Francesca
I’d never been to the headquarters where Cosa Nostra operated.
It was a gated compound in the heart of Palermo, the limestone carved with lions, palm trees on the outskirts of the property.
It was a sprawling piece of real estate in a historic city.
The villa itself was three stories high, but expansive like the size of a commercial building.
Wolfe drove his Range Rover onto the property when the gate opened and parked off to the side of the fountain.
It wasn’t noticeable outside the gates because of the stone wall and the foliage, but there was security everywhere.
All armed with automatic rifles and tactical vests, it was the violent truth behind the curtain.
A few other cars were already there but not many.
Wolfe parked then came around the side to help me out of the car. He immediately grabbed my hand and walked me to the entrance.
None of the armed men looked at us, and when we ascended the marble stairs to the enormous double doors, the two security officers nodded toward Wolfe but didn’t actually speak to him.
One of them opened the door for Wolfe, and he stepped inside, the sound of loud music and boisterous voices reaching us. He dropped my hand and circled his arm around my lower back as he pulled me in. “You look really fine in that dress.”
“Thanks.” I hadn’t eaten in two weeks, and the dress fit a little loose—but not in a good way. My breasts didn’t fill in the cups right, so the cleavage line wasn’t the most impressive. “But you’re the one who looks really fine.”
He smirked. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“You gave me a compliment, and I accepted it.”
“You didn’t accept it. You gloated about it.”
“Baby, I know what I’m worth. Wish you knew the same about yourself.
” He guided me through a spacious sitting area so spotless it seemed as if no one ever used it.
We crossed the villa until we reached the other side, emerging outside on the grounds.
The stone walls here were just as high, but there was no visible gate or entryway.
The area had a fountain and sprawling gardens, with beautiful landscape lighting that gave it a resort-like feeling.
The large terrace contained tables covered in white linen tablecloths, easily accommodating three hundred people like a wedding venue.
It was a warm summer evening, but heat lamps were everywhere in case anyone was cold.
“Wow, this place is beautiful.”
“Yeah, it’s not bad,” he said. “Throughout the decades, the government tried to remove Cosa Nostra from power, but after so many deaths and so much spending, we made a truce. So they allowed us to purchase this historic building. It’s the largest in Palermo, and it’s also where Don Russo lives.”
“So the definition of if you can’t beat them, join them.”
“Just more economical.” He guided me to the terrace and to an empty table.
He pulled out the chair for me then sat across from me, the guys drinking in merriment, a lot of them already visibly drunk.
Pretty women moved around the tables to pour wine and deliver cocktails, and they were all dressed in lacy black lingerie.
One of the women came to our table. “Wine?”
“Please.” Wolfe grabbed our two glasses and put them at the edge, and while he was polite, he never actually looked at the woman.
She poured the glasses then walked off.
Wolfe immediately swirled it by the stem and took a drink.
“It’s okay to look at them, Wolfe,” I said. “I’m not going to scratch your eyes out.”
He smirked slightly then took another drink of his wine.
“I’m jealous when women stare at you, but it’s okay to make eye contact with a pretty woman.”
He relaxed in the chair. “Alright.”
“Alright? Why are you being weird right now?”
“I’m not being weird. You’re being weird.”
“No, there’s definitely something I’m missing.” I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about his behavior just seemed odd.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes. That’s why I asked.”
“Alright,” he said with a slight shrug. “She and I used to hook up.”
“Oh.” It was a shock at first, but then I realized it wasn’t surprising at all.
“And I didn’t want to look directly at her in case she recognized me.”
“In case she recognized you?” I burst out in laughter. “Oh babe, you’re unforgettable.”
That arrogant smirk stretched across his face.
“Well, you can make eye contact with women in front of me. I’m not that controlling and insecure.”
“Hmm.” He swirled his wineglass again.
“Hmm, what?”
“We don’t see eye to eye on that.”
“What do you mean?”
“If some guy you used to hook up with were here, I’d probably kill him.” He said it matter-of-factly before he grabbed his glass and took another drink, casual and calm like he absolutely meant what he said. “And that has nothing to do with being controlling and insecure.”
“Then why?”
“Because I don’t fucking like it.” His playfulness evaporated, and his eyes hardened. “And I don’t have to explain myself or justify my actions.”
Wolfe was never this aggressive around me unless someone crossed me, but he’d immediately exploded into the monster capable of the most violent depravity known to man. I’d never seen him say something he didn’t mean, so it seemed like he was serious.
Thankfully, the rage didn’t last long because one of the guys walked over. “Long time no see, Wolfe.” He extended his hand to Wolfe.
Wolfe took it, anger still on his face but slowly evaporating. “You’re going to be seeing me a lot more. Santino, this is my woman, Francesca.”
Santino turned to me and gave a nod but didn’t reach out to touch me. “I’m sorry about your father. Cosa Nostra didn’t like him, but we respected him as a businessman.”
The mention of my father immediately hit me with a burst of sadness. “Thank you.”
Santino turned back to Wolfe. “The boss wants you at his table.”
“Alright.” Wolfe stood up then helped me out of the chair before he escorted me across the terrace to a table in the center with eight chairs.
Don Russo was the focal point of the entire terrace, having the aura of a boss who ruled with respect rather than authority.
He wore a blue blazer over a button-up shirt, and a cigar rested in his relaxed fingertips.
He wore a wedding ring on his left hand, but one of the girls working the tables leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before she brought him another glass of wine. And she probably wasn’t his wife.
Don Russo severed his conversation with the guy next to him the second Wolfe approached. “My favorite lieutenant.”
“Your top lieutenant,” Wolfe said with a smirk. He pulled out the chair for me then took the seat beside me, his arm immediately draping over the back of my chair while his fingers grazed my shoulder.
One of the girls came over and poured two new glasses of wine for us.
The table was filled with baskets of bread and appetizers of fried calamari and caprese salad.
She set the bottle on the table then turned on the heat lamp as if she thought I might be cold, when she was dressed in less than I was.
“Francesca,” Don Russo said, attracting not only my attention, but everyone else’s too. “How are you liking Palermo?”
“Oh, I love it here. A beautiful place.”
“I hope Wolfe has been a good tour guide.”
“He has,” I said. “And everything I’ve eaten has been amazing. But I kinda eat everything anyway.”
He nodded. “I want to take a moment to share my condolences on behalf of Cosa Nostra for the loss of your father, Vincenzo Mancini. I met with him a few times. He was always a firecracker.”
It still hadn’t quite hit me that I would never see him again. That people spoke of him in the past tense when he still felt a part of my present. “That’s putting it nicely.”
He smirked, his eyes lighting up through his glasses.
“If he’s a firecracker,” Wolfe said, “then his daughter is an atomic bomb.”
Don Russo shifted his gaze to Wolfe. “And I can definitely see why that would be appealing to you.”
Wolfe shrugged, a grin still on his face. “I’ve got a type—Francesca Mancini. When Warren hit her house, I was there with her, and I had the pleasure of watching her blow those assholes to hell, reload her shotgun, and do it all over again.”
Don Russo shifted his gaze back to me, and he definitely looked at me a little differently. He didn’t actually say anything, though…just stared.
“Maybe in a different life she could have been Cosa Nostra,” Wolfe said with a light chuckle. “Would love to see that.”
“Warren will regret the day he crossed Don Mancini. We weren’t allies in life, but we’re certainly allies in his death.
Wolfe will always be Cosa Nostra and, by extension, so are you.
We’ll make sure your father is avenged and your vineyard returns to its rightful owner. We stand with you, Francesca Mancini.”
Wolfe mingled throughout the evening, and I could definitely detect a distance between him and the rest of Cosa Nostra.
They didn’t have the same candor we had at the vineyard.
It reminded me of the way they treated Don Russo, like he was the boss.
Wolfe was with me most of the time, but he would get pulled to other tables to smoke a cigar.
I was fine on my own, warm under the heat lamp with wine in my belly.
I watched Wolfe across the terrace and saw him laugh at something one of the guys said.
The girls continued to gather dirty plates from dinner, and whenever one of them would walk by, one of the guys would give her a smack on the ass.
The woman smiled like she liked it, but she was probably getting paid enough to like it.
The girl who had poured our wine at the beginning of the evening stopped at Wolfe’s table and made small talk, but then her eyes turned to Wolfe as if it was his attention that she wanted.