Chapter 16
ETTORE
I’m in my home office, trying to focus on some paperwork for the real estate deal. But my thoughts keep returning to how sad Mara looked over late-afternoon pancakes. She wasn’t like her usual self at all. Maybe it’s the games we’re playing with each other, the heat, the ice, everything in between.
I take out my phone.
Ettore: Did something happen today? You looked upset. If it was me, I’m sorry, Mara. I know this is difficult.
Mara: It IS difficult. But it wasn’t you. It’s complicated.
Ettore: I’m listening.
Mara: Well, you shouldn’t be.
Ouch. But she’s right. I keep saying we need emotional distance, but then I’ll reach out. I can’t help it.
Ettore: Tell me.
Mara: Is that an order from Mr. Hell or Mr. Heaven?
I laugh gruffly. I know what she’s saying. Is this the mob boss talking, or the legitimate businessman?
Ettore: Both.
I turn back to the document, awaiting her answer. The words blur on the page. None of it feels like it means a thing when Mara is stuck in limbo.
Mara: I had a strange run-in with my neighbor.
He’s a drunk, and he’s been getting on at me about this fence.
He broke it, but he thinks I should fix it.
Anyway, he said something weird about my parents.
He said that rich people know how to make people disappear, and my parents should’ve known that. I don’t get what he meant.
Ettore: That’s a strange thing to say. Do you have any idea what he could be talking about?
Mara: No, none. I didn’t know my parents. I can hardly remember them. I had an aunt – she left me the house – but I didn’t know that until I was already an adult. She abandoned me, left me to fend on my own.
I read this message, then another comes through immediately after.
Mara: Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload.
Ettore: I want you to unload. I can carry the weight. I can help.
Mara: What about your parents? Were you close?
She’s changing the subject, but I can’t blame her. I can’t expect her to share with me if I’m not willing to do the same. But it’s tough.
Ettore: My father was like me. He was in the same profession.
He and my mother had the same arrangement as Vera and I.
I never saw love between them. I never felt it from my father.
It was duty, duty, duty. As messed up as it sounds, he did it for the right reasons.
In his day, the city was in a far worse state.
He fought, tooth and nail, to bring in a slice of heaven. Now, I’m continuing their legacy.
Mara: That sounds complicated. But I’m happy he taught you to do good.
Ettore: More good than bad, anyway. Or good via bad, sometimes. It must’ve been tough, Mara, not having an identity growing up.
Mara: Oh, I had so many. I had more personalities than an actor. I tried to be everybody and ended up being nobody. At some point in my twenties, I decided to just stop trying to be anything except decent. I fail sometimes. But I try.
Ettore: You’re more than decent. You’re one of the kindest, most empathetic people I’ve ever met.
Mara: It’s so strange to see you talk like this sometimes, over text. In person, you’re terrifying sometimes.
Ettore: Old habits die hard. But you never need to be scared of me.
Mara: I’m scared of this entire situation. Who you are. What you want to make me do. What will happen to Sylvie if we can’t get this under control.
Ettore: I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier. But I can’t say I regret it either.
Mara: I don’t regret it either. But we’ve come so close to going all the way. I don’t think we can cross that line safely.
Ettore: Maybe the danger is what we want, what we need. On some level. A level we shouldn’t let ourselves indulge in.
Mara: You’re right. It excites me.
Ettore: But if we cross that line, if I claim your perfect body, we won’t be able to stop. Once we truly taste each other.
Mara: Stop, Ettore. I’m working.
I feel disgusted with myself. Of course she is. And here I am, getting a hard-on at my desk.
Ettore: I’m sorry about your parents. I’m sorry about your aunt. I’m sorry the world is such a cruel, cruel place sometimes.
I place my phone down, try to focus on the documents. Fail. A minute later, my phone rings.
It’s Mark.
“Yeah?”
“It was Dante Orsini,” he says.
“Dante… Ruggero’s man?”
“Hmm-mm,” Mark grunts. “He’s on CCTV meeting with Detective Tuffin the day before our meet. Roughing him up. Looks pretty clear he was trying to intimidate him, make him lie about their Cartel shit story.”
“Motherfucker,” I snarl. “Stay available. We’re handling this today.” I hang up and call Ruggero.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“We’re meeting at the basement. Danti Orsini is going to be there.”
A pause. “Is that an order, old friend?”
“Three hours, maximum,” I snap. And you better pray you had nothing to do with this.
I hang up the phone.
Ruggero sits at the head of the table in the basement of one of his clubs, the spot that’s swept for bugs three times a week.
He looks unbothered, picking a piece of fluff from his immaculate suit.
He hasn’t brought any of his men, and I’ve only brought Mark.
I sit, trying to look as calm as he looks.
But I’m seething inside. Is Dante stupid enough to do something without the Calvi go-ahead?
Mark gives me a look, warning me to calm down. He’s right. I need to think. My emotions have been closer to the surface ever since Mara came into my world.
“Where the fuck are they?” I growl, slamming my fist on the table.
Ruggero turns to me slowly. “It’s been two hours since our phone call. You said three.”
“This tardiness is a sign of disrespect.”
“Remember, nothing has been proven yet.”
“He’s on camera threatening Tuffin with a weapon, then Tuffin lies straight to our faces. And when the lie doesn’t work, he vanishes.”
“What purpose would Dante have for wrecking one of your stores?”
To try and provoke us into action, pit us against each other. To push me to hit a Calvi establishment in retaliation. To start a conflict so that the Calvis can seize what’s mine and turn this city into a Calvi playground.
Finally, the door opens. Bastian walks in, dragging Dante behind him. Bastian has a shit-eating grin on his face, proud of his accomplishment. He throws Dante onto the floor and takes out his gun.
Mark and I stand.
“Put down the gun,” I growl.
Bastian tilts his head at me in confusion. “What?”
I look at Ruggero. He gestures at his nephew. “This isn’t your grievance, Bastian. Forgive him, Ettore. My nephew is too keen at times.”
Bastian huffs and leans against the wall, putting his gun away. Dante looks around, confused, but still with those cold eyes.
I stand and walk over to him. “Why did you hit the jewelry store?”
“I didn—”
I punch him across the mouth. “Don’t lie to me again.”
He gasps, touching his face. “To make a point.”
“Oh yeah?” I hit him again. “What point is that?”
He crawls to his knees. My father used to say I was too soft for this life, too sensitive. That’s why he had to harden me up. At times like these, I know he’s right. I actually feel for this idiot. But I have to be ice.
“To rule this city, you have to be strong.”
“Some point,” Bastian scoffs. “And you thought you could do this without my uncle’s permission? How did you imagine that would end? Right, Ettore, let me do the honors. We don’t tolerate disobedience.”
“Wait,” I say when Bastian takes out his gun again.
“Bastian,” Ruggero says.
I turn to him, nodding.
“That store had sentimental value to my father. Before he died, I promised I would take good care of it. This filth has violated that. He has caused me to betray my father’s memory. You will grant me the privilege of disposing of him in my own time. In my own manner.”
Ruggero glances at Bastian. I wonder what they’re thinking. Maybe, Shit, what if Dante talks? Or perhaps there’s nothing to be learned, either way I’ll find out, one way or the other.
“I didn’t take you for a man of such depraved tastes,” Ruggero says carefully. “We deal with our own in our own way.”
“Are you declining my request? Are you happy for it to be known that Ruggero Calvi stands in the way of a man dealing out his own justice?”
“He disobeyed my uncle,” Bastian snaps. “Besides, nobody at your store was hurt. No family members. No made men. This is a matter of hierarchy, not revenge.”
“My nephew is right,” Ruggero says.
I want to come right out and accuse him.
He wants Dante dealt with quickly because he was behind the store bust-up, and he knows we’ll get it out of him.
But accusing a fellow Don without proof is a declaration of war.
And, annoyingly, they’re right. They’ve got more right to dole out this punishment than I do under these circumstances.
An unfounded accusation like this could even turn our hair-thin alliances against us.
“I’m sorry, Ettore,” Ruggero says. “But tradition must prevail here. One of my men overstepped in the crudest way, threatening an alliance which has served us well for years. You must let us handle this.”
I walk over to him, struggling not to clench my hands into fists. “And your nephew, Ruggero? What is his punishment for attempting to trick me, to arrange a date with your daughter without your permission?”
Ruggero places his hand on his chest. “Bastian knows he did wrong, but you wound me, I must confess. Is the idea of being with Ambra such a bad thing?”
The idea of being with anyone except Mara is a bad thing.
“Even if she doesn’t want it?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mark staring at me. I’m going too far.
“Want,” Ruggero mutters, shaking his head. “In this life? We all have our roles to play.”
I wave a hand at Dante, disgusted. He’s a prick who always goes too far, hurts people just because he can. But I suspect this transgression isn’t as simple as it seems.
“You are right, of course, Ruggero,” I say, before I go too far. “This is your business, to handle as you wish.”
I leave the soundproof room, Mark at my shoulder. A muffled gunshot follows shortly after.
“I fucked up,” I tell Mark when we’re back in the car. “We should’ve found Dante ourselves.”
“If Ruggero got word we’d done that, it would’ve been war. Even if the Calvi were behind this, maybe they realized their mistake. We’ll all pretend we believe Dante acted alone and business will go on as usual.”
“Sure,” I grunt. “Or we just showed them they can cross the line and get away with it.”
“It might be true,” Mark says. “Dante could’ve acted alone. He always was a prick.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I nod. “I want to speak to Dante’s men. Discreetly. Find a way.”
“You got it, Ettore.”