Chapter Twenty #2
A few minutes later the door opens again and Salvatore stands there. “Elio.” He beams, obviously taken aback to see me on his doorstep. “My dear boy, this is such a surprise.”
“Sorry to just drop in on you.” I’m relieved he doesn’t look unhappy to see me. Just surprised.
He waves me off. “It’s fine. Come in. Turi should have let you in. He’s overly protective of me.” He steps aside and I enter the house. “Let’s go into the sitting room. The fire is lit so it’s nice and cozy.”
I follow him down a dim hallway hung with old scenic oil paintings and into a sitting room that smells like woodsmoke and leather. He settles in a brown armchair near the fire and I take the one across from him.
He studies me. “How’ve you been? Pregnancy going well?”
“Everything is good so far.” I smile. “I figured I’d come visit since Marcello is on another one of his trips.”
His eyes flicker. “Is he? He’s out of town?”
“Yep, he left this morning.” I grimace. “That’s why I thought this would be the perfect time to come visit you.”
He face relaxes as he sits back in his chair, nodding. “How long will he be gone?”
“Just a few days.”
“I see.” He gives a funny laugh. “I assume he has no idea you came to see me.”
“No. I didn’t tell him.”
“Interesting.” He nods. “So, what brings you here?”
I’m confused that he wouldn’t know why I’m here. “Well, I’m here because I was wondering how it went with Naldo. You were having dinner with him the other night.” I hesitate. “Um… do you remember you offered to vouch for Marcello?”
“Of course I remember.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “How… how did it go? Was he receptive?”
Instead of answering, he stands and goes to a tray nearby on a long table. “Would you like some chamomile tea? I just made it and was about to enjoy a cup.”
I hesitate, feeling frustrated. I really just want to know how it went with Naldo, but I don’t want to be rude. “Sure, tea would be great.”
“Wonderful. Tea is such a relaxing beverage, don’t you think?” He comes back with a china cup on a saucer.
I take the tea from him and rest the saucer and cup on my lap. He heads back to the teapot and he pours himself a cup. He returns to his chair, looking pleased as he crosses his legs. He blows on his tea and then takes a cautious sip, nodding his approval.
I also sample the tea, wincing because it’s hot.
I’m not a fan of the tea, but refusing the beverage would be impolite.
We sit in silence for a bit, sipping our tea and watching the fire crackle in the fireplace.
I’m impatient to ask him about Naldo, but don’t want him to feel as if that’s the only reason for my visit. Even if it was.
A clock ticks somewhere in the silent room, and I try to think how to bring up Naldo again without it being too awkward.
Salvatore is unusually easy to talk to but today the atmosphere between us is strained.
The fact he didn’t answer my question about how it went with Naldo has me on edge.
Did he not hear me or did he purposely not answer?
I clear my throat. “Sorry I didn’t call before dropping in on you. I was just dying to hear how it went with Naldo.”
He studies me. “And your curiosity got the best of you.”
“Yes.” I smile weakly. “As you know, I’ve been very worried for Marcello. Did it go okay when you spoke to Naldo?”
He studies me for a few moments, then seems to come to some sort of decision. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid you won’t like what I’m about to say, dear boy.”
I tense, stomach dropping. “Didn’t it go well with Naldo?”
He grimaces. “Well, it’s not really that simple.”
I frown. “It’s not?”
“No.” He sighs. “You see, I didn’t talk to Naldo.”
I blink at him, confused. “You didn’t?”
“No.” He sighs and sets his tea down.
“Didn’t you have dinner with him?”
He grimaces. “Oh, I had dinner with him, but we didn’t discuss Marcello.”
“I don’t understand.” I frown. “You volunteered to speak with him. It… it was your idea. You… you offered to smooth things over for Marcello.”
“Yes. I did make that offer.”
The more he speaks the more confused I feel. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t understand why you didn’t speak with Naldo about Marcello. Can you at least explain to me why you didn’t?”
“I didn’t speak with Naldo because I never actually intended to speak to him.” His voice has taken on a hard quality. “I have no real interest in helping Marcello.”
“What?” Shock rolls through me. “But you said—”
“I know what I said, Elio,” he snaps.
“So you lied about trying to help?” A chill shifts through me. “But… why would you lie about something like that?”
There’s the tiniest hint of guilt in his eyes, but then it’s gone. “Why do you think?”
“I have no idea.” Feeling breathless, I set my cup of tea on the table next to my chair. “Did I do something to upset you, Salvatore?”
“I’m afraid this isn’t really about you at all,” he says softly. “You were just a means to an end.”
“Salvatore, what the hell is going on?”
He doesn’t speak but his face changes. Not all at once. By degrees. It’s like watching the tide go out and finding what was underneath the whole time. The warmth drains from his eyes and what replaces it is something cold and hard. “Sorry, Elio,” he says.
My mouth goes dry. “For what?”
“For what’s going to happen to you.”
“What’s going to happen?” I whisper with dread.
His eyes flicker. “You and your child are going to pay for Marcello’s sins.”
“What are you talking about?” I hiss, eyes wide, my hands going protectively to my stomach.
“He needs to pay for what he did to me and my family.”
“I don’t understand. What did he do to you?”
“I had a son once.” He says it so quietly I almost don’t catch it.
My heart is racing as I hold his dark gaze. The man I’ve known as warm and fatherly isn’t there anymore. He’s looking at me like I’m his enemy.
“This is what happens when you get too close to the Foschini family.” His voice is filled with disgust. “People get hurt. Innocent people like you and my son.”
“You admit I’m innocent in all of this?”
“Yes.” His mouth thins. “But when you lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas.”
I blow out a shaky breath. “So, what you’re saying is you’re mad at the Foschinis for something and I’m going to pay the price?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Even though I… I did nothing to you?”
He shrugs. “Marcello is much harder to get to. You were easy to manipulate. I mean, just look at how you showed up at my house searching for answers. You literally delivered yourself to me. Am I not supposed to take advantage of that?”
I realize it’s in my best interests to keep him talking while I try and figure a way out of this nightmare.
The cavalry isn’t coming. Marcello is on the other side of the country, and Dante has no idea where I am.
It’s up to me to do something because this isn’t just about me.
If I die, my child dies. I can’t let that happen.
“What… what happened to your son?” I ask.
He curls his lip. “You don’t really care about my son.”
“Well, I’d certainly like to know why I’m going to die,” I rasp. “The reason is obviously connected to Marcello’s family and your son.”
He considers me for a moment, then says, “Fair enough. My son’s name was Cristiano.” His mouth tilts downward and he looks older all at once. “He was such a good boy. Wanted to make a mark in the world, but he wasn’t arrogant about it. He just wanted something to show for his life. All men do.”
“Yes, of course.”
His mouth hardens. “But he died before he could do that.” His eyes glitter with resentment. “All because Adriano Foschini got himself into trouble.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, of course you don’t.” He lets out a harsh breath. “My son died because Adriano was too precious to do time in prison.”
I watch him apprehensively. “I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.”
“Adriano got into trouble with the law. My old pal Domenico Foschini came up with a plan to keep his son out of prison,” he says bitterly.
“The golden heir couldn’t go to prison. So my dear old friend bought Cristiano.
Paid him a fortune to stand up in a courtroom and claim another man’s crime.
He seduced my son with promises of riches waiting for him on the other side. ”
Uneasiness curls in my gut as I listen. “Your son took Adriano’s place in prison?”
“Yes.” His mouth hardens. “Spoiler alert, he never walked out of that prison.” Salvatore’s knuckles have gone white. “Some lowlife who wanted his cigarettes stuck a shiv in him in the showers.”
“Jesus.”
“My son didn’t belong in there. Cristiano wasn’t made for a place like that.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I… I can’t imagine losing a child.”
He grits his teeth. “Marcello is going to understand how painful it is.”
Terror rolls through me. “No, Salvatore, please. It’s tragic what happened to Cristiano, but I… I had nothing to do with it.”
He curls his lip. “You made your bed when you married a Foschini.”
“Killing me and my baby won’t bring your son back.”
“No.” His lips thin. “But it’ll destroy Marcello, and that’s enough for me.”
“That’s not fair,” I say hoarsely. “My child shouldn’t have to die for his father’s sins.”
“Life isn’t fair, Elio,” he snarls. “If it were, my son would still be alive.”
“Look, I… I understand why you’re angry, but it sounds like your son took that deal willingly.” I hold his cold gaze. “My… my baby and I never did anything to you.”
“Save your breath,” he hisses. “There’s no talking me out of it. An eye for an eye is the only way I’ll find peace in this world.”
“The only way you’ll find peace is by brutally murdering me and my child?” I growl with outrage.
“I’m afraid so.”
Fury bubbles up inside of me and I’m out of the chair before I realize I’ve moved. The fireplace poker is the first thing I see. I grab it with both hands.
Salvatore’s expression changes. “Elio, put it down.”
“Promise me you’ll let me go.” My voice wobbles.
“I can’t do that.” He holds out his hand. “Give me the poker.”
“Hell no.” I swing the poker toward him.