Connor
I could’ve sat with a half-naked Cat on top of me all night, but we both knew that wouldn’t solve anything.
Not the Nino problem or the bigger issue of the Riccis losing their true leader.
Plus, her father’s funeral is coming up.
I have no clue how to approach her about Nino murdering Eduardo, but my gut insists he’s our guy.
Still, I can’t just throw that revelation at her feet. Hearing your brother killed your father without unequivocal evidence is no easy pill to swallow. Because I can’t lose her, I’ll have to prove this to her.
I’m outside Café Castellane, an Italian restaurant that serves as a cover for a bunch of Ricci meetings. Nino’s home away from home.
I saw him pull up in his ruby Macan, followed by eight capos and enforcers.
Back when I was Dane Ryder, I got to know his schedule pretty well. I had always planned on approaching Caterina, but I did my homework on Emiliano Ricci too. Just in case.
After the boys’ club, which consistently lets out before six, Nino stays for a meal, usually dining alone. I watched him between the holidays a few weeks back. He’s so self-absorbed, he didn’t even notice that I was the only other man dining solo.
Nino’s been running the Ricci family since Eduardo went on bedrest months ago, and he requires a little solitude to fuel the tank. I understand, especially since the food is divine. I could really get used to Italian cuisine.
As the last capo and two enforcers leave, I spy Cat and Danny down the block.
My entire body jolts, white-hot jealousy flooding my system. I clench my hands in my pockets and breathe deeply.
Danny Costa’s not a threat. I should be relieved he’s with Cat. The guy’s part labrador. He’s loyal but not interested in her, and he’ll keep her safe.
So why does seeing them together irritate me so much?
Why are they even here?
Oh. Shit. Cat’s spying on Nino, too, because he didn’t invite her to the meeting.
What the hell’s Nino discussing in there? Belinski’s not even in attendance. The Russian’s never been invited to Café Castellane, so that tracks. But why no Cat?
That can’t be good.
I bolt inside.
To say this place has a red theme is like saying the turf in Yankee Stadium is green.
Red walls, red carpeting, red leather booths… The mirror behind the gondola-shaped bar reflects all the red back into the room.
As I approach the gondola to order a Chianti, Nino spots me from his table for two. His tats practically leap off his neck when he strides my way. Even they’re angry at the sight of me.
But we’re in a public place, around normal, regular, law-abiding patrons, so…
“Gallagher. You got some brass ones.” He gets in my ear, his voice a low hiss. “What’s to stop me from taking you down right here?”
I recline against the bar in a casual pose. “That family of six?” I nod at a couple with four young kids before smirking. “And as the new head of the Ricci family, is that really how you want to inaugurate yourself?”
“Join me for dinner. It’s not a request.”
Fine by me. I’d love a good conversation with this prickhead.
The meal is extremely tense. It’s also sensational, culinary-wise. I order the stuffed shells with homemade meatballs the size of my fists, and we’re sharing a bottle of Tignanello Toscana that’s out of this world.
I pour myself another glass and top his off.
“You like it?” Nino gestures to the wine.
“It’s incredible.”
“It’s a blend. Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Cab Franc. Aged a long-ass time in barrels. One of my late father’s favorites.”
This is the first time I spy the human behind the gorilla. I can almost imagine him at dinner with Cat and their father as Eduardo taught them the broad strokes about vintages and vineyards and how to select a killer bottle.
I raise my glass. “To Eduardo. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know him better.”
Nino reluctantly lifts his own glass, and we toast.
Thus concludes our civil conversation.
I’m able to maintain a cool-headed persona better than Cat’s brother for a plethora of reasons, but this one tops them all…
I did not kill Eduardo Ricci. Nino knows I didn’t kill his father because he did.
But following Eduardo death, Nino confidence has surged.
I’m also on his turf, which puts me in quite a vulnerable position.
I’m not worried, though. I can take this bastard with my hands tied.
I just can’t kill him. Cat can’t handle losing her brother and father in the same week.
After the waiter clears our meals, Nino relaxes in his seat and studies me.
His eyes make my skin crawl. They’re so different from his sister’s, cold and conniving rather than introspective and intelligent. I’m second-guessing whether he might murder me right here. A blade to my femoral artery would do the trick well enough.
I dab my mouth with my napkin. Better get this over with. “Nino, listen. I still think our families can find common ground. I think you know that I’m not responsible for your father.”
“Why would I know that?” His voice sharpens, and he narrows his eyes.
Because you are.
Rather than say that, I quirk a brow. “Because you don’t reach the top of the organization without the ability to read people.”
Nino relaxes again, his fingers tracing the design on the tablecloth.
“I’ve got a proposition for you, Gallagher.”
This can’t be good. I recline in my seat and motion for him to continue.
“You can have the diamond at a bargain-basement price if you get the hell out of town and never return.”
So Nino has the diamond. Big surprise. Presumably, he also wants me gone so he can build his alliance with the Roguilins and topple the Kings.
Declan would be ecstatic if I walked into his Spanish villa with that diamond on my pinky finger. He might even manage to crack a smile.
The thought of pleasing Declan brings me no joy.
I can play the game, though. Maybe if I go along with this, Nino will eventually slip up.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He grins, the ink on his face warping. “Perfect. I’ll be in touch.”
We shake, which may be the most difficult part of the meal.
I rise, thank him for the food, nod to our server, and pretend to go to the bathroom but actually head into the alley through the back door of the restaurant.
Nino’s going to sell me the diamond for cheap? Sure, and I’m planning to launch my presidential campaign as soon as I return to the safe house.
Under my breath, I count. “Three, two, one…”
Nino’s heavy boots thump on the concrete behind me. He’ll attack from his right—during our meal, I noted his dominant hand—with a knife. A gun’s too loud.
I spin, blocking the six-inch blade stabbing toward me by snagging his wrist and deflecting until his own knife swipes him through his brow.
He cries out as blood streams into his eye.
He’s fast, though.
Before I can go for a hit, he drops the weapon and reaches for my neck with both hands.
Only out-of-control crazy people try to strangle a person right out of the gate.
These Italians need to learn how to fight with their legs.
Once I sweep his, he’s down.
Nino flips like a fish while scrambling for his knife.
I kick him onto his back and punch in in the jaw—once, twice—and he swipes again, clipping my chin.
The sharp sting knocks my teeth together with a clack.
That hurt.
I keep punching, ignoring Nino’s wild swings until he’s lying limp and whimpering beneath me.
Panting, I kneel over him, pissed that I had to do this at all.
My knuckles hurt. My jaw aches.
But this had to be done.
Fucking prick.
As I stand, the glint of his blade on the ground captures my attention. I snatch it up.
“I think you were looking for this.” I toss the weapon onto his stomach and leave.
Declan would not be impressed with my show of compassion, but I plan to sleep like a baby tonight knowing I went a round with Nino and let him live.
For Cat.