13. Dante
Chapter 13
Dante
L ast night, my wife finally gave me her virtue. A prize I’ve been hoping to get for a while now. Not only is my dick finally back in the game, but I think deep down Arabella likes me. That knowledge should make me feel like I’m on top of the world, but unfortunately, I’m feeling the opposite.
Two things have been eating at me since yesterday. The first is my father’s will. I found a copy in one of his drawers when I was looking for the damn photo of Arabella that Edoardo claims exists. I had no idea that most of Papa’s fortune was left to my brother.
Alexander had me believe it was fifty-fifty. Well, maybe he didn’t exactly come out and say that was the case, but he failed to divulge the truth.
Finding out that I was pushed aside yet again was a huge blow. My brother gave me half … actually, he gave me more than half. I got this house, the two million Alexander found in Papa’s safe, on top of fifty percent of all the family’s assets.
I’m not exactly surprised that Alexander didn’t tell me; he has spent his entire life protecting and looking out for me, reminiscent of how Arabella cares for Lucia .
I’ve had this hollow ache since discovering what I always believed deep down … I was never enough for him. The weight of my father’s betrayal continues to sink in. I spent my life helping my father build this empire, always doing his bidding and sacrificing everything for a bloodline that had never truly valued me in return. I almost fucking died for this family.
My second concern is something innocent Lucia told me yesterday after I picked her up from the airport.
“Papa left his phone on the dining room table the other day while meeting with his men. I thought I’d give you a sneaky call so I could speak with Arabella, but when I pressed on the last international number in his recent call list—which I presumed was yours—some other man answered the phone.”
“What kind of accent did he have?” I asked out of curiosity because Stefano should not be dealing with anyone else in this country but me.
“He had the same accent as you but an Italian name. I think it was Edgardo or Edoardo.”
“Edoardo?”
“Do you know him?”
I never answered her question, but those words had a chill running down my spine.
Why the fuck would Edoardo’s number be on Stefano’s recent call list? It could be a coincidence—he’s not the only Edoardo in existence—but my gut tells me there is more to this. What? I have no clue, but I intend to find out.
The twisted darkness inside me wants to tie that motherfucker to a chair and slowly break him until he gives up the information I need, but I have to be sure before I charge in all guns blazing. One wrong move and it could blow up in my face. I’ve always been a little gung-ho and reckless, but I have my Famiglia and a wife to consider now.
I need to know who’s with me and who’s playing both sides. If Stefano is in on it as well, that changes everything—he’s too smart to be underestimated, so I can’t let my emotions cloud my judgement.
It’s a dangerous game, but one I plan to win. That monster inside me rarely comes out to play, but rest assured, when he’s unleashed, hell will rain down on anyone who has double-crossed me.
“Are we going somewhere?” Romeo asks as he slides into the passenger seat of my fire-engine-red Ferrari, raising an eyebrow as he glances in my direction. If I’m being honest, he looks a little terrified.
It’s unusual for me to drive alone, especially without my security in tow, but Romeo is the only person I can completely trust right now. I can’t do this alone—not with so much on the line.
I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I rev the engine, the sound slicing through the air as I shift into gear and take off down the street. “I want to talk—just the two of us—you’re my underboss, and I’d appreciate your input on this.”
“So this isn’t a hit?”
“No, you dumb fuck. You’re my underboss … my best friend. Why would you think I’d want to whack you?”
“I’m your best friend?” he asks.
My eyes leave the road briefly, and when I see the goofy smile curving his lips, I say, “If you keep looking at me like that, I might change my mind.”
He schools his face immediately. “It’s just weird to see you on your own. And for the record, you’re my best friend too.”
I squirm a little in my seat and groan. This is why I keep my cards close to my chest. I don’t like all this fluffy bullshit. “ You’re acting like a chick, so stop … please. It’s making me feel uncomfortable. I have my reasons for being here alone; like I said, I wanted your input on something.”
“On what?” he asks.
I glance at him again as I shift up another gear. “What are your thoughts on Edoardo?”
“Edoardo?”
“Yes.”
“My honest thoughts?”
“No, lie to me, fucker. Of course, I want your honesty.”
He blows out a long breath. “I’m not a fan.”
My head snaps in his direction. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“Elaborate.”
“Why? Has something happened?”
“I’m not sure, but my gut tells me we have a rat on the inside.”
His eyebrows jump in surprise. “You think Edoardo has betrayed the family?”
“It’s possible.”
He cracks his tattooed knuckles. “I’ll fucking kill that cunt myself if he has.”
I chuckle. “You’ll need to get in line.”
“No offence to your father, but I always thought Edoardo was a bad influence on him … a bit of a snake. There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Funny, my brother thinks the same.”
“Mind if I ask why you’re focused on Edoardo in particular?” he presses, his tone a mix of genuine interest and the kind of edge that comes with someone who knows better than to ask too many questions.
“There are several reasons. Did you know he was the only one out of all our men who never reached out to me after the shooting? ”
“Hmm,” he hums.
“I became even more suspicious of him when he recognised Arabella. He claims my father showed him a photograph of her, but I’ve practically turned the house upside down, and I’m yet to find the image.”
“Is there a chance he may have met her when he was in Italy?”
“You know what my father was like … he never took anyone with him when he was doing his bidding. Not even me.”
“Hmm,” he hums again, but this time, it sounds more like a growl, as if he’s processing something deeper.
“If Arabella had met him somewhere along the line, wouldn’t she have recognised him when he came to the house?”
The frown lines on Romeo’s forehead deepen as he nods slowly. “Yeah, she would have.”
“Then Lucia said something yesterday when I picked her up from the airport.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she had access to Stefano’s phone the other day and tried calling me to talk to her sister. She redialled the last international number in his call list, thinking it was me, and someone named Edoardo answered.”
“The fuck!”
“Suspicious, right?”
“Are you going to question him about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“If this goes deeper than I think—all the way back to Stefano Rossi—then I need to be sure before I make a move.”
“When that first shipment was hijacked, I thought it was bad luck. When it happened again, I had my doubts. After the shooting on Christmas day …” He pauses for a moment before ad ding, “How the fuck did they gain access to the property so easily?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Romeo sits up straighter in his seat, his body tense as the veins in his neck protrude, and his face turns bright red. The sudden shift in his demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed. I can feel the heat of his anger radiating off him. I like that his passion is as strong as mine.
“It’s too much of a coincidence, right?”
“What’s our next move?”
“I was hoping we could brainstorm.”
“It’s going to take every ounce of strength I have not to lunge across the table and slit that filthy fucking rat’s neck next time we meet.”
I’ve always admired his loyalty to the Famiglia . It’s the reason why he stands beside me now.
Despite the implications of this dilemma, I still manage to bark out a laugh. Romeo is a good guy, but like me, if he’s pushed too far, he’s lethal. He had a shit life before joining our crew, so I know there’s a lot of pent-up anger simmering under the surface.
“I know. If I get confirmation this drama with those Mortelli fuckers leads back to one of our men, I’ll go fucking nuclear.”
“I’ll be right there beside you, fratello (Brother).”
We have a plan … well, the makings of one. First on the agenda is to get hold of Edoardo’s phone—not the one I gave him, but the one he carried beforehand. Hopefully, it will provide the necessary confirmation, and we can proceed from there .
First, I need to get him out of town so we can search his house.
“Dante,” Edoardo says, entering my office. “You wanted to see me.”
“I did,” I reply, gesturing towards the seat opposite my desk. “Sit.”
“I noticed the helicopter in the paddock when I drove in. Are you going somewhere?”
“No, you are.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I am? Where?”
“I have a shipment of tobacco that arrived on the container ship yesterday. In light of all the issues we’ve had lately, I’m sending you down to Sydney to ensure the exchange goes smoothly.”
Illegal tobacco has turned into a multi-billion-dollar industry in Australia over the past decade. High tobacco taxes, intended to curb smoking and increase government revenue, have unintentionally fuelled the black market, offering cheaper options for smokers and fuelling organised crime, making it incredibly profitable.
“Can I ask why you are sending me? This isn’t what I usually do.”
He’s right; he usually doesn’t do much aside from running his big, fat mouth, but I try not to let him see my anger. I can’t have him getting suspicious, especially if he’s going to return home and find his house torn apart.
“I need someone I can trust. Do you have an issue with that?”
Those words taste bitter on my tongue, but if I’m going to pull this off, they are words that need to be said.
“Sure, I can do that. What time do you want me to leave? I’ll head home now and pack a few things.”
“I need you to leave now.”
“Right now?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I? ”
“You have your new phone on you, right?”
“I do,” he replies, tapping the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
I can only hope his other phone isn’t on his person, which is why I needed to spring this trip on him without any notice. I can’t risk him going home to get it if it’s not.
“How long will I be down there?”
“A couple of days, tops.”
“I’ll need to go home and pack some clothes.”
“There’s no time for that. I’ve organised a penthouse suite close to the dockyards,” I tell him as I open the top drawer of my desk and collect the envelope inside. After placing it down and sliding it towards him, my eyes lock with his. “There’s five grand in there … that should be more than enough to cover your costs. If everything goes well, I’ll have a bonus waiting for you when you return.”
“If this was pre-planned, how come I’m only finding out about it now? You could’ve given me a heads-up when you summoned me here.”
He may think he’s backed me into a corner, but I was already prepared for him to ask that question.
“Initially, I called you here for a different reason. As you know, Arabella’s sister is staying with us for a week. The women have asked me to take them out, and I was going to have you come along, but Lucia specifically requested I bring Romeo. You’ll be going to Sydney in his place.”
“So I’m an afterthought?”
I clear my throat as fury pumps through my veins. “I have two things planned today, and correct me if I’m wrong, you were initially part of them both … that’s hardly an afterthought.”
“It’s unfair that Romeo gets to spend the day with your wife’s beautiful sister, and I have to go to Sydney and deal with a bunch of feral wharfies.”
I exhale slowly, the frustration bubbling up in my chest, but I force myself to keep calm by silently counting to ten in my head. “An order is an order. If you don’t want to play by the rules, you’re welcome to return your ring and leave the Famiglia .”
He knows as well as I do that there are two ways out of the Cosa Nostra. Life behind bars or wrapped in a fucking tarp.
“Understood,” he says, reaching for the envelope.
“To be clear, my father may have tolerated your insolence, but I assure you I am not him.”
He stands, sliding the envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket with deliberate ease. “If I offended you, I apologise. I was only trying to say I’d rather spend the day with someone … a little more appealing. Lucia Rossi is a beauty.”
“She’s eighteen years old, Edoardo,” I reply, my voice steady. “She’s a bit young for you, don’t you think?”
He shrugs nonchalantly as a sly grin tugs at his slimy lips. “She’s of age.”
I clear my throat, standing up to match his height. My fingers tighten around the button on my suit jacket as I slip it through the buttonhole. My patience has reached its limit with this man.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“What do you mean you found nothing?” I ask Romeo, seething.
“We ripped the place apart, boss. Pulled up floorboards, kicked in gyprock to look between the wall cavities … we found nothing incriminating. No phones … no burner phones or computers. We didn’t even find a safe.”
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.
“I’m going to do some more digging in the morning. He might have another place … somewhere he stashes his stuff. A mistress, maybe?”
“He’s too untrusting to leave evidence with someone else.”
“I’ve put a tracker on his car … that might lead somewhere.”
“How will we explain the mess you made of his house?” I ask.
“Simple … we don’t. We play dumb.”
Edoardo has been living alone for many years. His wife was sent packing when he found out she was infertile, which speaks volumes about the type of man he is. He never remarried, but I know he’s had other women since.
He brought one of them to my father’s 65th birthday party. She was young enough to be his granddaughter. He paraded her around like some kind of arm candy, as if her youth were something to be proud of. To me, it was sick and depraved. It honestly turned my stomach.
“Keep me updated,” I say.
“Will do.”
“Thanks.”
“Dante,” he says before I end the call. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it. I won’t rest until I do.”
I rise from my desk, approach the bar, and pour myself a scotch. It may only be the middle of the day, but I need something to take the edge off.
I tilt back my head and gulp down the amber liquid before refilling it. The ice inside the glass shifts with a soft, rhythmic clink as I leave the office to search for my wife. I need the comfort only she can bring.
It’s been three days since Arabella gave me the ultimate gift, and to say I’m desperate to have her again would be an understatement. I’ve given her ample space to heal, but her time is up. Tonight, she will be underneath me again, mark my words .
I’ve had plenty of scorching hot sex in my time—with countless women—but Arabella has shown me it’s far more meaningful when it’s with someone you care about.
She’s quickly becoming the light in my darkness, the one thing that makes the shadows feel less suffocating. When she’s close, everything else fades. The worries, the weight of the world, and those relentless fucking noises in my head. I don’t even have nightmares when she’s wrapped in my arms.
She somehow makes my life … better .
For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like there was a part inside me that was incomplete. At first, I told myself it was just my mother’s absence. I was only a boy when we lost her. I experienced something similar when Alexander moved to Sydney.
Sometimes, I convinced myself I was chasing my father’s approval to fill that void. But now, since bringing Arabella into my life and letting her into my world, I’m starting to believe maybe she’s the missing piece I’ve been searching for all along.
What we share isn’t love, not yet anyway, but there’s something between us. A spark that seems to grow a little stronger with each passing day.
When you start with what could best be described as mutual disdain, the only place you can go from there is up. I want this to work. I want to have the kind of marriage my parents had—that forever kind of love.
Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I would’ve been able to stay in this house if it wasn’t for her. I thought I’d be fine returning here, but I still can’t bring myself to venture anywhere near the rear of the house. It feels like a part of me is still stuck in that moment, and I can’t seem to shake it.
I head towards the kitchen first, but when I don’t find Arabella or Lucia in there, I move to the main room. It’s also empty.
That’s when I hear their laughter in the distance … they’re ou tside, by the pool. My knees buckle and nearly give out beneath me as I grip the back of the couch with my free hand for support. My fingers tremble slightly as I bring the glass to my lips. The thought of stepping out there—of them being in that space—makes bile rise in my throat.
I finish my drink and turn sharply, leaving the room without a second thought. I’m not ready to go out there and face the memories of that day.
I don’t know if I ever will be.