Chapter 24
ETTORE
Later, Mark and I sit in the back of the car, driving toward a meeting with the city’s Families.
Mark is more anxious than usual, tapping his fingers against his legs.
I feel cold and icy all over, except for the embers flickering inside me, telling me to end this, end it savagely, and without hesitation.
Mara: Good luck.
A smile touches my lips. Things have changed between us. It’s more than sex. It’s like we’re refusing to keep wearing our masks. Perhaps me more than her. She was right when she said I’m supposed to be the mature one.
Ettore: Thank you. I’ll see you soon.
“Do you think Ugo’s confession is enough?” Mark asks anxiously.
“It will have to be,” I grunt.
“This would be one hell of a war.”
“Then it will be one hell of a war.”
He looks sideways at me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say fiercely. “The Calvis are dogs. Look at what his men have been doing. They think they can control us. That they can do anything they want. They think they can kill innocent people and make children orphans.”
He grinds his teeth, but he doesn’t say anything. Good. He knows I’m talking about my woman. He knows this has gone beyond business and even my deep desire to keep my daughter out of this life.
“If we fight, we fight until the end,” Mark says. “We have to be more brutal than them. We have to be beasts.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
Four of us meet in a smoky room in the back of a bar. Cesare Malaspina, Ottavio Rinaldi, Ruggero Calvi, and myself. There are no underbosses, no captains, no consiglieri. Just the men who make the real decisions.
Cesare, a man in his sixties, smooths a hand over his heavily tanned bald head, his gold watch flashing.
“Don Ferrante is still in Miami,” he says.
“As his territories and business don’t overlap with either the Calvis or the Bellandis, it’s generally agreed that we can proceed on this issue without him. ”
Ottavio, a man a couple of years younger than me, not yet graying, hides a smirk behind a pull on his cigarette.
He’s covered in tattoos, dark ink all over his hands, disappearing into his black T-shirt, reappearing on his neck and up to his face.
Ottavio is often amused by how official Cesare speaks.
Ruggero sighs and adjusts the tie of his crisp suit. “Let’s get down to business, gentlemen.”
Cesare turns to me. “I believe you have some desire to attest to certain grievances, Ettore?”
“Whose head is going on what spike?” Ottavio grunts, stubbing out his cigarette and immediately lighting another. “Let’s get down to real talk here.”
“Bastian Calvi, executed,” I grunt. “With a promise from you, Ruggero, that you’ll accept your nephew’s fate.
You won’t retaliate. You’ll understand the little prick deserves it.
After I’ve taken care of the little prick, we’ll resume business, but you’ll agree to get your men under control.
No more kidnapping pregnant women. No more assaults.
No more moves that are bad for business. ”
Ruggero stares at me for a long time, then lets out a civilized laugh that makes me want to cave his face in. “Excuse me?”
“Your nephew launched an unsanctioned attack on a Bellandi-owned business.”
The other two Dons spin to him, Cesare with the wide, shocked eyes of a man who can’t imagine a fellow Don would violate tradition.
Launching an attack without the approval of the other Families?
It’s unthinkable… unless you’re clever enough to leave behind no evidence.
Ottavio grins, enjoying the show, shrouded in smoke.
“Do you have any proof?” Ruggero says. “Or are these unfounded, paranoid delusions all you came with?”
This is the game. This is where I shine. This is where these morons become overzealous, consumed by their egos. They only know how to think in terms of threats and blood and hate.
“I don’t as yet have any proof,” I say. I lie. “That’s why I’m here. I want the permission of these fine gentlemen, including yourself, Ruggero, to question your men. I want a full investigation into what happened. That is, if your men can be trusted.”
Ruggero smirks at me like I’m an idiot. I know what he’s thinking. Is this all you have?
“My men can be trusted,” he says.
“You vouch for their word?”
“You can ask them anything. I assure you, they’ll give you the correct answer.”
Yeah, because he’ll have time to scare them.
“So, you’re saying that if I were to talk to one of your men, and he told me that your nephew did this, it would be proof?”
“You’ll never get that proof,” Ruggero spits.
“But it would be proof?”
Ruggero slams his hand on the table. “My men would not admit to this because it did not happen.”
I nod, leaning back in my chair. “Gentlemen, I’m going to play a recording for you now. This was taken while I was having a, let’s call it, aggressive conversation with Ugo Nerli. Ruggero told him to lie low, but the idiot gave himself away.”
Ruggero starts fidgeting in his chair as I take out my phone and hit play.
“The jewelry store hit was… Bastian’s… idea. He… wanted… to… provoke… you. Ruggero found out after. He was cleaning up his nephew’s mess. Bastian just wanted… Bastian wants an alliance. It’s good for everyone. You and Vera—that was good, Mr. Bellandi. Bastian just wants you, or your little girl…”
“He wants my little girl?”
“She’s almost a woman.”
The recording ends. Ottavio is grinning. Cesare looks disgusted.
“Nobody can blame you for covering up for your nephew,” I tell Ruggero. “If you really didn’t know about this attack, I have no rights to your life. But your nephew must die.”
I want to kill this bastard too. But I have to be mature, like my woman told me.
“He’s a stupid child,” Ruggero snaps.
I think about what the loan shark informant said on that recording. How cold Bastian has always been. A born psycho who enjoys inflicting pain. And I thought Dante was the problem.
“He’s a grown man who attacked a protected business without provocation.”
“No one was hurt,” Ruggero mutters.
“I don’t give a shit. They could’ve been. And it was my business.”
Ruggero stands.
“The meeting is not done,” Cesare says coldly.
“You better listen,” Ottavio adds, chuckling. “I’ve never heard the old dog bark so grumpily.”
Cesare glares at him, then points to Ruggero’s chair. Ruggero sits reluctantly.
“Losing my nephew would mean losing my legacy. I have no sons.” Ruggero adjusts his collar. “So, I’ll make you a reasonable offer. Agree to marry my daughter, and you can have him. That way, my legacy will go on. My blood will run this city.”
I massage my forehead. In terms of strictly business, this would be the reasonable thing to do.
It’s what led to me marrying Vera. But I can’t stop thinking about the fact the Calvis killed my woman’s parents.
Or the fact that all his men are psychotic.
I know he’s out there, hurting people, abusing them.
“No,” I say coldly.
“Have some sense,” Ruggero says. “If not my daughter, then we’ll have to seek another arrangement.”
I look at him, ice in my veins. “Such as?”
“You have a daughter. I have a nephew. Don’t look at me like that.” He shakes his head slowly. “You’re so sentimental. I’m not saying we marry the girl while she’s still a child. A promise, made in front of witnesses, that the day she turns eighteen—”
I stand, slamming both fists on the table.
“I ought to wring the life from your puny little neck right now. Look at you, no kind of man at all. I could fucking end you with a single punch.” I slam the table again.
“Let me make this clear, in my Family, we don’t deal in women.
We don’t deal in…” Love, I almost say. But I can’t show that side of me in front of these men.
“That. My daughter is off-limits, and you should be ashamed of yourself for not caring what your own daughter wants. Never mention this again.”
Ruggero stands. “You’re not getting my nephew.”
“You’re half a corpse already, then,” I snarl, turning and striding from the room. I kick open the door and walk out to the car, Mark rushing behind me.
“Not good?” Mark asks.
I bang on the driver’s partition. “Drive.”
For twenty minutes, I sit, seething. Mark tries to talk to me. But I can’t. The stones on that man to even bring that up to my face. His hints were bad enough. But to outright say it.
My cell phone rings. It’s Ambra Calvi. Does Ruggero think she can talk me around or something?
“You’re wasting your time,” I tell her.
“Ettore?” she says, voice quiet.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know…”
“What don’t you know?” I ask, wondering if she’s drunk.
“My cousin is here and he’s been ranting, worse than he usually is, and when I asked him what was wrong… he hit me, very hard. Harder than usual.”
Rage coils in my gut. “Is he there now?”
“No, that’s why I’m calling. He was talking about hitting that arrogant prick where it hurts. I know things are tense between our Families right now. He had men with him. And plenty of weapons. I think something bad is going to happen.”
Fuck.
“He’s never going to hit you again, Ambra,” I say, then hang up the phone. “Mark, call the estate security. Tell them to be ready.”
I call Mara, but there’s no response. I text her.
Ettore: Get Sylvie to the safe room right now.
Immediately, I call Livia.
“Yes?” she says lightly.
“Safe room, now,” I bark.