Chapter 22 Angelo
Angelo
Ifill a mug from the coffee carafe and add some cream and sugar. Normally I drink my coffee black, but this morning I need the additional energy boost. Spending time with my father is always a bitter pill, but our scheduled family breakfast promises to be even worse than usual.
There’s no sign of Fina yet. I have a feeling she’s been fighting fires all night with a combination of threats and promises of exclusive stories.
Dad strolls in wearing a god-awful canary yellow sweater that tells me he has a golf lesson this morning. He discovered golf a year ago and has become obsessed with his handicap. I hate the fucking game, and no matter how many times he bullies me into joining him on the links, I don’t improve.
“You look like shit, figlio.”
“Long night.” I take a seat by the window, ignoring the breakfast spread. My stomach can’t cope with high-fat food this morning. I’m a bundle of stress and tension, and if I eat anything, there’s a danger it might come back up.
Has Chiara given me an ulcer?
It wouldn’t fucking surprise me.
My teeth grind at the memory of her and Luka stumbling out from the pantry, her pretty blue eyes glassy with lust and his expression smug as fuck.
The bastard is supposed to be here this morning, but I doubt he’ll show. Dad probably won’t notice either way. He rarely pays much attention to the son he sired while off his head one night.
I used to think he ignored Luka because his presence was an embarrassment, but eventually I realized it was because my father is a narcissistic monster who is incapable of caring about anyone or anything.
“More coffee, sir?” Marietta hovers with the carafe in her hand. I nod and smile, and she refills my cup. It’s about time my father let the poor woman retire, but he won’t. He likes the way she tip-toes around him, always subservient. Never daring to speak out for fear of the repercussions.
The exact opposite of my dear wife.
My father thrives in the darkness where the monsters live. Maybe if I were more like him, my wife would stop behaving like a brat.
Then again, I have a feeling she gets off on winding me up. Punishment for ruining her life. Her words, not mine.
It’s one of the many insults she threw at me last night when I threatened to castrate my brother. Chiara promised to do the same to me if I hurt him, while Luka grinned like he’d won the lottery.
I suppose he has. My wife likes my brother and despises me.
“Where’s your sister? She’s late.” Our father grumbles to himself as he slices into a grapefruit. The family physician has him on a low-fat diet because of high blood pressure. He hates it.
“Probably catching up on the news.”
Marietta brings over a stack of newspapers for Dad’s perusal, and I tense as he leafs through the top one. Since he’s not lost his shit yet, he can’t have checked social media. Thank fuck.
There are very few times when I’m grateful our father is a technophobe, but this is one of them.
Because he’s too vain to wear glasses, he squints at an article while I sip my second cup of coffee. Fina’s more than late now, which is worrying. She knows how much our father hates it when we’re late.
A few moments later, I hear murmured voices from the hallway, and then the door swings open.
Fina strides in wearing a brittle smile, impeccably presented as usual.
Anyone looking at her perfectly coiffed hair and designer sheath dress accessorized with a single strand of pearls would see a relaxed, thoroughly in control woman.
But I know my sister all too well. I can tell when she’s unhappy and stressed.
Fina dips to kiss our father’s cheek and then takes her seat at the table. Marietta brings her a cup of green tea, which Fina sips while Dad continues reading the papers.
The clock on the wall ticks loudly, while outside the guards patrol and, in the distance, a gardener clips a yew hedge. Dad’s favorite dog, Brutus, lies on the lawn, soaking up the sun, his black-and-tan coat gleaming like polished metal.
Dad loves his dogs.
He especially loves it when they savage intruders.
Brutus once tore the throat out of a guy who tried to enter the house before the guards caught him. Brutus earned a sirloin steak as a reward.
“How was the gala?” Dad’s voice is calm with no hint as to his mood. This is when he’s at his most dangerous. Fina cuts me a quick glance and purses her lips. I’m guessing the stories online and in the morning papers are not good.
“Interesting.” I can’t think of a better word.
Dad looks up. “Interesting?”
“My wife has a mind of her own.” Without context, my words mean nothing.
“Have you not got the girl under control yet?” Dad tuts. “Perhaps you need to exert more force, Angelo. Women don’t respect a man who lets them walk all over him.”
Fina looks disgusted but turns away to hide her reaction, using Marietta as a distraction.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have agreed to a marriage contract with a woman who is vehemently against marriage,” I offer with a bland smile.
Dad scoffs loudly. “She fit the bill, plus Vivian Farucci is useful to me. She needed cash, and you needed a wife. If you can’t get the woman to behave, send her to me for a few weeks.
” He smiles before slicing off a portion of grapefruit.
Pink juice drips down the knife as he swallows it whole.
“I’ll bring her to heel for you. Training a woman is like training an unruly dog.
You’ve gotta make them understand who’s the boss, Angelo.
And if that doesn’t work, you shoot them.
Nobody wants a dog that won’t obey its master’s orders. ”
My stomach heaves. I’m no stranger to violence, but the thought of my father getting his hands on Chiara makes me want to murder him. My fingers rest lightly on the damask tablecloth. It wouldn’t take much to kill the bastard.
But I rein in my fury and smile.
“She’s a work in progress, Dad.”
“Glad to hear it. I look forward to the pregnancy announcement.” I open my mouth to reply that it could take time, but he turns to Fina.
“Care to explain why you haven’t squashed the stories about my son’s wife causing a scene last night?”
“Get that woman under control, figlio.” My father’s parting shot rings in my ears as I step outside, Fina on my heels. Kane waits by the car, showing no signs of our sparring session last night other than a fat lip.
Fina kisses our father goodbye. We wait until the door closes before walking to the cars.
“That was fun,” she says with a grimace.
I silently agree. “You managed to bring him round in the end.” She persuaded him that the stories about Chiara were intentional, engineered as a distraction from the less palatable story she’d caught wind of yesterday afternoon.
A journalist had called her an hour before the gala, asking for a statement. It seemed he’d received a tip-off about a body found in the harbor, and the cop mentioned our family’s connection.
I’d love to know which cop thought it was a good idea to blab about us to the press. Sadly, the journalist provided no information about his source, but I plan to send Kane to talk to him.
“I wish you’d reconsider this marriage arrangement, Angelo. Chiara doesn’t want it any more than you do. Can’t you let her go? Dad would get over it.”
“No.” My vehemence surprises her, but I’m not backing down on this. As much as the woman drives me insane, she’s mine, and the sooner she gets it through her skull, the better.
If I have to chain her to my fucking bed to make her see she’s never getting away from me, then so be it.
My phone rings as the car pulls away. I frown when I see it’s our CFO, Ronald.
“Ronald. Is there a problem?” We had a meeting a few days ago, so I’m a bit surprised to hear from him again so soon.
“An audit has picked up some unusual transactions.”
While I always keep a close eye on our bottom line, Ronald is the finance nerd. He’s worked for the family for decades, and my father trusts him implicitly.
“What sort of transactions?” Kane keeps his attention on the road, but the privacy screen isn’t up, so he can hear my side of the conversation.
“Two large payments into the Mirabel Hotel account.”
“Why would this be a problem?”
“There was one payment of ten million and a second payment of twelve million. Both on the same day. And both from accounts registered in the Cayman Islands.”
I go silent while I mull over what he’s saying. And also what he’s not saying. The casino hotels deposit millions in cash every week, but two significant payments from untraceable accounts will attract unwanted attention.
An ominous sense of foreboding sinks into my bones. This unwelcome news, along with the tip-off about the corpse of a man last seen talking to one of my guys, makes me suspect our enemies have stepped up their activities against us.
“This stays between us for now, Ronald. No sense bothering my father until we know more.”
Ronald mumbles in agreement before ending our call.
“Problem?” I look up to see Kane watching me in the rearview mirror.
“Maybe. Guess we’ll soon find out.” If someone is messing with us, I need to figure out who. And fast. The last thing we need is the FBI sniffing around.