7. A Puttana
CHAPTER 7
A PUTTANA
S erena
“I thought you said you would wait in the car,” Papà growls as I hop out of the Alfa Romeo.
“I lied.” I throw him a smirk and curl my arm around his before tipping my head back to admire the enormous villa. The gleaming white facade is practically glowing beneath the pale streetlights of the luxurious Brera district. “Besides, there’s no way I’m missing out on seeing this gorgeous home up close and personal.”
“Serena…”
“I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut. I won’t say a word.”
“But—”
“But what? You said this was an associate of yours, right? So it’s not like I’m going to be in danger.” More than the normal amount that comes along with my last name. Here in Milano, I’ve enjoyed the anonymity of it all, but I have to admit, it’s also gotten kind of boring. The Valentino name may come with some risks, but there are also countless perks. I’ve missed out on enjoying the luxurious aspects of the life.
“He’s a new associate,” Papà grits out, returning my wandering thoughts to the conversation. “And you know I don’t trust anyone.”
“So don’t tell him I’m your daughter. Just say I’m a puttana you picked up off the streets.”
“Serena!” His eyes grow impossibly wide. “I would never do such a thing to your mother. I could never even pretend. And cazzo , you’re my daughter… Just the idea of it—” His lips screw in disgust, and a tremor races across his broad shoulders.
Okay, maybe I’d gone too far with that idea, but anything is better than being babysat in the car by Aldo for the next hour. “I’ll say whatever you want, okay?”
“Say nothing.”
I slam my jaw closed, the crack of my teeth vibrating across the still air. As he leads me up the stone walkway, through the perfectly manicured gardens complete with intricate topiaries and marble fountains with chubby cherubs, I can’t help a smile from curling my lips. Everyone always said my mom was the only person who could wrap Papà around her finger. She was. Until I came along.
“So who is this guy anyway?” I whisper before we reach the guards stationed at the front steps of the sprawling villa. Four beefy men in all black remind me of smaller, less intense versions of Bella’s bodyguard.
“His name is Enrico Sartori. He’s a big player in Rome and a key partner for the Kings in our growing Italian ventures. His son, Federico, is being primed to take over the Sartori syndicate, and he felt it was imperative I meet him in person since I’m in town.”
“Interesting… I wonder if he’s good looking.”
“Serena…” he snarls my name like a curse.
“I’m kidding, relax, Pa.” Only partially. I’ve never gone for the good boys—dark, broody, fucked up, now that’s my type.
“I’m not here to arrange your damned wedding.”
Now I’m the one cringing. “Hell, no. I would kill you if you ever tried such a thing.”
A dark chuckle bursts from my father’s lips. “Oh, I know.”
We reach the front door, and one of the guards dips his head and motions us through the grand foyer. “Welcome, Signor Valentino and signorina .” An icy chill races up my spine as we cross the threshold. My heels click on the silver-veined marble, my head tilted back to take in the vibrant frescoes painted across the ceiling. It’s like walking through the Sistine Chapel at St. Peter’s Basilica.
The hulking guard leads us into a large study with dark mahogany paneling. A thick silence descends over the room as we walk in. A massive desk sits in the center with an imposing male perched in a high-backed leather chair, the smooth caramel coloring reminding me of a well-aged scotch.
“ Signor Valentino …” The man’s dark eyes chase to mine. With wavy, salt and pepper hair and a strong Roman nose, he must have been attractive when he was young. I stiffen my spine and offer a tight smile. I’ve grown up surrounded by powerful men my entire life, and very few have ever made me tremble in fear. Sartori is no exception. “I expected you to come alone.”
“Yes, well, you caught me a bit off guard, and I was at dinner.” Papà shifts his gaze in my direction but never introduces me, neither as his daughter nor his whore as I’d suggested.
Another man walks in a moment later with a guard at his side. Papà visibly stiffens and I instinctively clutch my purse tighter at my side. If I need to pull Dolce out, I’m ready.
“I thought this meeting was to meet your son, Enrico… who the fuck is that?” Dante growls. “He looks like he could be your father.”
The male who just entered offers a smile, wisps of silver hair barely covering his scalp. “Excuse me for the intrusion.” He extends his hand, but Papà eyes it warily, glare unflinching. “Michele Salerno, a fellow businessman.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Enrico interjects. For a second, the air thickens, the tension in the room palpable.
“And if I said I do?” My father’s eyes narrow at the two men before a smile slides in. “Fuck it, I don’t have time for this. Let’s get on with it already.”
When the men move past the preliminary introductions, I’m relieved to just stand there in anonymity as they begin to discuss the tedious details of their new agreement. At some point in the conversation, the guard who escorted us in, reappears with another man. This one I’m more interested in.
With bright green eyes that sparkle like the finest emeralds and a strong, square jaw, he flashes me a smile. “Excuse the delay.” With his gaze still pinned in my direction, he offers Papà a hand. “Federico Sartori.”
Pa is not as interested in the newcomer as I am. “Let’s move this along. I have a jet home to catch.”
“Of course.” Federico finally peels his gaze from mine and the four men gather around the enormous desk, while I’m left to wander the study. Rows of bookshelves line the back wall, so I entertain myself by reading the spines. I’ve never been a big reader, not like Bella who spends hours with her nose buried in the pages of a good romance novel. I’d rather be living my own smutty fantasies in real life.
“…Antonio Ferrara…”
My head spins at the familiar name on the lips of a male voice. Antonio Ferrara is Raf’s brother, the new head of the Ferrara crime organization. Bella’s bodyguard never wanted anything to do with the family business and after everything went to hell last month during her internship in Rome, his eldest brother, Antonio, assumed the role of capo .
I turn toward the four men and find Enrico speaking. Inching closer, I strain to make out bits of the conversation without being overly obvious. Papà did say he’d been in Rome. He isn’t working with Antonio, is he? It’s not possible after everything Bella went through…
Unless Uncle Luca doesn’t know, and my crazy-ass father is working on something on the side. I vow to get the truth out of him before he steps foot on that jet back to New York. With Bella still living in Rome, I have to make sure she’s safe. She’s my baby cousin, and I don’t care that her boyfriend thinks he’s the most lethal bodyguard that ever lived.
“The Ferrara empire will be no more within months. The pieces have already begun to crumble.” Federico smiles, not the kind that has heat unfurling between my legs, but rather a calculating, cold-blooded one. “With the Kings, Sartoris and Salernos working together, they will be forced out.”
“And you’re certain Antonio Ferrara won’t be a problem?” Papà . His back is to me, so I can’t see much from the corner of my eye as I continue to pretend to peruse the bookshelves.
“I will make sure of it,” Federico whispers. “Though my father has moved his permanent residence here to Milano, I will remain in Roma and see to it that the Ferraras are destroyed.”
“And if they attempt to retaliate?”
“Antonio is weak; he’s not cut out for the cutthroat role. He’s new to leadership, and his men cannot possibly be that loyal yet. It takes time to rebuild an organization like theirs. He’s on the brink of destruction as it is, and we will be sure to push him over the edge.”
“I’m counting on you, Sartori,” says Papà . “If my niece gets caught in the crossfire, I will hold your son personally responsible.”
My breath hitches, and I barely restrain the gasp from seeping out.
“Federico insists he has everything in control, and I trust him.”
“ Bene .”
The conversation takes a turn to logistics, and I lose interest once there’s no further mention of Antonio. As soon as I talk to Pa, I have to warn Bella. Raf needs to know what’s happening so he can take the necessary precautions.
An hour later and Papà and I are back on the Navigli enjoying our gelato and the warm night air. He’s tense despite the heaping spoonful’s of nocciola ice cream he shovels into his mouth.
“Does Luca know what you’re doing?” I finally ask. I hoped he would offer the information, but it’s late and he hasn’t said a word. In less than an hour, he’ll be on his way back to Manhattan.
“What are you talking about?” He dips the spoon into the gelato once more, staring at the creamy treat.
“With the Ferraras… You know very well that’s Raf’s family.”
He rolls his eyes, a rueful grin tugging at his gelato-smeared lips. “His ex-family from what I understand.”
“It doesn’t matter. Bella is still in Rome and if Luca knew what you were up to, he’d rip you a new one.”
“Both the Sartori’s and Salernos assured me they could handle Antonio without any collateral damage.”
“And if they can’t?”
“Nothing will happen to Isabella, trust me. Antonio Ferrara will have enough to worry about without going after his brother’s girl.”
“I hope you’re right, Papà , or I’ll be the one ripping you a new one.” I give him a sweet smile before finishing off my gelato and licking the last remnants of fragola from the spoon. Bella’s always been a chocolate girl, but for me, there’s nothing like strawberry ice cream. In fact, I’m kind of addicted to the scent and practically bathe in it between my hair products, bath gels and body moisturizers.
Besides, it’s better if people think I’m sweet when they first meet me. The scent is innocent yet alluring, and it hides the tougher side of me just long enough to get the upper hand. In the world I grew up in, you must have an edge if you want to survive, and if mine comes wrapped in a strawberry scent, so be it.