Chapter 4
FOUR
Damiano
Churches are supposed to be off-limits. It's an unwritten rule in our world that conflict is kept away from holy ground. Weddings, christenings, funerals are all sacrosanct. At least, they're meant to be.
The Rossis violated that today when they attacked just as Matteo and Giulia began to walk back up the aisle as husband and wife. Fortunately, we had plenty of men on hand to deal with what could easily have become a massacre.
When the Rossi soldiers burst through the door of the church along with Adamo Gianotti and opened fire, we were able to subdue them quickly and with minimal casualties on our side. A couple of Piotr Reznov's men were killed, and we suffered a couple of injuries.
My arm was dislocated, something Matteo rectified for me without hesitation. Lacking any bedside manner, my cousin was none too gentle. From experience, I know the throbbing ache will trouble me for days. Pain is a small price to pay for our survival.
Lorenzo was also hurt.
A bullet grazed his head, causing a nasty gash. It's a testament to his sheer stubbornness that he's still standing.
Both Olivia and Giulia escaped unscathed.
No-one should have to witness such things during a wedding.
Those Rossi assholes have no respect. They never have.
We sent the women away with Reznov while Lorenzo, Matteo, and I brought the surviving attackers here to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city to deal with them.
While my cousin interrogates the other Rossi soldier, Lorenzo and I have sought answers from Gianotti,
"This maggot knows nothing," Lorenzo murmurs as Gianotti stares down at the floor. "He just got in over his head."
"Seems that way."
Gianotti isn't a hardened mafioso. He put up no resistance when we started to question him. From what we've learned, he wasn't even inducted into the Rossi family before they sent him out to attack us. He was merely a boy seeking revenge for the death of the girl he loved.
It's ironic that the people he went to for help are the ones who are actually responsible for her death.
We've already learned from our other prisoner that Mario Rossi ordered the girl killed because she rejected him.
Assuming he was the target of the hit, Matteo has carried guilt that doesn't belong to him.
Gianotti should never have got caught up in this mess but sparing him isn't an option.
He signed his death warrant the moment he set foot inside Santa Maria's with a gun.
"Put him out of his misery," I tell Lorenzo.
Gianotti looks up as my brother draws his weapon. He doesn't have a chance to beg. Lorenzo shoots him in the head. It's a mercy he earned by cooperating,
As Lorenzo lowers his gun, the color drains from his face. He's been off since we arrived at the warehouse. Now he looks to be on the verge of collapse. I should have known he was suffering more than he let on. He barely noticed when Gianni came to stitch up his wound.
He hates my butler, yet he didn't make a fuss when I called the former army medic to tend to him. That should have been my first clue that my brother wasn't feeling right, and I missed it.
Lorenzo sways on his feet and I grab his upper arms to steady him. Being the stubborn ass he is, he shrugs me off.
"I need you to go to the villa and check on the women," I tell him.
He sees through my flimsy excuse to get him out of here. "They're fine. Reznov is with them."
"Reznov isn't family."
Lorenzo snorts. "You think he's defiling Livvy while we're not there to stop him?"
"No." Piotr might not adhere to the same values as we Italians do, but he's an honorable man. "But you know Antonio's got a bug up his ass when it comes to his sister. He won't like Olivia being alone with Piotr for too long."
"Yeah, okay," Lorenzo says. "You got your car keys? I left the Audi somewhere."
"You drove your Bugatti today." I sigh as I realize he doesn't remember. "It's still at the church. Elio will take care of it."
We left my consigliere on site to oversee the cleanup and deal with any cops who decide to stick their noses in our business.
"Elio better not drive it," Lorenzo grumbles. "Asshole shouldn't even have a license."
"As if you're one to talk."
Lorenzo huffs a breath and holds his hand out expectantly. "So, your keys?"
"I need my car."
When we're done here, I'll drive Matteo to the villa he's been staying at and then return to Violetta. I've already been away from her longer than I intended.
I go to the door and find Giorgio waiting in the corridor. "When did you get here?"
"Ten minutes ago. I came with Riccardo." He nods toward the next door along the corridor. "He's with Matteo."
There's no need to ask Giorgio why he's out here. He isn't a fan of torture. His aversion doesn't make him any less useful to me. He may not enjoy tormenting our enemies, but when I need someone taken out with surgical precision, he's the man I turn to.
"Drive my brother to the villa, then go to La Stanza Rossa. I want you to take charge of running my clubs and restaurants."
Giorgio raises an eyebrow, surprised I'm handing him the responsibility. He's been with me for a few years now, since we expanded our operations outward from Rome. He's proved loyal. It's time I moved him up.
"It's an honor, boss. You can count on me."
"Just keep it all running smoothly." I've given too much of my energy to the hospitality business lately, spending more of my time at La Stanza Rossa than I should. I don't want to consider too closely why I've been fixated on the club where Violetta works.
Giorgio nods. He steps forward to help Lorenzo as he staggers toward the door. My brother, acting like a belligerent drunk, shoves him away. With the patience a parent might show a toddler, Giorgio shepherds him along the corridor to the exit.
When they're gone, I take a moment to draw breath before walking into the other room.
"His name is Pietro Marrone," Matteo tells me. "He's a low-level soldier. The Rossi family is on its last legs and attacking the wedding was Mario's desperate attempt to take us out before the organization collapses completely. Once you've dealt with the last of them, you can rest easy."
I nod. "Did he tell you how they knew Giulia was at the nightclub, about the wedding?"
"Yeah, some blonde in your nightclub is fucking one of your drivers and passing on what she learns from him," Matteo replies.
"Blonde?" My mind instantly goes to Violetta but it can't be her. She's been locked down at my house and had no way of finding out where the wedding was taking place.
"I'm thinking Elena," Riccardo says.
"Elena?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Yeah, blonde hair, big tits, works the bar in La Stanza Rossa."
I nod, remembering now who he's talking about. "Which of my men is she fucking?"
Riccardo's jaw clenches. "I don't know, but I'll find out."
Before I can ask whether his anger is because he has some personal interest in this woman, Matteo interrupts. "Are we done with this asshole? I want to get back to my wife."
"Maybe you should clean up first," I suggest. Giulia may have grown up in a mafia family, but I doubt she'll be thrilled if her new husband comes home drenched in blood.
"There's a shower," Riccardo says. "Last door on the right."
Matteo nods. He grabs his jacket off the back of the chair and slips out of the room. Riccardo pulls a knife from his belt and holds it out to me. "You want to do the honors?"
Not afraid of getting my hands dirty, I take the knife from him. Grabbing a fistful of Marrone's hair, I tilt his head back. He groans softly, barely alive anyway, as I draw the blade across his throat.
As the last vestiges of life drain from his body, he struggles to free his hands, no doubt desperate to seal the wound. He emits a hideous gargling noise and the room stills. I hand the weapon back to Riccardo. He wipes it clean on Marrone's shirt.
"Giorgio is taking over the bars and clubs. You'll need to fill his spot on the security team."
Riccardo nods. "Quite the step up for him."
"Yes, but he's capable."
"He is," Riccardo agrees. "You want me to keep an eye on him?"
"No, deal with Elena and whoever gave her information, and then I want you to focus on recruitment. If we're going to deepen our cooperation with the consortium, we need to increase our numbers."
"I can do that." Riccardo's jaw tightens. I know what he's going to say before he opens his mouth. "But I want you to allow me to deal with Elena in my own way."
"As long as you find out who gave her information and why she passed it on, I don't care if you fuck her." I look him straight in the eye. "But I want answers."
Riccardo tenses, then relaxes. He lays a hand on my shoulder. "And when will I need to buy a new suit?"
I frown. "A new suit?"
"For the next Volante wedding."
He chuckles when he sees my expression, which I'm sure reflects a distinct lack of amusement.
"Don't worry, il mio amico," he says. "It can't go worse than Matteo's."
I'm not convinced he's right about that. Nothing involving Violetta feels simple. I don't know her well, but I suspect she has an inner fire she’s not yet shown me.
There was certainly an air of defiance about her this morning. My wedding and the marriage that follows could be a total shit-show if I don't establish control from the start. Violetta will soon learn my rules and the consequences of breaking them.