7. Dante
7
DANTE
“I have to say…I’m a bit surprised you’re here.”
Begrudgingly, I take a seat in front of the large oak desk centered in Angelo Lombardi’s office in the back of a local nightclub. When I called the number, I was instantly given this address and time. No hint as to how long I’d be here, just a code word to get in through the door.
A glass of amber liquid is promptly placed in front of me by a girl in shorts that ride up her tan thighs and a white tee. She doesn’t say a word, promptly exiting the room.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Angelo continues, ignoring my silence.
I meet his eyes, refusing to back down from his dark stare. “How much to clear the debt?” I know it won’t just be the six million Marco borrowed. There are always strings—more like tripwires—tied to a mob loan.
“Six million, plus interest. Each day adds more until it’s paid in full.” He lifts a rocks glass of the same liquor I was served in a mocking salute. “However, since you’re new to the debt, I’m willing to offer some…concessions.”
How kind of you, you fucking bastard.
I’m trying to sort out my options. I’m not about to pay off a debt that I had no business in, and I definitely don’t intend to work for this asshole. Not my fault he kept throwing away money on a man that didn’t keep up with his payments.
Marco was set up.
Plenty of mobs work this way—it’s their bread and butter. The more debt the mark accrues, the more aggressive the mob gets about collecting. The stress makes the target desperate for a solution. Marco, like most victims, was drowning before he knew he was in over his head.
I have a trump card. I can go home, back to Italy. I don’t have to stay here. There’s no reason for me to get caught up in this mess.
Except it doesn’t sit well that Marissa’s planning on manipulating some poor girl to save herself and her worthless son.
If Marissa and Liam use Victoria, she’ll be forever linked to the mob, a liability I don’t think Liam will fight to protect.
“I hear Marco’s widow is working out a way to pay the debt herself,” Angelo muses. “Is that true?”
“She mentioned it.”
Angelo leans back in his chair with a soft creak, watching me expectantly. I don’t plan to share anything more. I don’t even know if Liam can pull the scheme off after how badly he’s fucked up with Victoria.
Good for her, but bad for my family.
And we’re using that term loosely.
“When can I expect her to conclude our business?”
“You’d have to ask her.”
Angelo’s jaw ticks but his voice is as smooth and relaxed as ever. “I’m asking you. This is your problem, too, now that you’re aware. I suggest you get more involved.” He lips quirk in the smallest smirk. “You’re the head of the family, after all.”
I wonder how much he knows about Victoria, whether he knows her name.
“Marissa has stated that her son will be marrying into some money,” I offer vaguely, reeling Angelo in to see if he slips up and gives me something I can use. “We aren’t close.”
“Consider yourself lucky then,” Angelo retorts. “That woman is a fucking nuisance.” He tilts his glass, examining the finger of liquid remaining before tossing it back in one gulp. “I would be willing to entertain another form of payment, something I believe would suit your…talents.”
“And what would that be?” I know he’s not talking about my ability to perform each of Paganini’s 24 caprices for solo violin.
“I’ve been looking for an enforcer…I heard you were quite good back in Italy.”
Yeah, hell no. “Where did you hear that from?”
Angelo sets his glass down with a hard clink, a murderous glint in his eyes. “You killed my brother.”
Well, isn’t this fun?
“Dante… Mors,” Angelo tacks on. “Isn’t that the name you earned?”
If I admit it, I may not walk out of this room. I need to hold him off, avoid lying outright without confessing, so I can get the fuck out of here.
“You really expect me to confess to murder? Here? I don’t know you or this building. You could be wearing a wire for all I know.”
Angelo smirks, amused. “I suppose not. You have, after all, served jail time. For a woman.” He pauses, offering me the chance to elaborate. He’ll be waiting a long time for that story. “You’re a passionate man.”
“Join my organization and work off your brother’s debt. Your family’s debt. I’m offering a place at my table. You do this for me, and you can consider all such liabilities void.”
“For how long?”
Angelo lifts his shoulders. “Eh, what’s six million divided by how hard you’ll work for me?” Too long. But when I don’t cower back in my chair, imagining the decades it would take, Angelo changes tactics. “Six years. One for each million I gave your brother.”
“I’ll have to think about it.” Hell. No.
He lifts a brow. “You have another plan?”
“Did you ever discuss the repayment terms with Marco when you loaned him the money?”
Angelo’s face hardens, clearly not appreciating my lack of respect or gratitude for this so-called concession. “Listen here, Moretti, I’m not a cruel man?—”
“Hence why you need men like me.” I stand, needing to get out of this fussy club and away from the annoying bass of techno music. “I’ll need the terms, something in writing, before I make my decision.”
Angelo glowers at me. “What else could you possibly need to know? What terms could matter more than knowing that if I get paid I won’t order your head on a platter?”
“Jobs. What you’d expect me to do, whether my expenses would be paid if?—”
“This isn’t a fucking gang,” Angelo lifts his hands, palm out, seemingly offended. “This organization is my family. All the men who work for me are treated as such. You would be as well.”
“Then you must have a soft heart. That worries me. If you don’t run a tight operation then I run the risk of someone ratting me out?—”
“The only reason I offered you this opportunity,” he hisses, “is because you belonged to the Giordanos. The most elite, the most feared, Italians in the world. Your brother would never have gotten this offer.”
“And what of yours?” I press back calmly. “How did your brother find himself on the wrong side of the Giordano mob?”
“Gambling,” Angelo grimaces, “and screwing the don’s wife.” He lifts his shoulder in a one-sided shrug. “He dug his own grave. I’m not interested in revenge. I’m offering you a chance to become part of my family. We treat each other well.”
“I appreciate it,” I lie. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
I turn toward the exit but stop at Angelo’s next words. “The terms are simple, Dante. Work for me, all expenses paid and don’t ask questions. And in return I’ll treat you like one of my own children.”
If he really has children, they would be a weakness I may be able to exploit.
“I teach at Thronewood University, as you well know,” I reply. “I have students relying on me.”
Like I give two shits about them. I’m just buying as much time as I can.
“Of course. I can be flexible, let you finish the semester. However, there might be the occasional weekend job I need you to take care of.”
“I understand.”
“This offer expires in four days, Moretti. That’s ninety-six hours—more than enough time to consider your options. If you don’t accept, well,” he chuckles to himself, “I’ll be expecting my payment then…in full.”
Fuck.