Chapter 3
I clench my jaw as I listen to Mamma talk about the latest visit from Dino, the man responsible for fifty percent of my genetic load.
As always, she ignores the fact that he only ever offers her the leftovers from his other family, showing up only after fulfilling his role as patriarch of the “official” one.
The good society of Florence would never forgive him for visiting his bastard children and mistress before properly performing his duties as head of the Moretti clan.
I try to hide my disgust at the situation, but when I glance at Tommaso, I can see he feels the same.
All four of my siblings at the table do, in fact.
Maybe the only one somewhat oblivious to it all is Giovanna, the most generous of heart among us.
I see in Tommaso’s, Gaetano’s, and Donatella’s faces that they would love to pull our mother out of this bubble of misery and delusion.
But like me, they know it would be useless.
Until she decides for herself that she deserves more than the crumbs that bastard gives her, she’ll keep playing the spare tire.
My phone vibrates in the inside pocket of my blazer, and I silently thank whoever it is for the interruption.
Anything, even a problem with one of my companies on a Sunday, is better than sitting through this farce.
And it’s only going to get worse, because in less than an hour, the bastard Dino will be here for his Sunday visit.
I rise, catching Mamma’s worried look.
“Oh, Gianni, you can’t leave yet!” she says. “Can’t those men who work for you handle things on their own?”
I go and kiss her forehead, because I know that, to her, this family gathering—which, at least until Dino arrives, is real—is important, since my siblings and I truly love her.
However, I can never stay long. I’m not one to sugarcoat anything. I’m raw, I see things as they are, and from my point of view, her situation with him is unacceptable.
It’s not just that she’s the mistress, or that we grew up discriminated against by Italian high society. I don’t like people enough to care about that.
My resentment lies in the fact that they judge her, and Mamma accepts the role of villain, excluded, marginalized, when in truth, the one who should feel shame is the bastard who seduced two practically teenaged girls at the same time, getting both of them pregnant.
And not just that. They were best friends.
“I’ll be back,” I tell them as I leave the room.
When I grab my phone and look at the screen, I feel my blood boil, because maybe, just maybe, this is what I’ve been waiting to hear for months.
I made a promise, and I won’t stop until I keep it.
“I have news you’ll want to hear. When can we meet?”
I know the man can’t stay on the line long, and I also know that as soon as we hang up, he’ll discard the phone. We never use the same one twice.
“Where are you?”
“In Rome. When can you come?”
“Is it about him?”
“Yes. The idiot is doing something big behind his uncle’s back, and I’m sure you’ll be interested.”
I don’t need to hear more. He wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. It’s risky for both of us to stay in contact.
I return to the dining room to say goodbye to my family.
They don’t know my secret. Nonna entrusted it only to me, and I will do everything in my power to honor her.
Hours Later
“Who is she?”
“That’s not the point. What matters is what she’ll be used for. Ever heard of Beau Carmouche-LeBlanc?”
“No.”
“Not surprising. There’s no proper way to define him, so let’s keep it simple.
He’s from New Orleans. Rumor has it he’s connected to the Russian Mafia, though nothing’s been proven.
Slippery as a snake. To the world, an untouchable businessman, owner of a chain of luxury nightclubs around the globe. ”
“But it’s all a front,” I conclude the obvious.
“No, they’re real. But he has a whole secret life behind it.”
“What kind? Human trafficking, drugs?”
“No. More like a vigilante, merciless with his enemies. But most importantly, he’s considered the protégé of the former Russian Pakhan, Ruslan Vassiliev.
There’s no blood tie, they’ve hidden their connection well, but not from someone like me.
From what I’ve learned, Ruslan sees no difference between the Cajun and his blood grandsons. ”
“And let me guess: Angelo, that son of a bitch, is at war with this man. Beau.”
“Yes, he is. And the most important part, he’s doing it behind his uncle’s back. I doubt Brambilla would be foolish enough to go against LeBlanc, knowing what he means to Ruslan. There’s too much at stake. A war between Sicilians and Russians could break out if one side makes the wrong move.”
“Tell me the rest.”
“He kidnapped a woman, a Roma, and is holding her hostage until her sister seduces Beau and hands him over on a silver platter.”
“Why go to such extremes? Wouldn’t it be easier, more typical of the Sicilians’ modus operandi, to just blow up LeBlanc’s car?”
“I don’t think you understand, Andresano,” he says, calling me by my last name. “Getting to Beau is next to impossible.”
“And how did the sister of the kidnapped woman manage it?”
“I have no idea. But I’m certain the girl, Amber, is with him. The fact is, the sisters’ time is running out. According to a source I have among the Sicilians, Angelo is growing more anxious, and scared, too. He knows that if his uncle finds out what he plotted behind his back, he’s dead.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Take her from him. Without Elodie, the woman he’s holding, he has nothing.
He’ll panic and then expose himself. He’ll think her sister will tell Beau that the Sicilians were behind it, and that will screw him.
That’s all we need. He’s the last direct descendant.
Once we eliminate him, your mission will be complete, and you can go back to being the decent man you were born to be. ”
“I’ll never be the hero, Abaddon[3]. I carry too much hatred inside me for that role to ever suit me.”