38. The Wrong Man #2
Ferri closed the file. “You seem awfully calm for a man who is facing life in prison, Buccini.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Another long silence as they both studied every micro-reaction on my face. I held their gazes, showing them I had nothing to hide. Not when it came to this, anyway.
Ferri stood up, and Morelli slowly followed suit. “We will continue this later.”
“Can’t wait,” I mumbled, tapping my fingers in a rhythm against the table. “Hurry back, detectives.” The door closed, and I turned to glance at Salvo. His lips curved into an amused grin as he shook his head.
“My zio always said you were just like your padre. Now I see it. It’s uncanny.”
I grinned. That was the best compliment I could have ever received.
“Love these little fuckers,” Nero muttered, staring at the tiny glass nano-drive with awe. “So beautiful.”
Max rolled his eyes, yawning as he slumped back on the sofa beside me.
It was nearly seven a.m., and none of us had slept.
Raya paced up and down with an angry, silent intensity as she chipped away at her nail polish.
She’d tried to get Max to agree to let her go down to the station with me to see Sani, but he’d refused.
Sani needed to focus, apparently. And our presence there would only distract him.
But I hated it just as much as she did; the thought of him sitting in a cell alone for something he hadn’t done.
Max received a call from Gio while Nero started working, fiddling with the nano-drive in a high-tech device to retrieve whatever information it contained. I had no idea my father was so tech-savvy, but I suppose he would have access to the most advanced technology given his position.
“Cami, turn on the TV. The local news,” Max shouted, pointing at Sani’s massive TV on the wall in front of us. My eyes widened as Callum’s face filled the screen, already midway through a speech at a press podium outside the city hall.
My fingers clenched the fabric of Sani’s tux as my nostrils flared at his calm, seemingly grave expression.
“Last night’s event was meant to celebrate the progress of this city,” he said, peering into the camera. “Instead, we witnessed an act of cowardice.”
“This asshole,” Max growled, rising from the sofa.
“The mayor is a man I know personally, more than just a colleague, a great friend of mine. He has dedicated his life to his dream of making Rome the greatest it can be, and to see him targeted in this way is not merely an attack on an individual but on the entire city,” Callum continued.
My jaw clenched as my body heated with relentless hellfire.
A reporter shouted something about Santino being arrested.
Callum glanced his way, keeping his expression composed and said, “I have full confidence in our police force and investigators. And if the evidence leads where it appears to be heading… then justice must be served. No matter who is involved.”
Raya made a disgruntled, choked sound from behind me, but I couldn’t look away from the TV. Who the hell was this man? And why was he trying to ruin my life?
“No one is above the law,” Callum said carefully. “Not me. Not you. And certainly not any businessman who believes that power and money make him untouchable.”
I shook my head and clenched my fists. He was humiliating Santino in public without even mentioning his name.
“My thoughts are with the mayor’s daughter, Arianna, during this difficult time,” he said, softening his voice as he had done many times to me.
That manipulative bastard. How fucking dare he!
“In light of this tragic event, Rome deserves stability. And I will do everything in my power to support the mayor’s office while he recovers. ”
Max began shouting rapidly in Italian down the phone to Giovanni and left the room.
The footage on the TV switched to Santino in handcuffs, being dragged towards the police car, his head held high and his face blank.
The picture it painted was brutal. Callum in daylight, concern in his eyes, yet strength in his voice.
Santino under flashing blue lights, like the villain in a film.
“....questions remain about the rising tensions between the mayor’s office and the city’s prominent businessman…” The news anchor was speaking over the clip before Raya grabbed the TV remote and switched it off. We both stared at the black screen in a daze, unsure of what to do next.
Callum had crafted this perfectly. He’d positioned himself in a way that the mafia could never come after him now without risking serious suspicion. And he’d put himself in a position of power over the city. Could he even do that? I blinked. He just did. Fuck.
“The next twenty-four hours will be crucial,” Nero muttered quietly. “For everyone.”
I swung my head his way. “What do you mean?”
He looked up at me over his laptop screen.
“Well… It’s all come down to this, hasn’t it?
If Callum is really behind everything, he has nowhere left to hide.
Whatever his true motives are, he needs to act quickly.
He wanted Santino out of the picture. He wanted your father out of the way.
He aimed to gain control over the city. He’s achieved all three.
But why? What is he planning to do with it?
He must make his next move before we make ours. ”
Raya dropped onto the sofa, her hazel eyes glazed over, deep in thought.
“Okay, I’ve got the files. Do you want to see?” Nero asked, nodding towards his screen. I hurried over to his side to see a document of writing and then some financial invoices and things I didn’t understand.
“What am I looking at?”
“Nero!” Max shouted from Sani’s office, and he placed the laptop on my lap.
“I’ll be back in a moment. Just read through it yourself first.”
I scanned all the figures, numbers, and campaign endorsements with a frown. I didn’t understand any of it. Then I came across a Word document that my father had typed.
I’m not sure if this will be of any help to you, but I thought you’d have better resources to examine my office’s finances than I do. These dates go back two years before I was elected, to the first partnership deal I made with Callum D'Ardenzi.
Firstly, I am not convinced he is responsible for the men attacking me the other night, but I have become increasingly suspicious of him since the day of the wedding.
I have known Callum for a few years, and he has been nothing but a support, colleague, and advisor.
We shared the same views. We wanted to make the city safer, more profitable for small, family-run businesses, tackle the housing crisis, and deal with organised crime.
Our first investment together was his financial support in helping me build a campaign to run for mayor.
He had come to Rome to make a name for himself.
I didn’t question his wealth or kindness, believing we shared the same vision and passion for this city.
The first concern I ever had was regarding his involvement with Damiano.
Callum helped me select my security team—my bodyguards.
He sat in on the interview process and offered his opinion.
When I discovered Damiano’s past, I questioned Callum’s knowledge, but he assured me he was just as unaware as I had been.
He proposed setting up stricter security measures to keep us safe, convincing me that Damiano must have been a pawn of yours.
He installed voice recorders in my office and said all our phones should be tracked in case any of us went missing, and so on.
I agreed, thinking it was best to protect us all.
Now I believe it was for his own purposes—to keep tabs on Aria and me.