Chapter 29 #2
My mother rises and takes my face in her hands.
Her palms feel cool against my heated skin.
For a second, I let my eyes drift closed so I can pretend none of this is happening, that I wasn’t just completely duped by the man I fell in love with, that I’m not under attack from within my own family.
But my eyes open again, and reality still hovers over me like a dark cloud.
“You are your father’s daughter, tesoro. Whatever happens in that room, remember that. You have his strength, his mind, his ability to see through people.” Mom pauses. “Don’t let anyone make you forget who you are.”
I nod, knowing if I speak, the floodgates will open again.
I break away from my mom and Luna and head to the powder room with my bag to do a quick repair to all the crying damage.
I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face.
I towel off and apply some moisturizer and foundation to hide the red splotches on the skin.
Then I swipe some concealer under my eyes.
A little blush and bronzer, and I at least look somewhat normal even though I’m still dying an excruciating death inside.
I stare at myself in the mirror once I’m finished.
For the first time today, I look the part.
Cold and controlled. I’m the woman who shut down Riccardo in front of all the capos.
I’m the one who put a Russian in the hospital for messing with our organization.
And I’m the one who is going to shut down anyone who dares cross me and tries to crush my livelihood.
The mask is in place.
I sure as hell hope it holds.
Pier 7 sits at the edge of the waterfront, a stretch of crumbling concrete and rusted metal long forgotten by the city.
The dilapidated warehouse is the main structure on the pier.
It’s a massive building constructed of steel and concrete.
Once upon a time, it was shiny and new, but now it’s dark and dank with broken windows and graffiti sprayed all around the exterior.
Definitely the kind of place where things disappear, and no one asks questions.
With a deep breath, I park near the entrance and stare up at the building. The morning sun casts a glow over the place, illuminating every stain on the concrete, every patch of rust, every shadow that could be hiding something deadly.
My father used to bring me to places like this when I was younger.
Not this pier specifically, but others like it that looked just as menacing as this one does to me now.
“This is where the real business happens in our world,” he told me once.
“Not in boardrooms. Not in restaurants. Here, where nobody’s watching. ”
I knew he was showing me something important. The ugly truth beneath our family name. And I also knew at that moment that I wanted to create a world where the business I did was anywhere but in places like this.
But here I am.
Irony is a real bitch.
Two of Vincenzo’s men are positioned outside. They nod as I approach the entrance, and one holds the door open for me. I know these men, have known them for years. But somehow the act of respect sends chills through my blood.
I step inside the warehouse, immediately assaulted by the stench of rust, fish, and rotting garbage.
My stomach roils. At least, I hope it’s just garbage.
I try not to breathe in too deeply. The space is mostly empty.
I walk along floors stained with decades of Christ only knows what.
The ceilings are just a mess of exposed beams, the only light streaming in from the broken windows.
I duck into the first room I come to. There’s a table and three chairs set up in the center of it. A single lamp sits on the table.
I twist my grandmother’s ring and look around before moving toward the table.
My skin prickles. Every instinct I have screams at me to run, to get the hell out of this place, to take a breath and figure out the next steps on my own.
Footsteps behind me make me jump. My eyes narrow on Riccardo as he sweeps past me with a glare. His lip curls. “Took you long enough.”
“I’m here now.” I keep my voice steady. “Let’s get this over with.”
We stand there, facing off like two animals circling each other before they pounce and go in for the kill.
More footsteps register in the back of my mind. And to be honest, I don’t feel like I can look away from this asshole because I don’t trust him not to shoot me dead on the spot. He’s that big of an idiot to make a move like that.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Adriana,” Vincenzo says, shuffling into the room.
Only then do I turn toward him. My brow furrows.
His face is drawn and weathered, and he looks so old right now, the lines on his face carved deeper than they were the last time I saw him.
He flashes a small, tired smile at me, then squeezes my arm. “I know this is difficult.”
“Difficult seems to be the theme of my week.” I sink into one of the chairs. “What exactly is the plan for this meeting?”
Riccardo drops into the chair across from me, manspreading like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Your removal.”
“Excuse me?” I balk at that, my eyes flying open wide as I look between him and Vincenzo.
“You heard me.” He leans forward, his dark eyes glittering with malice.
“Your father is awake now, but he needs time to recover. The arrangement that put you in charge was always temporary, and you’ve proven you can’t handle the Russian threat in a way that makes us look strong and powerful to our enemies.
You are singlehandedly crushing this organization. It’s time for someone else to step in.”
I sit back and fold my arms over my chest. “And you think that’s you?”
“I know it’s me. I’ve given my entire life to this organization. While you were playing corporate princess, pretending you were too good for us, I was here. Doing the work, learning the game, and earning my place. You’ve never done anything to earn this position.”
“The fuck I haven’t. And you weren’t ‘earning your place.’ You were causing problems,” I seethe. “Starting fights we couldn’t win. Making enemies we didn’t need. Every capo in this organization has a story about cleaning up one of your messes.”
A deep red flush spills into his cheeks. “That’s a lie—”
“Bullshit. And we both know it.” My heart hammers hard, my pulse throbbing against my throat. But I keep my voice free from the rage boiling my blood. “If my father wanted you to lead, he would have said so. He didn’t. That should tell you everything.”
“Your father made a mistake. It’s my goddamn birthright. He couldn’t see that I was the one who should have been groomed for this, not his daughter who wanted nothing to do with us.”
“Or maybe he saw exactly who you are.” I hold his gaze.
“A liability posing as an asset. Someone who claims to be loyal while deceiving and undermining the family every chance he gets.” I lean forward and slam my hands on the table.
“I’m starting to wonder if that’s been your plan all along…
to make us look weak and divided so we’d be an easy target for our enemies. ”
Shock seeps into his expression.
That motherfucker.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarls.
“Oh, really? The Russians have been watching us for months. And the only way their attacks would have been successful is if someone from the inside was feeding them information. The gala, Moretti’s, Castellano.
And every time we start to rebuild, something happens to shake everyone’s confidence.
And you’re always at the center of it, running your mouth, making sure everyone knows we’re vulnerable.
You’re feeding the flames… just like you’re feeding the Russians exactly what they need to break us. Isn’t that true?”
“That’s insane—”
“Is it?” I look at Vincenzo with a lifted eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Vincenzo has been quiet, watching us exchange accusations charged by hate and disgust. Now he moves closer, positioning himself between us at the table.
“I think,” he says, drumming his fingertips on the steep tabletop, “that Adriana makes a compelling point.”
Riccardo’s expression shifts from anger to uncertainty. “Vincenzo, you can’t seriously—”
“You’ve been a problem for this family for years, Riccardo. Just like your father was.” Vincenzo’s voice is calm. Soothing, even. “I warned Francesco about both of you. Over and over again. But he never listened. His love for his brother blinded him to the truth.”
An icy sensation slips down my spine. His tone is off. He sounds so… detached. And disappointed.
“What are you saying?” Riccardo’s voice ticks up in pitch.
“I’m saying you’re right about one thing.” Vincenzo’s hand drops below the table. “Adriana isn’t fit to lead this family.”
What the fuck? Did I just hear that right?
My jaw drops, damn near slamming on the tabletop, just as a flash of black appears. Vincenzo’s gun. I recoil and grip the edge of the table.
His fucking gun?
I had a weird feeling walking into this place, but deep down, I didn’t think… I didn’t really believe—
“But then again,” he continues, pressing the barrel against Riccardo’s temple, “neither are you.”
I clap my hands over my ears at the sharp crack. The sound shudders my insides and makes my heart leap into my throat where it chokes me as I struggle to find words.
Riccardo’s body slumps forward onto the table. Blood spreads across the surface, dripping onto the concrete floor.
I just stare at him, his eyes vacant and lifeless. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. White noise assaults my ears. My mind spirals, trying to process what just happened, but nothing makes sense. Yes, he was a problem. Yes, he was a liability.
But to kill him like that? In cold blood?
My breaths are shallow and ragged. I clutch a hand over my heart.
I wouldn’t have… I couldn’t have…
Vincenzo lowers the gun and looks at me. His expression is resigned. Almost sad, actually.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Adriana. But it was necessary.”