48. Alina
48
ALINA
E smorzaret is delightful. Tomas wants to show me the Llotja de la Seda afterward because it’s right around the corner from the central market, but unfortunately, the Gothic-style trading hall, one of Valencia’s biggest tourist attractions, is closed for renovations. “I can see it from the outside,” I assure Tomas.
“It looks like nothing special from the outside,” he replies a little grumpily. “But the trading hall…” He shrugs. “Ah, well. Let’s go see the Mercat de Colón.”
“Another engagement party venue?” I tease.
He rolls his eyes. “Mothers,” he says in good-natured exasperation.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t been texting you demanding updates.”
“She might be,” he grins. “I have, however, turned off my phone, so I can’t get them.”
I’m having such a good time with Tomas that I almost forget I’m here to meet my father for the first time. My absentee father, who works for the mafia and who might or might not have arranged to have me abducted.
But before I know it, it’s time to leave for the restaurant.
My father is staying in a villa in a small town an hour south of Valencia, and we’re eating at a seafood restaurant in the vicinity. I ask Tomas about the villa on the way over. “Does he own it, do you know, or is he renting it?”
“VDL is renting it,” he replies. “A lot of mafia outfits have a presence in Spain now. Altea, which is an hour and a half south of Valencia, is filled with Russians. Marabella, Barcelona… if you’re a certain class of criminal, Spain is the place to be. But it’s not cost-effective for every high-ranking member of a mafia to rent a villa here, so they often share.”
“Does Antonio Moretti have a house here?” I ask, curious despite myself. “Is there a Venice Mafia presence?”
“There is a house south of the city,” he replies. “I’ve never been to it. But when Antonio visits, he stays with Gabriel.”
“Are they friends?”
“I think so. But friendship is a complicated thing in their world.”
“Their world, not yours?”
He grins easily. “Me? I’m just a low-level drone.”
I somehow doubt it. “Does Antonio Moretti usually loan his private plane out to his low-level drones?” I ask pointedly. “From what I’ve heard, he’s not the altruistic sort.”
It’s a rhetorical question; I’m not looking for an answer, and Tomas doesn’t offer me one. “Valentina looked into Laurenti’s finances. He’s done pretty well for himself, but his expenditures have increased substantially in the last six months. He really wants the top job, and he’s been going through money like water to get it. He’s gambling that if his alliance with the Russians goes through, it’ll catapult him to the top of the shortlist.”
“And what do the Russians get out of it?”
“A foothold into Italy. Whatever that’s worth. Valentina couldn’t find the specifics of the agreement, unfortunately, but your father’s getting the better end of the deal.”
“And marrying his daughter to Damir Malinov, where does that factor into the equation?”
“A marriage is the old-fashioned way to seal these sorts of contracts,” he replies, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Most people have moved on, but Southern Italy…” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “They treat their daughters like property there. It’s barbaric.” He gives me a sidelong look. “This is the world Vidone Laurenti lives in. Be prepared. He’s bet everything on becoming the next VDL boss. If he doesn’t pull it off, he’s in a very precarious position. He’s going to try really hard to get you on board.”
“I can’t imagine what he thinks he could tell me that will make me marry a stranger.”
“He’ll point out what a catch he is,” Tomas says. “Malinov is very rich.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not going to marry some random guy because he can buy me things.”
He squeezes my hand. “Tonight, it’s not me you have to convince, dolcezza,” he replies. “It’s Vidone.”
I exhale in a long breath. My stomach is churning with nerves. “I don’t understand why he invited me to dinner,” I complain. “What if he takes one look at me and is disappointed by what he sees? What if he doesn’t like me? I should have treated this like a first date and insisted we meet in a coffee shop.”
“Why would he be disappointed by what he sees?” Tomas demands.
“It can happen. Not everyone likes me.”
“Then they’re clearly out of their minds. My family loves you. My father was very impressed that you went through the trouble of making me a café bombon.” A smile plays about his lips. “I didn’t tell him about the rat poison. Why destroy his illusions?” He slides the car in front of a large white building with a terracotta-tiled roof and turns off the engine. “We’re here.”
He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. I’d normally point out that my hands aren’t broken, and I can do that on my own, but today, I’m glad for the delay.
I’ve been waiting all my life to meet my father, and it turns out I’m still not ready.