Chapter 25 Marco
MARCO
I nod at whatever Santino is saying about quarterly projections for the casino, but the words wash over me like white noise.
All I can think about is Gabriella walking out my door three days ago, suitcase in hand, carrying my child inside her.
My child.
"Don Calabresi?" Santino's voice breaks through. "Your thoughts on expanding the high-roller area?"
"Proceed with the plans." I wave my hand dismissively. "Send me the numbers later."
The managers exchange glances.
I'm not myself, haven't been since she left. Sleep eludes me. Food is tasteless.
Even my scotch, the expensive kind that usually soothes everything, sits untouched.
What kind of man lets the mother of his child walk away? A coward. That's what kind.
She didn't trap me.
She gave me an out.
She’s going to Italy, to have a life where I won’t have to change a single thing about my miserable existence.
And I took it. I fucking took it.
Nearly twenty-five years running one of the most powerful criminal organizations in the country.
I've faced down rival families, corrupt officials, and federal agents.
I've killed men with my bare hands. But the thought of being responsible for a family paralyzes me with terror.
What terrifies me even more is the emptiness she left behind.
Roman was right. I'm an idiot.
The baby deserves better than me.
Gabriella deserves better.
But the thought of my child growing up without knowing me, of Gabriella raising our baby alone in Italy, it’s untenable.
My phone vibrates against the desk. I’ve already skipped a text message and a call in an effort to keep focus in this meeting.
I flip it over, ready to silence it, but Antonio's name appears on the screen.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.” I pick up the phone to answer. "Antonio."
"Marco." His voice sounds strained, confused. "Gabriella just called. Something about meeting you at the east warehouse? Did I miss a meeting?"
"I didn't call her. We haven't spoken in days." But every instinct in my body goes on high alert.
"She sounded… strange. She said she and Frank know what you’re doing."
My first thought is that she’s back to accusing me of something, but that kernel of worry has me rising from my chair.
She’s pissed at me, but she’s not petty.
Frank.
East warehouse.
Oh, fuck. It dawns on me. The fake meeting.
“I’m on my way.” I cut the line and head out the door with no explanation to my men. I scroll through my missed notifications.
Frank is the mole. Taking me to east warehouse. Doesn’t realize I made up the story.
Cold fury washes over me.
I dial Roman’s number as I rush out of the casino to my car. “Who is on the warehouse? The fake meeting?”
Roman is quiet for a moment. “Ah… Lorenzo. He’s supposed to call if he sees—”
“Any chance he’s dead?”
“What’s going on, Marco?”
I’m in my car, driving like a bat out of hell to get to Antonio’s warehouse that might as well be in Timbuktu for how far I have to drive to get there.
“Apparently, Frank is there with Gabriella. I missed a text from her saying he’s the mole.” If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.
I’ll kneel in front of Antonio and beg him to put a bullet in my head.
“Oh, fuck. On my way. I’ll call Lorenzo—”
I end the call, unable to keep my mind from thinking about the worst-case scenario.
Gabriella and my child are going to die because I’m such a fucking failure as a human being.
Fucking Frank. Why didn’t I see it?
"Faster," I growl as I weave through traffic.
Gabriella. The baby. My family. The word that terrified me is now suddenly vital.
It takes fucking forever, but finally, the warehouse looms ahead. I pull into an alley two blocks away, killing the engine.
I’m checking my gun when Roman parks next to me. “Can’t reach Lorenzo.”
“Odds are he’s dead.” If Frank is the mole, he’s likely the one who tried to ambush me and my men and killed Lorenzo. I can’t wait to kill him. Of course, if he’s hurt Gabriella, his death won’t be fast or clean. He’ll be screaming in agony begging for death.
"I should have seen it."
"We all missed it," Roman says. "Question is, what's his endgame?"
I close my eyes briefly, seeing Gabriella's face. The hurt in her eyes when I accused her of trapping me. The quiet dignity as she walked away.
"Doesn't matter. I'm getting her out."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we spring it." I start toward the warehouse.
"Boss." Roman's voice drops lower. "If it is a trap and something happens to you—"
"Then you're in charge," I interrupt. “You get Gabriella safe. Make sure she has everything she needs.”
“Needs?”
“Focus, Roman.” I scan the warehouse perimeter, working to steady my breathing and heart rate. Gabriella and the baby need me to focus too.
“I’ll go around,” Roman says, trotting away.
"Found Lorenzo. Tapped twice,” Roman's voice crackles in my earpiece moments later.
Fuck.
“East entrance clear," Roman reports a few moments later.
I study the parking lot. One car, likely Frank’s.
"Looks like he came alone," I murmur.
"Overconfident bastard," Roman’s voice replies. "Or he's got backup we can't see."
"If he’s the mole, he's betraying Antonio. He won't have men helping him with that." I roll my shoulders to calm the agitation.
Every instinct screams at me to storm in, to put a bullet between Frank's eyes for daring to touch what's mine.
But I've survived this long by controlling those impulses.
"Any sign of Blackwood or Feds?" I ask.
"Negative. Everything is clear."
I process this information. Frank came alone. No backup. No Feds. Either he's monumentally stupid or this is about something more personal than I realized.
"What's the play, Boss?" Roman asks.
I check my watch. We've been observing for seven minutes.
Frank is expecting me, based on what Antonio said.
That means he’s poised to kill me.
But Gabriella apparently said she and Frank knew what I was doing, which means she’s playing her part as Blackwood’s informant.
I need to use that.
“I’m walking in.”
“Marco, don’t be—"
“Just back me up.”
"Understood." But Roman’s tone tells me he hates my idea. Too damn bad. I’m tired of all the bullshit.
Moving silently across the gravel, I approach the building.
Through a broken window, I catch a glimpse inside.
She’s standing in the middle of the room, her eyes on a gun trained on her.
Relief floods through me that she’s alive, but it’s quickly replaced by cold fury at the sight of Frank's weapon pointed in her direction.
I force myself to breathe, to think.
"In position," Roman confirms.
"Going in.”
I slip into the warehouse through a side entrance, my footsteps deliberately heavy.
Frank whips around at the sound, his gun wavering between me and Gabriella.
Her eyes widen in fear and relief.
"Took you long enough," Frank calls out, a nervous edge to his voice. He’s afraid of me. Good.
"Your girlfriend here was starting to think you wouldn't show,” Frank finishes.
I want to rush him and beat the ever living shit out of him.
Instead, I force a cold smile. "She's not my girlfriend, Frank. She just thought she could play with the big boys. Looks like she’s about to get you burned."
Gabriella flinches slightly. God, I hope she understands what I'm doing.
“Don’t fuck with me, Calabresi. I know you’re trying to ruin Antonio and seduced his whore daughter to help you.”
I hear Roman gasp through my earpiece.
He’s probably expecting me to drop Frank right then and there, but his gun is in her direction.
She’s too close to him.
I can’t risk her getting caught in a firefight.
I give him a cocky smile. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting a nice piece of ass, but Gabriella is a Daddy’s girl all the way. Loyal to her father.”
I hate how Gabriella looks at me with confusion and then disgust.
But I can’t give anything away. “But you, Frank? You’re a fucking traitor. I don’t know how you think sabotaging Antonio’s business is somehow helping him. Tell me the truth, are you hoping to take over?”
“You’re delusional.”
“What's Blackwood offering you? Money? Protection? Your own territory when we're gone?"
Frank's eyes narrow, his grip on the gun tightening.
"Don’t try to gaslight me. I know you’re planning to take Antonio's territory while pretending to help him."
"Is that what you told her?"
I nod toward Gabriella, careful not to look directly at her. "That I was the villain in this story? And she believed you. Did you have a taste of her too?”
She gasps, and yes, I hate myself for the vulgarity, but the end justifies the means, right?
As long as she gets out safely, I don’t care if she never speaks to me again.
“Fucking pervert. I’m like a father to her.”
I frown. “You just called her a whore. Which is it, Frank?” I wave a hand at him. “Look, I don’t give a shit about any of you. I just want to know your end game. What’s your plan? Kill us both? Frame me for her murder?"
I inch closer, calculating angles, distances. "Because if you think Antonio will let you live after hurting his daughter, you're even dumber than I thought."
“Antonio will never know. And if he does, he’ll forget.”
“What’s your take in all this?” I nod toward Gabriella to encourage her to move a little to the left. “Why talk to the Feds if you’re helping Antonio?”
“With you gone, I can help Antonio take your business. After all, you’re impotent and have no heirs.”
“My dick works fine, just ask Gabriella.”
Gabriella’s eyes look at me in horror, like she’s afraid I’ll reveal her secret.
“But you forget, I have Roman. He’s a bigger, badder ass than you. He’ll be the Don, and there won’t be a hole or crevice you can hide in where he won’t find you.”
I edge another step closer, positioning myself between him and Gabriella as much as possible without being obvious.
Every nerve in my body is attuned to his trigger finger, the slight tremor in his hands, the sweat beading on his forehead.
"Antonio treated you like family," I say. "For decades. And this is how you repay him?"