11. Dante
Chapter 11
Dante
E nzo organizes everything, but he looks unhappy doing it. “Martinelli isn’t going to sit down and have a nice lunch with you, Dante.”
“I don’t expect him to,” I shrug. “But if he expects to get his daughter back, he’ll show some restraint.”
“I thought you weren’t giving him his daughter back,” Enzo says warily.
The table looks magnificently set; I should thank the staff. “I don’t, but Tommaso doesn’t know that. He needs to come to the table properly motivated. Did you tell him we have Adalina?”
“Yes. He cursed at me in a string of colorful Italian words that made me blush.”
I flash my bodyguard a smile. “That’s because you’re a good Italian boy.”
We burst into laughter, remembering countless moments when Enzo strayed into the realm of criminal activity. Good Italian boy, my ass.
Someone knocks on the front door, and I know without having to ask that it’s Tommaso. I nod at Enzo. “Let him in. If he tries anything, shoot him in the kneecap.”
Adalina seemed more concerned about her father’s retaliatory strike than I would have predicted. Given what I know about Tommaso Martinelli, I believe it’s unwarranted, but I won’t discount her experience. There is a slight chance she knows more about her father than I do. While I’m sure he hasn’t familiarized her with the inner workings of the family business, perhaps she’s seen a thing or two that would lead her to believe he’s more violent than I give him credit for.
I wait in the dining room at the head of the table for Enzo to return. When he does, it’s with a steely look that betrays no emotion. He can be a stone wall when he needs to be. This man walks by my side into every battle, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Where’s my daughter?” The words are like a gunshot, sharp and demanding; Tommaso doesn’t bother with pleasantries or small talk.
But that’s not how I planned out this little charade. “Please, have a seat. The cook will be out in a moment with lunch.”
Tommaso looks at the chair helpfully pulled out for him. “I’m not hungry. I only came here to get my daughter back.”
I sit anyway, arranging my napkin in my lap and making myself comfortable. “I hope sparkling water is okay. I wasn’t sure what your preference was.”
“Are you listening to me, Terlizzi? You fucking kidnapped my daughter, and I want her back. Now. Or else you’re going to regret it.”
I can see where Adalina gets her hot head from. She is just like her dear ol’ dad. The difference is I like it when she’s a little mean to me. When Tommaso does it, it just makes me homicidal. “Please sit down and indulge me for a few minutes. Adalina will be out shortly, and you’ll see she is perfectly fine—safe, even, or at least safer than she is in your care.”
His face turns a bright shade of red, as if he didn’t expect me to be aware of the abuse he inflicts on Adalina. But the promise of his daughter’s safe return is enough to make him sit down. As he settles in, his protruding stomach bumps against the table’s edge, causing it to wobble slightly. He does not offer an apology for the disturbance. “Where did you find her?”
“Disney World. Why does it matter?”
“Because she’s my daughter,” he replies between gritted teeth. “I have the right to know what she is doing at all times.”
I’ll admit, he makes me smile. He’s so unintentionally funny. “She’s an adult, Tommaso. She doesn’t owe you an explanation any more than I do.”
He brings his fists down on the table with resounding force, causing his fork to clink against his glass. “God damn it, Terlizzi. Tell me where my daughter is this fucking second or I will burn this house to the ground.”
Little threats. Cute threats. Threats I’ve been making since I was old enough to walk. “If you threaten me like that again, I will have Enzo hold you down while I cut off your toes one by one. I’m in the market for new jewelry, and a necklace made of your little piggies would do me just fine.”
Tommaso is no stranger to the threats people make in this lifestyle. He does not cower before me; he sits there with his spine as straight as can be and sizes me up. “If you think for even two fucking seconds that you can maim or kill a made man, you better think twice. The Castigliones will be so far up your ass when they find out what you’ve done.”
“You mean my future wife’s family?” I cock my head.
The color drains from Tommaso’s face. I can see that the news hasn’t reached his ears that I’m engaged to the most powerful Midwest boss’ sister.
“You see, I agree. In any other configuration of this scenario, you win. Whatever I do to you or Adalina would happen to me twice as bad. Because the Castigliones exact their revenge with the kind of precision that would overwhelm a lesser man.” I know I’ll still have to deal with them regardless, but that’s a conversation for another day. “However, I’m arranged to marry Lucrezia Castiglione. My saving grace is a sweet, volatile sixteen-year-old girl who means the world to Saverio. If she tells her brother she wants me to be spared, he will look the other way.”
Tommaso must run through a dozen scenarios in his head as he taps his fingers against the dining room table. The cook enters and places wedge salads in front of us before quietly leaving without saying a word. “What do you want, Terlizzi?”
I nod at Enzo, indicating that he should get Adalina. “Only what any man in my position would want.” I grab my knife and fork and cut through the center of my wedge. The head of lettuce splits in two, spilling bacon all over the plate. “Everything, Martinelli. Everything you own. Everything you owe . And everything you hold dear.”