Chapter 57 MARCELLO
Enzo has glued himself to me. I have no way to rid myself of his presence short of shooting him, and given the fact that I'm about to confront the woman who is the reason for Violet's injuries.
I understand his desire to be part of it.
Understanding it, however, is a far cry from being happy about it.
"How long are you planning to stay in the city?" I inquire. It's not a polite question. Having the capo of another mafia family from a different territory around is always a danger. No matter the family ties.
"As long as it takes," he replies dryly. We both know he's not going anywhere until he resolves his family issues.
"I can't allow you to harm Bianca, regardless of what she did," I reiterate my previous statement.
His sigh is deep and full of inner conflict. His hazel eyes, a perfect replica of Violet's, are filled with indecision that contradicts the brutalness of his expression. Which, in all fairness, is a result of the many scars.
"I was going to divorce her for another woman," he says, looking out the window. "That's why she left."
Bianca alluded to that, but I hadn't been sure if I believed her at the time.
I've had a chance to get to know Enzo over the past few days, and he is not the type of man who would kill his entire family.
His wife? Possibly. But not his kids. His love for them is obvious.
I'm not convinced that Bianca didn't feel threatened by him and ran, but I'm also not convinced that she didn't run out of vindictiveness over her husband's affair.
Whatever the true reason was, it's none of my concern.
I'm not getting in the middle of their marital problems other than making sure this man doesn't kill my future wife's mother.
Violet may be angry at her right now, but her death would devastate her.
"She is a very vindictive person," Enzo continues, as if he plugged the thoughts from my head. "She was… is a good mother, I'll give her that, but she's also the most selfish, manipulative person I've ever met."
I keep quiet. He seems to need to get this off his chest.
"I'm probably to blame for how I handled things," he shrugs.
"I was young and stupid when it came to wives or mistresses.
I would have let her keep her lifestyle, compensated her generously, and shared the kids with her, but she…
" he shakes his head. "She just up and left me. Without a word. For twenty years."
Silence fills the SUV. There is nothing for me to say, and he's in his own personal hell, reliving years of having no idea where his kids were, of not even knowing if they were still alive.
"I can't hurt the mother of my children. I couldn't do it then, and I can't do it now." He sounds defeated.
"Fuck," he sums it up.
A sentiment I can agree with. "Fuck."
The SUV comes to a stop. "You still want to go?" I ask Enzo.
He opens the door on his side of the car and exits. "Let's meet the bitch who thought she could hurt mi piccola Violetta."
Fuck. That seems to be the word of the day.
Marco has brought the yacht down to the furthest end of the dock, a place where nobody would see Margarita should she get out of the cabin she's being held in.
"Nice," Enzo comments, noting the sleek design of my boat, L'Ultima Mano. He notices the name and chuckles appreciatively. "The last hand?"
I shrug. It's a poker term. Indicating the last hand of the game. Which is fitting. For most people who get a ride on her, it is the end of their game.
"I like it," he says, slapping me on the shoulder. "Are you a poker player?"
"Only with worthy opponents," I reply.
"Come to Vegas. I'll provide the right opponents for you."
I have a feeling I'm going to take him up on that offer since Violet will want to stay in contact with him.
An idea occurs to me. An idea to get Enzo back to Vegas and out of my hair, while fixing the wedding venue and planning.
I'll have to run it by Violet first; it's not as romantic as the Maldives, but I can make up for it with a first-rate honeymoon.
"I might take you up on that. Isn't it the father of the bride's responsibility to pay for the wedding?"
He stops dead in his tracks. "Is this your way of asking for her hand in marriage?" He raises the eyebrow that is cut in half.
"I don't need your permission," I retort.
"I'll take that as you asking me for her hand." He ignores my response. "Let's see how my Violetta likes the idea."
His hand moves over the sleek white fiberglass of the yacht's hull. "Too bad I don't have a need for something like this in Vegas. She's a beauty."
"I might buy you one and put her out on Lake Mead for you."
If he's surprised that I know the lay of his land, he doesn't show it. "It would be a waste; she was made to be free and out in the ocean."
"How about I let you take her out whenever you come by to visit the grandkids?"
At that, he laughs. Loud and hard. He almost looks happy, as much as he can with his distorted features. "Deal."
"Well, let's have a word with that she-wolf." Enzo moves forward.
Marco waits for us by the entrance to the lower decks. "Do you want us to go out?"
"Yes, the usual spot and start chumming." I nod at him.
He looks grim. As grim as I feel. I've never hurt a woman in my life, and I never thought I would.
Neither have my men. We keep women out of our business affairs.
But for Margarita, I may make an exception.
She hurt Violet, and I don't have an ounce of mercy in me for her.
She could have killed her; that thought alone is enough to send my blood raging through my body.
First though, we need to find out why the fuck she's been gunning for me for the last few months.
I had no personal contact with her prior to these attacks, so I have no idea why she would form a grudge against me.
A grudge hard enough to fuel multiple attempts to end my life.
"Chumming?" Enzo looks impressed. "I think I like your techniques."
I don't reply and lead him down to the lower salon, from where the other cabins spread out.
Marco is standing guard by one of the guest rooms. He nods at us and opens the door.
Enzo and I have to duck to get through the threshold, since it's only six feet high, but that's okay, it gives me a moment to take in the state of the room.
Anything not anchored to the wall or ground is in shambles on the floor.
Even the bedding has been torn off the bed.
Feathers are everywhere, from the ripped pillows.
Looks like Donna Margarita unleashed her fury.
She looks as beautiful as ever. She doesn't look a day over forty, even though she's in her late seventies. Her hair is not as carefully styled as usual, and her clothes are wrinkled from having slept in them for days, but she still holds herself with the haughtiness of a royal queen.
"Marcello Orsi, have you come to beg my forgiveness? If you think I'm about to forget—"
I raise my hand and shut her up midsentence. "You tried to kill me several times, and you nearly killed my fiancée. Why?"
My tone is cold enough for her to realize how dire her situation is. That this is not a case of mistaken identity or me attempting to intimidate her. Her face turns ashen, probably at the realization that her life is on the line.
She recovers quickly. Her chin juts out, and her eyes blaze death my way. "I got your little message, Marcello. Fabio."
"Her lover," I turn to Enzo, explaining, "I executed him because she sent him after me." I don't owe Enzo an explanation, but it gives me a moment to regain my senses and not wrap my hands around her scrawny neck.
"Sounds like Fabio was a soft man. You should have chosen better," Enzo replies, staring Margarita down.
I turn back to Margarita, shaking my head. "Nice try. But Fabio died after your first few attempts to have me killed failed. So he wasn't the motive."
She lets out a derisive snort, not the least bit perturbed that I've caught her in a lie. She shrugs, then shifts, summoning just enough outrage to sell the next line. But I can feel it in my gut, whatever truth she's about to offer, it's only a fraction of the whole story.
"You helped our leverage get away," she snaps. "You stopped Kingsley's assassination. Do you have any idea how much money those two stunts cost us?"
I get it—money talks. And in our world, it screams. Losing that trafficking hub in Sicily must have cost her millions.
But stopping the hit on Senator Kingsley?
That was the real blow. By assigning him a protective detail, I didn't just save his life; I shut down her family's pipeline.
Kingsley didn't die as planned, and the bill went through and put an end to human trafficking.
As far as leverage goes, I'm drawing a blank. "Leverage?"
She shakes her head dismissingly as if this is old news, and by now I suppose it is. "The Costas."
Ah, the Sicilian Mayor and his family. I did get them off the island and to the states.
"I might believe that's part of your beef against me, but that's not all, is it?" I challenge.
Her gaze turns to Enzo, "Who is this scarred henchman you brought with you, Marcello? Aren't you man enough to kill me?"
"My apologies for not introducing my guest, and future father-in-law, Enzo Carbone. You might know him as Il Macellaio," I fill her in.
Her eyes narrow. Margarita has always been a woman larger than life, but now I see the capo in her.
Rumors have it that she's been running the Giordano family since her husband's death; rumors I didn't believe until now.
This is not a woman; she's a capo, making it easier for me to get used to the idea of killing her.
She's chosen to play in a man's world; she can die like any man would who dared cross my path.
"What does that have to do with me?" Margarita asks.