17. Elio
Chapter seventeen
Elio
The incidents of last night continue to haunt me like a haunting melody.
It’s the way Aria tilted her head, laughing at whatever that blonde-haired jerk was saying. She was too close, his arm lingering on her arm and the fact that he even offered her champagne.
I know Aria isn’t like that, it probably was nothing to her, but I know nothing about that Friedrich guy and cannot trust someone as tacky as that.
The puzzle I’ve yet to solve is why this particular image is branded in my head like a stamp of notice.
I’ve had women, hundreds of them blonde, brunette, and redheads, of different noble and notable professions. Not one of them ever made me feel like this.
Possessive. Vulnerable…almost weak.
The need to own every inch of Aria, to have her all to myself in every possible way, grows stronger by the hour.
This cannot be love; love is a weakness I cannot afford. I have never been, and will never be, one of those men who would dance to the tunes of love. This has to be lust or a great kind of infatuation.
Whatever it is, though, it’s maddening and intoxicating, a feeling I find very difficult to describe.
When I first met with her, I knew she’d be useful. She was just a tool… another deal to close, another asset to acquire, so why can’t I move on from this girl? What the fuck is she doing to me?
I was going to keep her at arm’s length, but she has managed to crawl her way beneath my skin, planting herself in my heart like a parasite. A heart I didn’t know was capable of such feelings.
The way she looked that night, the shimmer of her dress catching the light, the curve of her hips where the dress snatched her waist, and the pink color of her lips, keep taunting me so much that I can’t even stand it. I don’t want any man near her, not even in the same room with her. In those moments, I feel my jealousy eating me alive, which is so unlike me.
The shrill ring of my phone vibrating on the table pulls me out of my conflicting thoughts. I glance at the screen, it’s my man in the NYPD.
“ Capo Donatelli.”
“What do you want?”
“We learned that the Frank Paterson case was reopened yesterday by the DA. The DA said new evidence has come to light, and he’s enthusiastic about looking into it.”
My grip on the phone tightens. Of course, it had to be this case, the one that could unravel everything and ruin the perfect life Ezra is trying hard to build with Raven. He used to be the fiery don who could kill someone with a single word, but he’s left that life behind now.
If the law enforcement officials dig deep enough, Ezra’s retirement could go up in flames, and my life along with it.
“New evidence?” I ask again to be sure.
“Yes, Sir .”
“Is this even legal? Where the fuck was this evidence all along? And why is a dead man causing so much trouble among the living?”
He hesitates at the other end, then releases a slow breath. “He was a high-ranking DEA agent who died under suspicious circumstances. There’s no way they’re letting that go just like that.”
I end the call, tossing the phone onto the table and exhaling sharply. This cannot happen, not now, when everything is falling into place.
Ezra has been out of the game for years, but his name is still linked to several weighty crimes. If this case explodes, it’ll destroy everything we’ve built over the years.
I need someone I can trust to lay hold of the evidence. I need to know whatever it is they’ve found.
My feet make soft, crunchy noises as I walk the length of my office, racking my brain on who can be smart and diligent enough to lay hands on that evidence.
I pick my phone up and dial Aria. For now, she fits perfectly into that description.
“I’m busy.” Her voice is crisp, and she sounds slightly annoyed.
“This is urgent,” I snap back.
“What is it, Elio? I’m at work.”
“There’s this case about a Frank Paterson, you must have heard of it.”
“The Frank Paterson case went cold before I became an intern. I don’t know anything but rumors about it.”
My teeth close around my lower lip to prevent me from yelling at her to shut the fuck up and just listen to what I have to say.
“I don’t care what you know about the case, Aria. I just need you to look into the new evidence the DA’s office has and report back to me.”
There’s silence for exactly three seconds, and then brash laughter fills my ears.
“Elio Donatelli, what exactly do you take me for?” I’m not surprised at the question, but I wasn’t expecting that reaction either.
“You’re calling me in the middle of work to do your dirty work. What the hell do you have to do with the Frank Paterson case now?”
I release a huff of breath sharply. “I don’t have a hand in it directly, but it has the capacity to ruin our lives as we know it.”
“Our lives?” Her voice is laced with what sounds like panic. “How does this affect me?”
“If you do what I say, it won’t affect you in any way.”
She hesitates for a while, as if she’s weighing her options, then breathes heavily into the receiver.
“Alright. I’ll look into it, but you have to promise that this won’t have a ripple effect on me or my dad.”
“Don’t worry, Princess, you’re safe. I’ll make sure of that.”
I end the call and sit back, running a hand through my hair. If she says she’ll get the job done, then she will.
I pick out a cigarette and light it up, inhaling deeply, watching as the smoke curls lazily in the air, distracting momentarily from the chaos unraveling in my mind.
If the DA has found new evidence, it could be incriminating for all of us, especially Ezra. The only way to get past him is to find a scapegoat. I need to find someone who is expendable, ready to die, and just give him the opportunity. I need someone who owes me.
My mind travels around different debtors for a while before sticking with Jonathan. He’s a low level enforcer who got caught a couple of years ago. I pulled a few strings to ensure he stays in for ten instead of twenty-five years. He owes me big time.
I stub the cigarette into the ashtray on the table and click on the intercom button on my desk.
“Cortez, vieni qua dentro (get in here).”
“ Sì, Capo, ” his voice calls out from the other end.
A moment later, the door opens, and his hulking figure comes marching in.
“We’ve got a problem,” I say as I wave him into the chair opposite me. “The DA has re-opened the Frank Paterson case.”
His brows furrow into a frown. “That’s not good. What does he have?”
“Not sure yet. They said new evidence has been found regarding the case.”
“If this blows up, we could all bear the heat.”
I’m glad he completely understands what’s at stake for all of us.
“This is why I need you to arrange a convenient person who can take the fall,” I say, leaning toward him. “You remember Jonathan?”
His brows furrow again but suddenly loosen up as he nods his head. “The enforcer guy.”
“Yes. How can we make him Frank Paterson’s murderer?”
Cortez’s face scrunches up, his feet tapping beneath the table in contemplation.
“That may be tricky…we have to tread carefully. I heard the other feds had a description of who the killer possibly looked like. Jonathan looks nothing like Capo Ezra.”
Cortez is right.
We have to find a man who has the right motive, the right physique, and the right links to the evidence gathered so far.
Thankfully, we’ve been able to put the warehouse incident behind us as my legal team intelligently convinced the court that everything surrounding the warehouse was staged. That was why their whistleblower found those items there at that bizarre time of night and, then, suddenly disappeared.
Besides, none of the fingerprints on any of the drugs, cash, or ammo stacks fit mine or that of Cortez. They didn’t have anything concrete to implicate us.
I turn to Cortez. “Who else can we use? Who else owes this family?” The words come out as a growl. At this point, I feel like dragging Cortez by his shirt and flinging him around until answers begin to drop from him like rain.
“What about Henshaw?” His brows lift, increasing the size of his eyes. My fingers take turns tapping incessantly on the table before me.
“Donald Henshaw. He doesn’t owe us.”
“He doesn’t need to owe us, Capo . He can just be the guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. All we need is for the evidence to align with the man we would make to take this fall.”
My lips curl up with satisfaction at what Cortez has suggested.
“So, what do you suggest we do? How do we bring Donald Henshaw into the picture?”
Cortez’s lips curl up with a deadly smile.
“The last I heard of him, he was in a bad medical condition. I don’t know what it is, but sta morendo (he’s dying). He’s already served twenty years for the homicide of his wife and two-year-old son. Frank Paterson was the son of the officer in charge of his case.”
My eyes widen with realization.
Donald Henshaw is built almost like Ezra; he’s slightly taller, but that doesn’t matter. Not only does he have the perfect motive, but he was also just freshly released from prison when Frank died.
If I ask a few of my men at the police department to make sure a witness emerges saying they saw Donald Henshaw at the crime scene, he would automatically become the prime suspect, thereby ruling out any suspicion towards Ezra.
I lean back in my chair, puffing away smoke and staring at the ceiling. This isn’t how I planned to spend my day, but it doesn’t matter.
I already know I won’t be able to do anything productive so long as Ezra’s life is at risk. I consider calling him for a moment, asking him to take his family and disappear from the surface of the earth, but I don’t want to do that just yet.
That would mean staging the death of his entire family, making it public, and moving away to the most remote parts of the world to stay without attracting attention.
Or it would involve taking up the identity of a dead person from a different continent and traveling far away to another part of the world with that identity.
If framing Henshaw works, there would be no need for any of that, meaning Ezra and his family can stay clean and retain their lives.
A sigh escapes my lips as my mind drifts back to Aria.
Situations like this are what make me scared of feeling any attachment to a woman. Such feelings become a weakness that my enemies exploit, eventually both endangering her life and weakening my position in the mafia. I don’t want a time to come when my sins return to haunt her or disrupt the perfect life she has for herself.
Smoke swirls and dissipates from my lips.
Even with how reckless and chaotic this situation with Aria threatens to be, I cannot imagine her apart from me. Despite her constant defiance, I’m starting to feel that she’s giving me some kind of a… purpose.
She makes me want to be a better man.
I crush the cigarette in the ashtray, standing up abruptly. There’s no room for doubt or second-guessing. If I want to keep my world and this thing ?whatever it is? with Aria intact, I have to act swiftly, and if that means dragging Jonathan or Henshaw into the fire, then so be it.
I’ll deal with the consequences later.