Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Basili
“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Mr. Tao.”
Delan’s face fills my computer screen, Shufen seated beside him. They’re in a very formal-looking office with all dark wood, walls adorned with expensive art.
Likewise, I sit in my own office, alone, the door locked. Omero is listening in from his office down the hall, ready to jump in if needed.
“Of course. I’d very much like to conclude our business.” Delan’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as usual.
“That is what I wanted to discuss.” I keep my voice professional. “I’ve reconsidered the terms of our alliance, and I have some of my own to add.”
Shufen’s eyes flicker to her father, then back to the screen. Intuitively knowing what’s coming if she’s as smart as her little sister.
“I see.” Delan’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “And what exactly have you reconsidered?”
“I am no longer in need of the alliance we discussed. The Russian situation has… resolved itself through other means.”
It’s a lie, but a necessary one. The truth would initiate all-out war. One I’m not prepared for, not yet. Not until I have all my chess pieces in play.
“That’s… irrelevant.” Delan’s voice goes cold. “We had an arrangement —”
“No. We had a discussion.” I lean forward, weaving my fingers together on top of the desk in front of me. “However, I understand the benefits to these sorts of arrangements. Which is why I’m proposing an alternative arrangement.”
“An alternative.” He doesn’t sound interested, but I see Shufen sit up a little straighter.
“My Capo, Omero Montanti, is a man of considerable standing in my organization. He is connected, powerful in his own right, respectable.” I pause. “And he has expressed interest in pursuing this marriage alliance between our families. With my blessing of course.”
I don’t mention the conversation Chloe, Omero, and I had two days ago.
How she’d explained the intricacies of Triad politics — that a rejected marriage proposal without an offer of alternative would be seen as a grave insult.
That it would bring shame to Shufen publicly, damage her marriage prospects, reflect poorly on Delan’s ability to arrange beneficial alliances, and so on and so forth.
We needed to give them an alternative, a way to save face. Omero had agreed without hesitation when I’d suggested the idea.
“Your second.” Delan’s eyes narrow. “In your place.”
“Correct. I’m withdrawing from consideration.
I have my own plans for my next marriage.
But Omero represents a strong alliance. The Montanti family has considerable connections.
In many ways, it is a more advantageous match than I could offer.
And through that marriage, Shufen would essentially become a part of my own family. ”
It’s a stretch, and we both know it, but it’s a stretch that allows Delan to accept without taking a loss.
Shufen speaks for the first time. “Father, this could be a valuable connection for us indeed.”
Smart girl.
Delan is quiet for a long moment, contemplative, his fingers steepled in front of him.
“I will need to meet with this Capo of yours,” he finally says. “Ensure he understands the expectations of such an arrangement.”
“He’s available at your convenience.”
“And there will need to be some financial terms discussed —”
“Of course. Same as before, additional trade access. Territory agreements. The only change is the groom.”
Another long pause. “I’ll need time to consider this.”
“Understandable.” I keep my expression neutral even though I want this meeting to be over. “But I’ll need an answer within the week.”
“You will have it.” Delan’s smile is sharp. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Cierro.”
The screen goes black. I lean back in my chair, releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My phone buzzes on the desk beside me. Omero.
“Think he bought it?” He asks when I answer.
“He doesn’t have much choice. Accepting looks better than starting a war over a rejected marriage proposal.”
“And if he doesn’t accept?”
“Then we will be ready,” I say glumly. “But I think he will. His daughter was right there giving him the reassurance he needed.”
“Clever girl, that one.”
“She is.” I think of Chloe’s half-sister, how she helped Chloe escape, how she sat there giving her father reassurances of the out he needed. “Maybe too clever for her own good.”
“When do you want to set up the meeting he requested?”
“Let’s give him a few days. Let Delan digest the changes. Make him think we’re being patient, doing him a favor.”
“You got it, boss. And hey — thanks. For finding a way out of this that might not end in all out war and bloodshed. I know how difficult that must be for you given all that’s happened.”
“Thank Chloe. It was her idea.”
I hang up and check my watch. Six PM. I need to get upstairs and get ready. Tonight, I’m taking Chloe out for a night on the town. Like two normal people. No business. No drama. Just us.
She deserves that much.
The theater is small, intimate —– one of those off-Broadway productions that Chloe mentioned loving when we were talking once. The play is excellent though I’ll admit I spend more time watching her face light up than actually following the plot.
Dinner afterward is at a small Italian restaurant I know of, tucked away from the usual mafia haunts. Somewhere we can be just Basili and Chloe, not the Don and the woman hiding from her merciless father.
“This is perfect,” she says, looking around the candlelit tables, rocking her head to the soft music. “How did you find this place?”
“I have my ways,” I say with a sly smile, pouring her a glass of wine. “You look beautiful by the way.”
She’s wearing a simple black dress, her hair down, minimal makeup. Her natural beauty shines through.
“Thank you.” She blushes slightly. “I’m not used to this. Being taken out. Treated.”
“Well, get used to it. I plan to do this for you as often as I can.”
We eat, talk, and laugh for hours. I let myself forget about the Triad, the Taos, the Russians, and all the complications waiting for us at home.
“Tell me about your mother,” I say over dessert. “You mention her every now and then but never in great detail.”
Chloe’s expression shifts, becoming distant. “She died when I was six. I didn’t know her well, but I remember bits and pieces.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s alright,” she assures, reaching across to place her hand over my own on the table between us.
“She was kind from what I remember. Gentle. She met my father on a business trip in Los Angeles, I think she might have actually loved him. At first, anyways.” She pulls her hand back, using her finger to trace the rim of her wine glass as she continues, “She was very… American. He never loved her. She was just… convenient. And then inconvenient when I came along.”
“Was Delan always abusive? To all of you?”
“No. He was never kind, either. I honestly think he hated me from the day I was born. Once she died, I was alone in that house with no buffer remaining.”
“Except for Shufen.”
“Except for Shufen,” she echoes with a small sad smile.
“She’s four years older than me. She didn’t have to be kind, but she chose to be.
Chose to acknowledge her father’s bastard daughter when he brought me home.
She’d sneak me food when father locked me in my room.
Taught me Mandarin in secret so that I wouldn’t get hit as much for not knowing the right words.
And when I was sixteen and Father’s attention really locked onto me, she helped me get out. ”
“She risked a lot.”
“She risked everything. If my father ever finds out that she is the one who helped me…” Chloe shakes her head. “I owe her my life. Which is why I hate that she’s still trapped there. Still playing the perfect daughter while I have my freedom.”
“If your plan works out, you’ll be the one helping her escape too.”
“Maybe.” But she doesn’t sound hopeful.
We’re heading back to the car when Chloe’s phone buzzes. She pulls it out, frowning down at the screen.
“Unknown number,” she murmurs then her face goes ghost white.
“Chloe? What is it?” She shows me the screen.
Hide him, cherry blossom.
“Cherry blossom?” I ask. Not following.
“That’s Shufen’s nickname for me since we were children.” Her hands shake slightly. “It’s her. She’s warning us.”
“Warning us about what?” I ask, brow furrowing.
“I don’t know…” Chloe murmurs then gasps, eyes widening in fear. “Emmanuel. He’s in danger.”
“We need to go,” I say, standing abruptly. She does the same. “Now.”
We’re in the car and moving before I can process it all. I grab my phone to call Raffaello.
He answers on the second ring. “Boss?”
“Emmanuel. Where is he?”
“He’s in his room in bed. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Double the guards. Secure the perimeter. No one in or out. I’m five minutes away. It may be nothing, but I’m not willing to take any chances.”
“Boss, what’s going on —”
“Just do it!” I yell before hanging up. Tapping the phone against my lips in an attempt to pacify my frustration as I push down on the accelerator. Pushing the sports car into the triple digits.
“Basili,” Chloe whispers beside me.
“We’re almost there.”
But I know. Even before we pull up to the house, before I see the chaos around the yard— men running every which direction, all the security lights on, Maria crying on the front steps —my gut sinks and I know.
We’re too late.
I’m out of the car as soon as I throw it in park, throwing the keys on the driver’s seat behind me. I take the front steps three at a time, Chloe close on my heel.
“Where is he?” I roar.
Maria is sobbing, an angry gash on her forehead. “He’s gone. They came through the back. I heard boots, running, I tried to stop them, Basili, but–”
“Omero!” I below.
He appears from the side of the house, chest rising and falling, breathing hard. “Boss. They had a car waiting —”
“Show me where.”