Chapter Twenty Enzo #2
I tossed a glance at Luca, who sat back, looking remarkably at ease with the situation.
He wouldn’t let Alex and the Bratva see how deep the cut of being dumped by Sofia ran.
The temperature in the room fell deep into arctic territory, with one of our soldiers hurrying to pour everyone more whiskey.
“Easy there, Achilles.” Alex’s smirk broadened. “Bratva men have a history of playing with Ferrante women. This is simply what we do from time to time.”
Achilles flashed his teeth in what he considered a smile. “Come a little closer and say that to my face. See how that works out for you.”
Fond of all his organs exactly where they were, Alex decided not to take him up on the tempting offer, choosing to examine the artwork behind my head instead.
For some bizarre reason, Achilles and Alex never looked each other in the eye. I couldn’t fathom what could be the cause for such awkwardness, but I was a little too busy with my own clusterfuck of a life to investigate.
“Who owns the horrendous Lambo outside?” Alex asked, changing the subject.
“You mean the enticing piece of art?” I flicked cigarette ash from my slacks. “Me.”
“You know what they say about Italian cars.” Slava grinned. “Beautiful but impractical, unreliable, and high maintenance.”
He wasn’t talking about cars, and we all knew it. My mouth lifted at the corners serenely.
“You know what they say about Russian cars…” I tapped my chin, then dropped my hand. “Oh, my bad, you don’t have any.”
“I’m bored,” Luca announced, playing with an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “This wedding is happening with or without swans and flowers. Now, let’s talk shop.”
Achilles stretched the U.S. map on the table in front of everyone. Two months ago, the Bratva and Camorra had agreed to divvy up the states not yet claimed by organized crime families.
“I’m glad you brought it up,” Alex said coolly. “Since our agreement to territorial concessions at the time was contingent on Jeremie working for you. That is no longer the case. You sacked him.”
“No, it was contingent on Jeremie staying on the East Coast in one fucking piece,” Luca corrected him tonelessly. “That’s still the case, though not for long, if you don’t drag him back to Vegas. Alone.”
Alex and Luca were locked in a stare-down. Thank fuck I’d never had serious aspirations about becoming don. The stress would do terrible things to my glowing skin.
Alex was the first to sit back and smile. “All right, what are your thoughts regarding the current borders?”
“Before we discuss our mutual borders, I’d like to settle another issue. The Outfit are telling me that Bratva pockets have started operating in Chicago.”
“That’s nonsense,” Alex said dryly.
“They’ve provided incontrovertible proof,” Luca said.
“Have they, now?” Alex’s eyes narrowed. “By all means, do share them with the class.”
Luca slid his phone across the table. “That’s the Bratva mark, correct? On this dead man’s chest?”
Alex frowned, sliding the device back to him with a nod.
“The Outfit killed three of your soldiers who were selling drugs in their territory.”
“I see. And you’re doing the Outfit’s bidding now?”
“Bandini is my father-in-law,” Luca said confidently, as though this fact would remain to eternity. “Obviously, when needed, I’m at his disposal.”
“Obviously…” Alex muttered, looking confused for a second. He shook his head. “I need to look into this. Chicago’s not on our radar. Never really has been, but especially not these days.”
“These days?” I frowned.
“Yes. SSA Rothwell is moving to their bureau. Apparently, he’s going to be the head of the task force to bring the Outfit down.”
It felt like he’d lit my whole heart on fucking fire. My stomach bottomed out, and nausea hit the back of my throat.
Tom was moving? When? Why? Was he ever going to tell me?
You mean jack shit to him, Enzo. So probably never.
“You’re looking pale.” Slava’s malicious expression tightened, his tone accusing. “What’s the matter, forgot to hit your tanning bed today, Enzo?”
Was he insinuating I was the Bratva’s mole? I swear I’ve had it with this douche.
“Sei un figlio di puttana.”
“The fuck does that mean?” Slava snarled.
“That you’re the son of a whore.” Achilles’s steely gaze collided with Slava’s. “Now, where were we?”
“You wanna go outside?” Slava jerked his thumb to the door. It was a futile dare. I’d rip him to shreds before he had the chance to lift his ass off the chair.
“Why, do you need someone to walk you to take a shit?” I feigned confusion.
Everyone chuckled, Alex included. I used the moment to school my face and pretend the news about Tom hadn’t gotten to me.
Luckily, this concluded the shit-talking and bickering portion of the meeting.
Luca and Alex took over the conversation and discussed things like drug shipments, mild territorial feuds, and weapons.
Luca gave Alex several opportunities to fess up to any shipments he might be expecting in New York, even highlighting the Camorra’s willingness to allow the Bratva to accept shipments in our ports under supervision and for a fair cut, but Alex played dumb and confessed to nothing.
When they were done, Alex asked if he could have a word alone with me. Everyone left the room.
He remained utterly still, waiting a few moments after the door clicked shut behind us to ensure we weren’t heard.
“How are you doing, Enzo?”
“I—”
“Just kidding; I could not care less.” His unfriendly smile stretched just beyond the limit of gentility. “I need to say my piece before this wedding takes place.”
A cold chill glided along my skin. I was dreading this talk almost as much as I was the actual event.
The wedding.
Everything in my life revolved around this goddamn wedding.
I narrowed my eyes. “Let me guess, she’s not like other women, I need to be gentle with her, blah blah, fucking blah?”
“You? Hurting my sister? No. Katya can skin your ass with a nail file.” Alex snorted, waving me off. “I’m not worried about the physical aspect of it at all. Nor about you cheating on her. She’d do the same. You’re both not innocent in that respect.”
“Well, then what do you want?” I growled, impatient.
“To warn you about this wedding,” he hissed.
“Initially, Vello and I had agreed that Achilles and Katya would marry. Katya was very interested in the scarred brute. Don’t ask me why.
My sister operates in mysterious ways. When he turned her down so carelessly, her self-esteem took a real blow.
Achilles had to jump through hoops to convince me to accept you as the groom instead.
No offense, but you’re the spare, not the heir.
No significant amount of power will ever find its way to you. ”
“Are you ever gonna get to the point, or am I expected to sit here for a few more hours and listen to your bootleg version of The Godfather monologue?” My jaw twitched.
“Point is, she can’t handle another rejection.”
I stared at him through a mist of white-hot rage, biting my tongue until it bled.
“You can’t call off this wedding, no matter what,” he clarified.
Again, I didn’t give him my word. I couldn’t bring myself to throw my life away unless Luca and Achilles absolutely demanded it. And I hadn’t decided whether I was desperate enough to beg them to or not.
“Do you understand”—Alex rose to his feet and loomed across the table to meet my gaze—“that I will kill you if you humiliate her like Achilles did? Because I will. With my bare hands. In front of an audience.”
Slowly, I stood as well, towering a few good inches over the Russian. I was sick and tired of being treated like a simple pawn. A sacrificial lamb, the lesser Ferrante brother.
I slammed my palms between us, rattling the entire room with my force.
“I don’t take orders from the Bratva, Alex.
Only from the Camorra. Specifically, from the don.
Don’t mistake my amiable nature for weakness.
I will do whatever’s good for my clan, for my organization, for my family.
Now, if you wish for this wedding to happen so badly, I suggest you make right with Luca and drag Jeremie back to Vegas, before I send him to you in a body bag. ”
“You won—”
“I will.” My voice did not waver. “And I am sorely tempted to. Don’t forget, I did not ask for this union. Nor am I happy to share my roof and my bed with a Bratva princess.”
The pakhan scanned my face, looking for a crack, for a tremble, for a flinch. “And if I get Jeremie out of your hair, will you marry her? Will you promise to make her happy?”
A dull, rusty ache pierced my chest, like a fingernail digging inside an open wound. It was a sacrifice worth making. I was destined to stay in the closet forever, with or without Katya. If I wouldn’t marry her, I’d marry another woman from a family we needed a business alliance with.
My future held no great love story.
But Luca…he still had a chance.
My throat burned with all the things I couldn’t say, and I swallowed them down.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “You have my word.”
Alex patted my cheek with a condescending smile. “Very good. In that case, you should head home to greet her. She’s on her way to you. Wanted to surprise you. Put on a show for her, yeah? Pretend you missed her.”
I traipsed out of the room, the dark goo inside me overspilling.