Chapter Four
The past seventy-two hours have been a revolving door of heads from the different local families visiting with offers of condolences, prayers, and paying their respects. While I understand and respect that part of this life, fuck, I just want to forget about the old man. A loud groan barrels its way from my throat when another knock sounds on the door to what is now my study.
“What?” I ground out as I sift through records from the time I was gone.
A soft creek echoes through the room as Mrs. De Luca steps in with a glass of water and a plate of grilled chicken over a bed of lettuce. I can’t help but grin when I see her. She’s not spoken to me much since everything came back to me, so it surprises me when she doesn’t move to leave right away.
“My sweet boy.” She says softly, “Thank you. My Anthony felt so guilty after, he didn’t know what Frederico had planned until it was too late. He confided in me when he came home after it was done. Anthony planned to resign, but he never returned the day he intended to ask to be relieved of duty.”
Her shoulders sag as she shares her story. I stand from behind my desk and close the distance between the two of us. My arms fold around her in a tight embrace as she quietly sobs into my sternum. Her signature cinnamon and vanilla scent invades my lungs before she pulls away, pats my chest, and walks out without another word shared between us.
A few moments after I’ve finished my lunch from Mrs. D, a quick succession of knocks in the beat of Another One Bites The Dust sounds against the large barrier. I can’t help but chuckle.
“Come in, Milo.” My shoulders shake with laughter at his antics. He may be in a higher position of power now as my right hand alongside Michael, but he’s still the same kid I met all those years ago. Some things will never change.
Milo pushes open the door with a cheesy smile on his face as if he owns the place. Once he steps through the door, he clears his throat.
“Mateo Barone is here to see you.” He steps to the drink cart and pours himself a glass of bourbon. “He says it’s to express his sympathy for the family, but something feels off.” Milo’s statement piques my interest.
I drag my hand through my short beard and glance at my friend. I give a quick nod toward the door, Milo turns back to fetch my guest. While I’m waiting for them to return, my attention is drawn to a stack of papers on my desk. Something sticks out like a sore fucking thumb. I hear Milo and Mr. Barone enter before I have a chance to dig in any further. My eyes raise to find an older man with a very large frame, his hair is cropped short at the sides, a little longer on top. However, his temples have gone completely grey.
“Mr. Barone,” I ask as I gesture for him to take a seat at the chair in front of my desk, which he does while Milo stands at the doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “How may I help you?”
The older man sits with an expression I can’t quite pinpoint. He has more of a street look to him than most of the men who we associate with. Instead of the suit and tie I’ve become accustomed to seeing over the years, he’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. Don’t get me wrong, casual clothes are great, but not in this environment. I cock a brow at him when he doesn’t speak, which must get the point across that I won’t break first.
“Giovanni,” he begins.
I hold my hand in the air to stop him.
“It’s Mr. Ludovico to you, we aren’t friends, sir.” I reply coldly.
Mr. Barone’s lip curls as if he’s holding back an insult or two. Good, I’m under his skin.
“Mr. Ludovico,” He begins again, “I wanted to pay my respects to you and offer my sincerest condolences to you and your family.”
I nod in response. Milo is right, there is something off about this one. He’s here for more than what he claims. When I don’t verbally acknowledge his statement, he continues.
“A few years ago, your grandfather and I went into business together.” The man’s gaze darts between Milo and myself as he speaks, “I want to assure you that I will continue to do my part, with your approval to do so, of course.” He explains. I cross my arms over my chest and cock a brow at him. “My part with distribution, I mean.”
My face heats as a molten rage rushes through my veins as I quickly stand and loom over the man before me. He’s at least smart enough to look a little taken aback at my reaction.
“I need you to spell it out for me because the first thing that comes to mind can’t be what you’re fucking talking about.” He staggers backward at my response.
“We - he - I mean, I - we had an - an agreement. It’s primarily cocaine and heroin, nothing stronger than those two.” Mr. Barone stumbles over his words.
My glare has him cowering into himself as I speak.
“In all the years we’ve had control, it has been made clear by my great grandfather that we do not dabble in drugs.” I snarl as I stand at my full height, my spine straight as an arrow. My chest puffs out to make my appearance more intimidating. “You’re telling me that you and Frederico had a deal to get drugs on my streets?”
Milo begins to advance toward me to grab ahold of the man who has been placed at the top of my shit list. I shake my head so quickly, only my friend sees the movement. Milo stays in place allowing it to play out the way it’s meant to.
“He approached me about the partnership after he found out.” Mr. Barone explains, his voice cracks before he goes silent when he realizes what he gave me.
The hair on my neck stands on end as his words sink in. What the fuck is this man into?
“Found out what exactly?” I snarl; Milo has moved forward with his palms pressing down on Mr. Barone’s shoulders, holding him in place. I see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he tries to determine if he can lie to me. He must decide it’s not worth it after a few moments of silence, but what he says is not at all what I expect.
“About my daughter.” His response is quiet. “No one else knows outside of the woman who raised and tutored her.”
I take a step back to take in the whole picture keeping an indifferent mask in place.
“What does your daughter have to do with anything?” I ask as I drag my fingers through my short beard.
Mr. Barone huffs out an annoyed sigh.
“It was supposed to be a boy. I never wanted a girl. I told everyone the baby and her mother died during labor twenty-five years ago.” The way he says the words as if it should be self-explanatory shocks me. “We killed her mother since she was worthless, and couldn’t produce an heir. My father wouldn’t let me get rid of her in case she could become useful down the line.”
I glance at Milo whose eyes are now as wide as mine. What. The. Fuck?
The horrors that flash through my mind for a person to be isolated for so long make my stomach flip. Where has this girl been all this time? How old is she? I don’t recall ever hearing about a wife and pregnancy before. The blood boils in my veins as I level him with a glare. Mr. Barone flinches as soon as he sees my expression. Good.
“If you want me to consider the remote possibility of you continuing on the venture you started with Frederico, I want your daughter. My men will be escorting you home and retrieving her,” I say without hesitation.