Chapter 25 Roman
ROMAN
Fucking Salvatore.
He failed to make the appropriate payoffs. Luckily, I got here in time to ensure our shipments got through.
But of course, once that fire was out, another flared up.
I’ve been up for… God, I don’t even know how long.
I really need to crash.
More than that, I need to deal with Isabella.
Isabella.
The image of her sitting with that FBI agent while Angelica plays nearby makes my blood boil all over again. What the hell was she thinking?
With my daughter right there.
La Corona is already watching her every move, and she pulls this shit?
I don't care if she claims she was ambushed. She should have walked away and called me.
"Ginetti, we need you to sign off on these manifests." One of the dock supervisors slides papers across the makeshift desk.
I nod, scrawling my signature without really reading. My mind is elsewhere.
The notebook.
Isabella had said her mother called it insurance.
What the hell is in those pages that could have protected her?
My phone buzzes. Another problem needing my attention. I down my cold coffee and stand.
The sooner I finish here, the sooner I can get home and find out exactly what Isabella has discovered.
I'm grabbing my jacket to leave when Salvatore appears in the doorway of the makeshift office.
His face is set in that permanent scowl he wears whenever Isabella's name comes up.
"Ginetti, we need to talk." He doesn't wait for an invitation, just shuts the door behind him.
I suppress a groan. "I'm heading out, Sal. Whatever it is can wait."
"It's about your wife." He spits the word like it tastes bad. "Word is she's still meeting with the Feds."
My jaw tightens. "I'm handling it."
"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, you're letting a traitor live in your house. Sleep in your bed." He steps closer. "Starting to wonder where your loyalties lie."
The accusation hits like a slap. I move into his space, voice dropping low. "Watch yourself, Sal. I’ve shed more blood for this family than you have. Don't question my loyalty, especially after you nearly fucked up last night’s shipment."
"Why do you protect her? She's nothing but a liability."
"You don’t know shit.”
Salvatore's eyes narrow. "Don't tell me you've fallen for Ferraza's daughter." He jabs a finger at my chest. "La Corona needs you to take action. Make an example of her. Show everyone what happens to traitors."
"Like someone did with Ernie?" I counter, watching his face carefully.
Salvatore pales slightly. “You shut the fuck up about my brother. That has nothing to do with this.”
“Shows what you know, which is shit.”
"If you won't do what's necessary—"
"You'll what?" I cut him off. "Go against Marco's orders? Because he's the one who approved this arrangement. Take it up with him if you've got a problem."
Salvatore's jaw works silently. We both know he won't challenge Marco.
"That's what I thought."
“You’re a pussy, Roman. You need to take initiative.”
"Enough." Marco's voice cuts through the room, causing Sal and me to take a step back.
Marco stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable. How long has he been there?
Salvatore demeanor shifts from confrontational to deferential in an instant. "Don Calabresi, I was just—"
"I heard what you were 'just' doing." Marco steps into the room, closing the door behind him. "The Vitale shipment needs supervision. Handle it personally."
It's not a suggestion. Salvatore knows better than to argue. He nods stiffly, shooting me one last glare before leaving.
When the door clicks shut, Marco sighs. "You look like shit, Roman."
"Haven't slept."
"I can tell." He gestures to the chair I'd vacated. "Sit before you fall over."
I don't argue. My body feels like it's running on fumes.
Marco leans against the desk, studying me with the same penetrating gaze he's had since we were kids. "What's going on with you and Isabella?"
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to her. I was called down—”
“I don’t mean the video. I mean you and her.” He crosses his arms. "If I’m not mistaken, you have feelings for her. I need to know if it's clouding your judgment."
I scrape my hand over my face, buying time.
How do I explain something I barely understand myself?
I decide not to try. “She’s not our enemy. She’s just a woman wanting answers to her mother’s murder. A murder her father and La Corona didn’t put any attention on.”
"You sound certain."
I hesitate because while I feel certain, I’m also sleep deprived and worried I’m being played.
“What about the FBI agent she met yesterday? With your daughter present?"
My jaw tightens. "That was a mistake."
"A mistake that could cost us everything."
"She claims she was ambushed. The agent had her mother's notebook—used it as bait." What does it mean that I defend her despite my own doubts? "Isabella says she refused to give information, called the agent out for trying to manipulate her."
"And you believe her?"
Do I? "I don't know," I admit. "But the notebook might have answers about Don Ferraza’s wife’s murder.”
“That you think is part of a bigger plan?”
“I do.”
"What's in this notebook that's so important?" Marco asks, his tone shifting from concern to skepticism.
I lean forward. "Isabella says her mother called it her insurance. She was meeting with Ernie Abruzzo, and I bet that info will be in there. Ernie was a dick, but he wasn’t stupid.
He was using her, but it doesn’t make sense why unless there’s something bigger at play like access to La Corona.
Ernie wasn’t in the know enough to orchestrate something like that, so someone else is pulling the strings. "
Marco watches me, his expression unreadable. "You're reaching, Roman."
“Maybe, but it’s my job to protect you and La Corona. I have to see this through.”
Marco shakes his head. "The council isn't interested in conspiracy theories about the past. We're dealing with immediate threats, FBI infiltration, territory disputes, shipment security."
"But—"
"No." His voice hardens. "La Corona has made its position clear. Your job is to keep Isabella in line and find out what she's told the Feds. Nothing more."
I clench my jaw, frustration building. "You're making a mistake."
"The mistake would be diverting resources to chase ghosts when we have real enemies at our door." Marco's tone softens slightly. "I understand you want answers for Isabella's sake. But La Corona's priorities come first. Always."
The finality in his voice tells me this conversation is over. Marco won't support my investigation, at least not officially.
“As you wish.”
He watches me, probably wondering if I’m going to listen. "You haven’t answered my question about you and Isabella?"
I stiffen. "What do you mean?"
"Don't insult me." His eyes narrow. "I've known you since we were eight years old. I can tell when you're compromised."
"I'm not—"
"Are you falling for her?" He cuts me off.
Isabella is… complicated. Beautiful. Stubborn. Vulnerable in ways that make me want to protect her even when she's driving me crazy.
"It's not that simple," I finally say.
"It needs to be." Marco's voice hardens. "You're my enforcer. I need your judgment unclouded."
"My judgment is fine."
"Is it? Because Dominic Vitale is calling for her head."
My gut clenches. "What?"
"He thinks she's a liability we can't afford. Says the FBI meeting was the last straw." Marco watches me carefully. "He's not alone in that opinion."
My hands curl into fists. "She's my wife."
"Only because I arranged it in deference to Don Ferraza." Marco's eyes soften slightly. "I've been holding them off, but I can't forever. Not if she gives them reason."
"If Vitale or anyone else comes near her—"
"Then what?" Marco cuts me off. "You'd go against La Corona? Against me?"
Would I? For a woman who might still be playing me?
"She's more than just your wife, Roman," Marco continues, his voice quiet but firm. "She's Leonardo's daughter. She's an FBI informant. Maybe she’s a chess piece in a game we don't fully understand yet."
I hate that he's right.
Hate that despite everything, despite the nights in my bed and the moments of vulnerability, Isabella remains a question mark.
I nod stiffly, swallowing the rage building in my throat. "I understand."
"Do you?" Marco studies me, his eyes searching mine for reassurance I'm not sure I can give. "Because this isn't just about Isabella anymore. It's about your place in this family."
What the fuck? I’ve given my life to the Calabresi family. My blood, my loyalty, everything.
“It’s good to know where I stand.” I rise from the chair. I’ve always known there was a limit to Marco’s loyalty.
Yes, he says I’m his brother, but he can’t have me around if I go against him, just like I can’t have Isabella if she goes against La Corona.
No one is safe from La Corona.
“Roman. It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” I grab my coat. "I need to check on a shipment.”
Marco sighs but nods. "Fine. But Roman…" He grips my shoulder, his voice dropping. "Tread carefully.”
“Always.”
The cold air on the docks knocks some alertness into me, but it doesn’t quell the anger.
Don Vitale's threat echoes in my mind. He wants Isabella dead. My wife dead. And he's not alone.
I've killed for the family without hesitation. Men who betrayed us, threatened us, challenged us. It was always clear, black and white.
But Isabella, she exists in shades of gray that I can't seem to navigate.
The thought of her cold and still, those fierce eyes empty, isn’t something I can handle.
I won't let it happen. Not to her. Not while there's breath in my body.
But what does that mean for me? For my position? For Angelica?
Christ, Angelica. My daughter who's already lost one mother. The thought of her growing attached to Isabella only to lose her, or worse, to lose me because I chose Isabella over the family, is unbearable.
“Fuck!” How did everything get so fucking complicated?
A month ago, my life made sense. Now I'm caught between duty and whatever this is I feel for Isabella.
Protection? Desire? Something deeper I'm too chickenshit to name?
Whatever it is, it's consuming me. Changing me. It’s a weakness I can’t afford.