Chapter 12
Matt
During the next two weeks, I tried to pick up the pieces of myself, gluing them back together with spit, but it seemed to be lacking adherence properties.
To make things worse, every damn lead we had on Hiro was a dead fucking end and a waste of time and energy. Yet, that didn’t stop me from following each little crumb.
My head was always someplace else, though. Wandering off to Francesca twenty-four-seven. She was omnipresent. She was in everything I did and in every thought I had. She had crawled so deeply under my skin that she was now an intrinsic part of me.
There had been no news about her. Everything and everyone was silent. Something wasn’t right.
I pulled out my fifth cigarette in less than twenty minutes from the pack and lit it. I’d been chain-smoking ever since that fucking day, one month ago. Nicotine had become my new oxygen, yet it was starting to lose whatever calming effect it once had. One drag was enough to burn almost half of the damn thing.
Why haven’t I heard from Don Amato yet?
We had an understanding. I knew by now that Francesca would have wanted to be alone before going home. It was her thing. She needed the space to deal with her demons on her own, and I could respect that to a certain extent.
What I couldn’t have, or wouldn’t, if I’m being honest, was no fucking news about her after she left my office two damn weeks ago.
Don Amato had agreed to let me know what was what. And part of that meant he’d let me know that she was safe when she got there.
But he was radio fucking silent.
So I cracked and called her uncle. I needed to know she was safe.
“Don Amato,” I said as a greeting. The man was either expecting me to call or doubting why I hadn’t already because the damn phone hardly rang.
“I didn’t think you’d hold off for so long.”
“I thought we had an agreement.”
“We have an agreement.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. It’s been two weeks, and you’ve told me nothing.” I took another puff from my cigarette before blowing out the smoke with such rage as if I could rid my lungs of the agony I was feeling along with it.
“Yes, indeed.” He muttered, almost quizzically. “The shipment just arrived. My men are inspecting the goods as we speak.”
“What?” I knew he didn’t mean what my brain registered, but that damn agony? It just turned into something a lot less philosophical and much more homicidal.
“I’ll be back, Poppet. Let me just take this call, and I’ll be right with you.” I heard over the speaker, even though it seemed like Enzo was covering the microphone of his cell.
Does the old guy not know about call silencing? I guess not. A door shut in the background before I heard another one opening and a heavy sigh escaping Don Amato’s lips.
“My apologies, Matteo. I didn’t want her to realize you were on the other side of the call. Francesca arrived not even an hour ago. My sister-in-law and nephews are with her. She’s finally home.”
I could hear relief in his voice, but fuck me if that word didn’t have the exact opposite effect on me. Home. This was her home. I was her fucking home.
I swallowed my self-inflicted injured pride. I knew it was all my doing, but that didn’t mean it was easy. I closed my eyes, taking another deep draw of nicotine, hoping it would settle my nerves before asking what I needed to know.
“How is she?” I let the smoke out through my nose as I worded my concern. Never could I have expected the punch in the gut I was about to receive. Over the damn phone, nonetheless.
“She seems strangely well.”
Well?
How can she be well when I’m wallowing in misery over here? She was very far from well when she left this office.
“What do you mean, well?” I asked, grabbing the tumbler from my desk and pacing the office like a caged tiger. I tipped down the rest of my drink and clutched the glass in my hand as I waited for his reply.
“I’m not sure how to explain this, but she seems unaffected. Did you give her the divorce papers? Did she sign them?”
“Yes, I fucking gave her the papers!” I grunted into the phone. “She was not unaffected when she left this office. What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she just made peace with the situation.”
At the sound of that, I threw the damn glass against the wall, the shattered pieces flying all over upon impact.
“Have you told her about the meeting? Is that why?” I tried to find an explanation.
Francesca couldn’t just suddenly be fine with our divorce. She couldn’t just be fine with the way I treated her. Because being fine meant she never gave a flying fuck!
“No. I haven’t told her anything yet.”
“Then how can she be fine?” I practically shouted into the phone.
I should want this. I should want her to be okay, but the egotistic fucker in me wanted her to be as broken as I was. She couldn’t just be fine.
Selfish motherfucker. I seem to have all the best fucking colors without her.
“Something’s up. Find out what happened and let me know.” I momentarily forgot who I was speaking with, dashing out commands as if Don Amato was a mere soldier who followed orders.
“Don’t push your fucking luck, Boy.” He berated. And even though I knew he was right, I still sulked like a damn child but held my tantrum for when the time was right.
“Fine. I’ll do it myself.”
With that, I hung up the phone. Hellbent on finding out why my wife was so happily divorced. I refused to think she’d been playing me all these months.
Besides, we were waiting to set a date for the meeting with The Commission. And when that day came, I needed Francesca to hate me like she never had before. No nonsense about being fine.
Her hate was essential, and if she had lost her grudge against me on her way back to Detroit, I’d make sure to plant a damn new supply of fury right at the base of her heart.
Because there’s no way I’m going through the fucking hell of being without her for my plan to fall apart.
Francesca
“Everything okay?” I asked my uncle as he came back into the living room. My mother had walked off to find someone on the staff and have them prepare my room while Antonio and Michael had business to attend to. Rafe wasn’t home today, but I’d get to see him tomorrow, maybe.
“Yes, just business.” He smiled, waving me off. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I lied.
It took me much longer than anticipated to put this mask on, and yet, with that simple question, I was ready to shatter again. But I couldn’t, so I swallowed my self-pity and squared my shoulders.
“What shipment were you talking about? Any new business inflow?” I needed the distraction to pull myself together before the ultimate question came. None of them knew why I was back home.
“Nothing much. Just babysitting some merchandise for a new business partner. They pay rent and security, and we throw in some extra control to ensure unloading goes without issues.”
“And distribution?”
“They have their own network so, no. But it works out perfectly. Low risk and high pay deal. Besides, it's practically government approved so we’ll never have any cops sniffing around.” He chuckled on his inside joke that I didn’t quite understand.
“Government approved?”
“Every brick of coke has the Volkov crest on it. Even though most wouldn’t recognize it, my eyes could never bypass that detail. An ambassador with political amnesty is practically a free piece on this chessboard. Immune to anything that might tarnish that pristine reputation of his.”
Vladimir Volkov, the Russian Ambassador, is a Bratva Pakhan. What I couldn’t understand was why he was closing deals with both us and the Yakuza.
“The Russians? You’ve made a deal with the Bratva?”
“We tested the waters a few months before your wedding with a couple of test runs, and then they went quiet. Now they’re back, and the deal is steady.”
Jesus fuck.
My first urge was to call Matt and tell him. It could just be a strange coincidence, but something told me there was more to it. But it wasn't that easy anymore, was it?
As per what Hiro’s brother told us, they were working with the Bratva, so could this new sudden and oh-so-golden deal with the Mafia be more than what it seemed?
“How much cocaine are we talking?”
“More than I’ve ever seen in a lifetime of being a Made Man.”
That’s where Hiro got his product from, and I couldn’t believe we were cooperating with his operation.
I couldn’t help the shiver of disgust that ran down my spine. After Matt opened up about his twin brother’s death, I apparently started sharing his repulse for the stuff.
“But we have time to discuss the state of our business. Right now, I want to know how you are. I’m not sure I’m buying this ‘I’m fine’ show you’re putting on. That’s for your mother. Now that we are alone, I want to know the truth. I know you loved him. Signing those papers couldn’t have been easy for you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, my mind going over each conversation I had with my mom and my uncle since I signed those sentencing sheets. How could he know?
“Matt told you?”
My uncle stilled for a second but quickly regained his composure. If I hadn’t known him for my whole life, I wouldn’t have caught that small crack. But he was the one who taught me how to read the room. How to pay attention to every movement, every breath, every damn blink.
“How do you know about this?” I exploded. “Why have you been speaking to Matt?”
His eyes softened as he looked at me, pity swimming in his expression as he started walking towards me. He wore the exact same one the day he told me I was to marry into another Mafia family.
“Francesca—”
“No, stop.” I held out my hands, stopping his progress. “You knew before I did, didn’t you? Was this part of the deal?”
I could understand that Matt had finally gotten his part of the bargain, but what did my uncle stand to gain from this? “You two gambled with my life again?”
There was disdain in my voice. I couldn’t believe my ears right now.
“It was for the best.”
“No! Fuck that. The best is what I decide it is, not you or him.” I was angry. I was seething, to be more exact. But most of all, I was hurt that they decided to play God with me again. “I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll talk to you later.”
Without giving him time to protest, I turned my back and headed for the door.
“Stop, Francesca!” He shouted, his tone freezing me right to my spot. “Sit down, we need to talk.”
I stood still, weighing my options before conceding. Slowly, I made my way to the couch, not hiding the disdain on my face. Whatever damn excuse he was about to make, I didn’t want to hear a single word.
“I’m stepping away.” He started, I was intrigued, but three words weren't enough to have me lose the sour mood I was in, so I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to elaborate. “I want to extend my life expectancy, and we both know the hazards of the mafiosi lifestyle. Your brothers are capable, well-intentioned, and strong men, but I’d like you to take my place. Every capo we represent in The Commission has agreed to this, so we just have to convince the Dons at the table.”
“Ah, that’s not happening,” I laughed sardonically, knowing just how ingrained the misogyny was in those old minds.
“It’s happening.” My uncle cooed confidently, as if he knew for sure how to manipulate them into accepting a woman at the men’s table for the very first time in history. “We just have to show up to the next meeting and state our case. The majority wins, and we will have those votes on our side.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Just trust me, Poppet.” He said, a candid smile on his face. “Your dream will come true. They will see you just as I do and know you are the best choice for the position. As long as you still want it, this is happening.”
“I want it.” More now than ever before.
I had lost the only thing valuable in my life, so stumbling back into my old life felt like a failure. This was one of the only two things that could bring a smile to my face.
The first was stabbing my now ex-husband with a blunt blade and sticking my finger in his wound. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
I'll settle for taking a kingdom instead.