who her father is. Yes, I know she’s much younger than me. Yes, I know—”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? What if he comes to know about it? He already has it in for us. For you!”
His recriminations are making me lose my patience. “And I’m going to take him down.”
“How?”
“I’ve already started.”
“By fucking his daughter?”
“Shut your mouth.”
He frowns. “You like her.”
I want to look away. Victor is the sensitive one in our family, but Luciano always saw things. When I was fourteen, I was concerned about finding out what lay hidden in a girl’s panties. At the same age, he was going straight for the heart of the girl he’d end up marrying.
“You’re even falling in love with her,” he continues.
If his tone hadn’t been soft and almost reverent, I would’ve scoffed. But I can’t. Frustration builds up inside me, and I run my hands over my face.
“I don’t know if I’m that far gone,” I tell him.
The etching of a smile plays on his lips. “You’re on the way.”
“Somehow, you’d know this, wouldn’t you, Dr. Love?”
“We’re resorting to name-calling now, huh?” He gives me a chin nod when I stay silent. “And how does she feel?”
I shrug. The memory of our last kiss in the apartment in Tribeca flitters in, and I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong. We’ve hardly texted, let alone called or seen each other since then. I know she tends to get busy when the campaign hits the road, needing to be at her father’s side for his appearances. Anya sends me updates when I can’t bear the feeling of not knowing how Naomi’s doing. It’s comforting, in a way. I know someone is looking out for her. And as far as I’ve ascertained, Thad Billings has disappeared off the face of the Earth.
“Val?” Luciano asks.
I blink out of my thoughts, pushing the concern aside. “We’re taking it slow.”
His frown says he knows I didn’t answer his question, but he nods.
“She’s a good person,” he says.
I nod. “She is.”
“And you’re doing this for her? It does look like going after her father is also going against the current to win her over.”
“She’s not safe with him.”
He sits up straighter. “Tell me.”
I know I can trust my brother, that he’ll step up to stand by my side when I’ll need him as my second in command. So, I tell him about Thad, Anya, Declan Reeves, and finally, the whole truth about Joel Smith.
The disgust grows on his face with my every word. When I’m done, I can feel he’s ready to pick up arms to fight against the like of Naomi’s father.
“How does BeathaAnáil fall into this?” he asks.
“Joel Smith and many of his backers sit on the board of the Benedict Hospital. There’s been shady stuff going on there, and Donal O’Brien, who owned BeathaAnáil, held thirteen percent of the shares already. It was our steppingstone to acquiring majority shareholding in that hospital then outing them for whatever’s going on there.”
Luciano’s face has drained of color. I stare at him, perplexed, worry growing inside me. Before I can register what, I’m doing, I’m up, filling his glass with a double, then pushing it into his hand. He gulps it down in one go.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Benedict… That’s where Eliza…” he says and can’t continue.
It hits me like a brick landing in my gut. It’s the same hospital where his wife found out she was sick and where she died. I wasn’t here when my sister-in-law was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. I did a quick hop from Turin to be with Luciano for a few days, then had to head back. The plan was to come back in a few months, but that never happened. I came home for her funeral instead of Easter weekend.
I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
No matter how many times I say it, it feels hollow. I’ll never know what he went through, so everything I offer will come short. Still, I hope he knows he has all of my heart that I can give to him and his precious family.
Luciano stays silent for long seconds.
“They denied her a chance, you know.”
I frown, then go over to sit down next to him. “What do you mean?”
He gulps before speaking. “Her cancer. There was a drug trial starting and that could’ve helped. Her doctor got her on the list, then at the last minute, the hospital said she didn’t fit the eligibility.”
My blood is boiling. I’d adored Eliza. She was such a sweet girl. Too sweet, one would even think, but that’s who she was. She showed me good souls still existed in this rotten world.
“We’ll find who did this,” I tell him. “That hospital will be ours soon, and we’ll find the bastards responsible.”
Luciano looks at me with eyes heavy with pain and also murderous intent. Good. This is the determinized drive I need from him. Anything but the dead emptiness that’d been in his whole being when she passed and left him with an eighteen-month-old toddler on his hands.
I’m powered by this fire all throughout the day, Luciano by my side like a dark vigilante as we make moves on capitalizing on our shareholding of the Benedict.
A ray of light finally hits my world when a text comes in late in the afternoon.
Naomi: Come see me.
Me: What’s not on the menu?
My elation turns into a frown when she fails to respond after a full minute…then it blows out into full blown panic when the next text turns up.
Naomi: Anything you don’t want to be. wink emoji
That’s not our code.
That’s not her texting me.
I dial Anya’s number and dive in as soon as she picks up.
“Where’s Naomi?”
“In Essex County, with the whole delegation.”
“You’re not with her?”
“Not today, no. Why?”
I force myself to breathe. “Someone’s got her phone. Tried to text me to meet her.”
She hisses in a breath. “You sure it’s not her?”
“Positive,” I bite out.
“Okay, let me look into this. And don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”
This woman! She makes me want to wring her neck sometimes. “We need to tell—”
“I’m on it. Leave it to me.”
She cuts the call, and I can’t do anything but wait. An hour passes, then another. I’m going out of my mind wondering what’s happened to Naomi.
Then Anya calls.
“Yes?”
“Not here. Meet me in Tribeca.”
I don’t wait for Carlito. Instead, I pour myself into my Ferrari and power out onto the road to New York.
I’m punching the code to move the elevator up just under an hour later, emerging into the apartment like a caged bull finally let free.
“Where is she?” I yell.
I frown when I notice a man sitting on the couch. Dark hair slicked back, wire-frame glasses on his long nose, pinstripe suit not an inch askew on his thin frame. What the hell is Carson Felix doing here?
Anya comes out from the bedroom, and I beeline to her with long strides eating up the distance.
“Where is she?” I ask again.
“Valentino, Naomi’s been taken.”