Chapter 20 Dante
DANTE
Kemal slams his fist on the conference table and shakes the whole hotel room.
His face is red with anger and his interpreter Eren speaks rapidly in Italian to translate the stream of Turkish insults pouring from his mouth.
"You call yourself a partner," Eren translates. "You call yourself trustworthy. But you are a thief and a liar. You stole from us and now you sit here pretending to be innocent."
I keep my hands flat on the table and my expression calm.
Losing my temper won’t help.
I need Kemal to listen to me and see the evidence before he walks out of this hotel and destroys everything I have left.
The entire purpose of calling this meeting was to prove my innocence.
Without the Turks my trades are dead in the water.
I can't lose them.
"I didn’t steal from you," I say as I sit a little taller in the chair and lean forward. "I was set up. Gerard fabricated the evidence to turn you against me."
Kemal barks something in Turkish.
Eren translates. "Proof—show me proof or this meeting is over."
The deep crevices on his forehead show how angry he is, and after months of being patient with me, it appears Antonelli Gerard's lies are more credible in his mind than my word, which pisses me off.
I reach into my jacket and pull out the phone I recovered from the attacker at the Pantheon, then unlock it and set it on the table between us.
"This belonged to one of Mr. Gerard's men. Inside are voice messages that prove he orchestrated the scheme to frame me. The messages are between his lieutenant and one of your contacts in Istanbul."
Kemal picks up the phone and examines it with suspicion.
Then he looks at Eren and says something in Turkish.
Eren nods and takes the phone.
He navigates to the voice messages and plays the first one.
The lieutenant's voice fills the room, revealing the secrets I've already heard and memorized, while Eren translates for Kemal as the recording plays.
When the first message ends, Kemal's expression shifts slightly.
The anger is still there but now there's a bit of a shift toward doubt and caution.
He gestures for Eren to play the next message but his brow is still deeply furrowed.
My chest feels squeezed so tight, I can't breathe.
This proof should exonerate me, but with one week left to the deadline, it means very little if I can't get the shipments around.
The second recording confirms the plan to feed false data to the Turks.
That one draws a glare on his part and he sits straighter now.
He's really listening, tuning his ear to hear the lies Gerard and his men have been spreading—lies he has been believing for months. And now the wool is coming off his eyes and he's fucking pissed.
Kemal listens to all three messages without interrupting.
When they finish, he sets the phone down and glares at it for a long moment.
When he starts speaking again, I turn to his interpreter and listen intently.
"This proves Antonelli deceived us, but it does not clear you completely. The shipment is still missing." His overly proper Italian makes me want to chuckle, but I get the gist of what he's saying. "Whether you took it or he took it, the product is gone. We expect compensation."
"I'm working on securing a replacement shipment," I say.
"I have the channels and the resources to deliver what you need.
But I need time." I wait patiently while the words move through Eren to my supplier and listen to his thick Turkish accent as he gives his directive straight to me, no translator necessary.
Kemal's eyes narrow. "You have three days."
"Three days?" I almost gasp, but I manage to hold it back.
I'm supposed to have seven, and now he's shortening that time.
What the hell am I supposed to do in three days’ time?
Kemal speaks in rapid Turkish and Eren translates.
"I want a clean shipment in under seventy-two hours, and you will prove to me that you are worthy of being an ally in this business. You are either foolish or manipulative if you think one phone message can erase that lost shipment."
Damn, his interpreter is so good at conveying all of those words to me without the hostility I see on Kemal's face.
I know I heard a few expletives the man didn't share.
"Be realistic, Kemal. Three days is a very short time to produce what you're asking for."
Eren's Turkish is more rushed, but he understands me.
Kemal leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
He speaks again and Eren translates.
"Three days. If you succeed in moving a replacement shipment and proving you have control of your operations, we will consider restoring the partnership. If you fail, make sure your allies understand that you've been skimming from them…"
"I understand," I grunt, and my whole body tenses.
I don’t have a choice.
This man still holds the guillotine rope over my head.
Whether or not Antonelli fucked me over, I did myself no favors by letting the skimming be found.
I have no one to blame but myself.
Kemal stands and buttons his jacket.
He speaks one more time and Eren translates.
"You have built a reputation over the years as a man who keeps his word. Do not disappoint me now. If you fail, I will make certain that no one in the Mediterranean does business with you again. You will be finished."
He walks out of the room without waiting for a response.
Eren follows behind him and closes the door.
I sit alone at the table and stare at the phone.
Seventy-two hours to secure product, move it across Rome, and deliver it to the Turks without Gerard intercepting it.
It's a damn near impossible task, and I will have to pull off a miracle.
I leave the hotel and drive back to the villa.
The December afternoon is cold and gray, much like every afternoon in winter here.
The traffic crawls through the city as Christmas shoppers fill the streets.
I pass decorated storefronts and street vendors.
The whole city celebrates while my world balances on a knife edge.
When I reach the villa, I go straight to my den where my men are already waiting for me as I instructed.
They know just how important that meeting was for me, and none of them have a clue what's coming.
I'm not a happy man.
My temper is already flaring before I even sit to speak to them.
"I met with Kemal this afternoon," I say. "He's given us three days to prove we can deliver a replacement shipment. If we succeed, the alliance continues. If we fail, he releases everything and our organization is finished."
Rico leans forward. "Three days isn't enough time, Boss. We'd need to secure the product, arrange transport, and move it through new secret channels. That's impossible with our current resources." Obviously—but I hold my tongue.
I don't want to hear what we can't do.
I need to hear what ideas they have on what we can do.
"Then we find new resources… New routes."
Leaning back, I drum my fingers on the desk, waiting for one of them to come up with a new plan.
Enzo shakes his head.
"What new routes? We've been using the same routes for years. The ports are compromised. The highways are watched. Antonelli has contacts everywhere. The moment we try to move anything, he'll know. He's ruined every deal and interrupted every shipment for months."
"Then we move it somewhere he is not watching."
Luca speaks up. "Where? We’ve exhausted every option. There's no hidden route that suddenly appeared overnight."
I slam my hand on the desk.
"Then figure something out, dammit." Standing, I glare at them all, knowing this isn’t their fault but unable to control my fury. "Find a contact. Bribe someone. Threaten someone. I don't fucking care what it takes. We have three days and failure’s not an option."
Rico stands. His expression is hard. "We're doing everything we can. But you're asking for something that doesn't exist. Three days to secure a shipment, transport it across the city, and deliver it without detection? You're asking for a miracle."
"I am asking you to do your jobs," I say coldly. "Now, get out," I say in another fit of anger. "All of you. Get the fuck out of my house and don't come back until you have a solution."
They exchange glances.
Rico opens his mouth like he wants to argue but then thinks better of it.
They stand and walk toward the door.
Luca pauses before leaving, looking at me like he wants to protest but knows better, and then he leaves, closing the door behind him.
I stand alone in my den and feel the rage boiling beneath my skin.
Three days isn't enough time.
My men are right.
I'm asking for something that can't even happen, and still I have to make it happen.
My entire reputation and livelihood depend on this.
I walk to the door and yank it open.
I need to move.
I need to think.
I need to find a way forward before the deadline expires and everything collapses.
But as I step into the hallway, I slam directly into Angelica.
The impact sends her stumbling backward.
I reach out to steady her but she jerks away from my touch.
Her expression is guarded.
"Were you listening?" I ask.
"Yes."
"Of course you were. You can't help yourself. You have to stick your nose into things that don't concern you."
Her eyes flash with anger. "Don't concern me? Your war affects me and my daughter every single day. Everything you do puts us at risk. So yeah, I listen."
Her eyes shift back and forth between mine as she cowers against the wall and I realize I'm frightening her.
What good is doing everything Kemal wants if I push away the very woman I'm doing it for?
If not for her and Sofia, I'd cash everything out and start over somewhere else.
I have the manpower and resources to do it, maybe Palermo, or Naples…
But I need to be a better man, and I need to do this for my family.
I run a hand through my hair.
The frustration is overwhelming. "Look, I'm sorry. I'll figure it out. I always do."
"You need help. I heard you talk to your men…" Her eyes grow wide.
I see the pulse throbbing at her temple.
I narrow my eyes on her and purse my lips.
This had better be good, or she's going to see a side of me she never wants to see again.