Chapter Twenty-Six
(Cesare)
With a muffled curse, Cesare answered the fourth phone call from his father, as he walked out onto the balcony. “Pops, what’s the matter?”
“Your brother is missing.” His father’s gravelly voice spoke through the phone.
“What do you mean he’s missing? Who’s missing?” Cesare demanded.
“Enzo.” Cesare Sr. grunted. “His car was found abandoned on the side of the highway by local police. The front seat had a single red rose.”
Cesare blinked as a very old, deep-seated fury pulsed through his veins. “Damasco?”
His father gave a pained grunt of acknowledgment.
“Where are you?” Cesare growled.
“I’m in the basement.”
Cesare’s heart stopped for a moment, and he closed his eyes, struggling to keep his voice even. “Who’s basement, Pops?”
“Yours.”
Cesare hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair, irritated to see it tremor just slightly out of the corner of his eye. He called Enzo’s number, and it went straight to voicemail.
Cesare fired off a text to Dante with a muttered curse. Their father had literally gotten away with murder. And when Cesare Sr. was released on good behavior, the man’s job, his only job, had been to stay out of further trouble.
Cesare didn’t know everything that had happened while he was in Maine, but what he did know was now his baby brother was missing, and Pops was in the basement, which, aside from the kitchens and storage, served as a glorified execution room.
One that Cesare had said repeatedly was not to be used for shit like this anymore. This was his home now.
Besides that, Enzo was the craziest of them all.
Cesare he had a very difficult time imagining anyone would voluntarily pick Enzo as a target.
If anyone were stupid enough to put Enzo in a hostage situation, the youngest Lombardi would literally be more trouble than he was worth.
In fact, of all the brothers, Enzo was the most likely to flip a bitch and turn any would-be kidnappers into captives themselves, if they were lucky.
Cesare turned around to look at Sabrina, her beautiful curves and copper red hair an absolute vision.
And she was here, standing in his bedroom.
She was tracing some sort of pattern along the linen of his comforter, deep in thought as she looked at the bed.
She was too good, too sweet for this. Cesare would not allow his inability to rein in his father to corrupt what Cesare was so painstakingly building for his tesoro.
As if sensing the weight of his stare, Sabrina looked up and met Cesare’s gaze. She blushed like a schoolgirl and Cesare found himself speechless. He cleared his throat and held out his hand, gesturing for her to join him on the balcony.
Like a good girl, she came to him, her trusting expression only serving to increase his resolve to protect her from this.
She stepped into his arms as they stood above the terrace, overlooking the back gardens that unfolded towards the Delaware River. Sabrina sighed and pressed an affectionate kiss to the center of his chest, over the silk fabric of his shirt.
“It’s beautiful here.” She smiled. “Thank you for bringing me.”
Cesare nodded silently, holding her tighter. “I’m probably about to disappoint you, and for that I’m sorry. But some things have come up that will probably take me away for most of the day, but I’ll be back this evening.” He paused to kiss her forehead.
“In the meantime, I want you to unpack and rest. Mrs. Bonetti will bring you lunch in a bit, and then one of the drivers will take you to the spa. Do whatever you want. Get whatever you want. I won’t be able to talk much, but I’ll call you this evening when I can.”
Sabrina wrinkled her nose, looking up at Cesare. “As glamorous as that sounds, I’d really prefer to spend time with you here.” Her expression became more mischievous. “Preferably in your lap. Somewhere nobody can hear us.”
Cesare responded by taking Sabrina’s mouth with his. He reached up to cradle the back of her head in his hands and sucked her tongue into his mouth, sliding his own against hers, grinding himself into the softness of her stomach.
“You and I both,” He pulled back, breathless. “I’ll be back tonight. Be a good girl and enjoy yourself, tesoro. Let me spoil you, hmm?”
Sabrina sighed, her lips slightly pursed. “Okay.”
“Good.” He praised, kissing her lips once more. He took one last look at her beautiful lips before pulling away with a pained sigh. “I’ll call you this evening.”
“When are you coming back?” She asked.
Cesare tried not to let his frustration show. “I’ll let you know when I know myself. If you need anything at all, ring Mrs. Bonetti through the intercom and she’ll take care of you, okay?”
Sabrina eyed him like she was evaluating a new animal at the rescue, and he didn’t like it.
“Okay.” She nodded.
Cesare left with blood pounding in his ears and agitation coursing through his veins.
When he found his father, Cesare Sr. was in fact in the downstairs murder basement.
A single light bulb flickered in a large, unfinished concrete room with exposed piping above and a single open drain below. Cesare Sr. circled a young man chained upside down, hanging from a metal bar that ran the length of the room.
The Italian patriarch looked up with a sinister grin. “He says he knows nothing, but he’s a Damasco. It’s always a fucking Damasco!”
Cesare stared, looking at the puddle of urine that trickled down and pooled beneath their guest’s head.
“How many fingers have you taken?” Cesare muttered, evaluating the boy.
“None, yet. Thought I’d let you do the honors.
Took you long enough to get here, though.
A little longer and he’ll be dead from the blood pooling in his brain.
” Cesare Sr. answered smugly. “Do you hear that, fish-bait? That’s what you’ll be at the bottom of the Delaware by the end of tonight if you don’t start fucking talking! ”
Cesare frowned at the sense that something wasn’t adding up.
“Tell me everything, starting from the beginning. What happened to Enzo?” Cesare asked his father, his gaze going back to the kid who was shaking like a leaf and mumbling incoherently.
He didn’t look like he was capable of tying his own shoes, much less affiliated with someone capable of kidnapping Enzo Lombardi.
Cesare Senior blinked, then scowled. “Well, I just told you, the police called and said they found his car, and a rose was in the fucking front seat! This guy was in on it! What do you think happened?” He demanded.
“Who else knows about this, Pops? Why am I the only one here?”
“I told Alfie to call everyone else, ask him! I’m taking care of this piece of shit who thinks he can take on a Lombardi and walk away in one piece, but he’s wrong.
Because if fish bait doesn’t start talking, I’m going to carve him into fucking pieces.
” His eyes flashed with unbridled rage, and the pit growing in Cesare’s stomach turned into the fucking Grand Canyon.
“Where’s Alfie, Pops?” Cesare asked, his throat tightening.
“What do you mean, where’s Alfie? I left him in the hallway, Cesare. What the fuck are you waiting for? This dirtbag took your brother, or knows who did it.”
Cesare stepped slowly towards the man and squatted on the ground, bringing them face to face. “Hey!” He shouted. “Snap the fuck out of it!”
The incoherent mumbling stopped as the man looked wide eyed, though barely coherent, from Cesare Jr. to Cesare Sr.
“What’s your name?” Cesare asked.
The man started to cry again. The pressure of being upside down had turned his face purple and his eyes were visibly beginning to bulge. Cesare estimated he had a few minutes before blood vessels burst and he died of internal bleeding… if his father didn’t finish him off sooner.
“What’s your fucking name?!” Cesare demanded.
“Anthony. Anthony Ferraiolo.” He mumbled through a swollen tongue.
“What were you doing in Enzo’s car?” Cesare demanded.
“I borrowed it, that's all. I swear, just ask Enzo.” Tony wheezed, jerking back when Cesare Sr. advanced.
“He’s a fucking liar, Cesare. Where is my boy?! He’s been missing for weeks!” Cesare’s father screamed.
Cesare called Enzo again, with no answer. He called Rafael. A moment later, Rafael answered.
“When was the last time you saw Enzo?” Cesare demanded.
“Is this a trick question?” Rafael asked.
“When was the last time you fucking saw Enzo?” Cesare demanded.
“We’re literally driving in my car right now. Do you need to talk to him?” Rafael asked.
Cesare stilled and counted to three in his head before turning back to face his father, phone still pressed to his ear. “I have an update, Pops. Let’s talk outside.”
Cesare gave a meaningful nod towards the man hanging from the chain and then gestured towards the hall outside.
“Fucking Damasco. Can’t trust anyone that isn’t family.” Cesare Sr. muttered as he stalked out of the room.
Cesare cast a glance at the hanging time bomb behind them, and then at his father’s retreating back, and spoke quietly into the phone.
“I need you and Enzo at my house as soon as fucking humanly possible.” Cesare spoke, urgency lacing his tone. “Pops thinks Enzo was kidnapped.”
There was a brief pause on the other line, and Anthony Ferraiolo chose that of all moments to scream for help.
“Let me go!” He screamed. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” He begged.
“Why does Pops think Enzo was kidnapped?” Rafael asked, his voice so calm it was clinical.
“His head,” Cesare swallowed. “I don’t know. You’re the doctor, Raffi. He thinks Alfie Donatelli is still alive.”
There was a beat of silence before Rafael responded in the same even tone. “We’re on the way.”
Cesare hung up the phone and took a step towards Tony. “I’m going to let you down.” Cesare muttered as he lowered the chain from which the young man hung. “You’re going to breathe while your blood returns to your extremities. It’ll sting like hell, but you’ll be fine. Sit tight and I’ll be back.”