Chapter 5
C ALLUM
The following day
“Can’t say I slept well,” I mutter, lifting the small porcelain cup to my lips and taking a sip of strong coffee.
Cosimo leans against the windowsill, his arms folded over his chest as the silence of the historic house wraps around us with the entire weight of the last two centuries.
Sitting at a round table with a wall covered in framed old photographs depicting a historic landscape behind me, and the dining room in front of me, I run my fingers through my hair.
I take another sip of coffee and stare through the open double doors at the table I just sat at moments ago.
I ate alone at the white-linen-covered table, from a fine blue-and-white porcelain plate, with a wine decanter and a few dark red roses in a vase in front of me.
The crystal chandelier was lit despite the sun peeking through the windows and the curtains.
The food was good.
The ruby wine was thick and full of flavor.
A few rose petals fell off.
The history of this place, which had been owned by a noble family two hundred years ago, occasionally felt heavy, as if time had stood still.
I moved to this room to shake some of that feeling that I was trapped in a frame of time that wasn’t mine, and also because thinking about a particular woman felt like a sin.
I didn’t sleep at all last night, to be truthful.
No matter how many doors I shut over the idea of her, I couldn’t remove her image from my head, nor could I forget her antics.
It felt like she and I had something in common.
We both had been bruised. And both had been betrayed.
Maybe that was an even stronger shackle than the view of her I kept in my mind. Her eyes burning with life, her power blooming, her skin soft like silk.
I wondered whether she knew of men in the biblical sense. I shuddered.
Who in their right mind could think that she didn’t?
Had she had a chance to be with one?
The better question is… Did anyone in her family keep an eye on her?
They seem pretty set on using her, whichever way is more convenient to them.
I can’t imagine they’re deliberately letting her be with men. On the other hand, they allowed Bianca to do whatever she wanted.
But who could’ve had this woman?I mean Leilani Gallo.
There’s no way anyone would dare. There’s no way.
Fuck.
Even now, all I can think of is that she might soon be someone’s wife.
That she is broken.
That the man wouldn’t care.That he’d probably have her body to produce offspring. Or that he might swing to the other end of the spectrum and initiate her in the filthiest ways of having sex.
But why would her family allow a random man to touch her before marrying her away?
She had relative freedom in her house these past two years. She could’ve done it if she wanted. Yet no man would’ve been so stupid as to become a sitting target because of her.
But there were plenty of men around the house.
Inconsequential men.
The idea that she might’ve opened her legs for someone working in the house gives me a splitting headache.
Why do I care?
I don’t care.
I take another sip of coffee while Cosimo offers me his comforting silence.
Somewhere in the house, an old wall clock ticks along, old times gleaming through its soft music.
And back in New York?
For sure, it didn’t happen in New York.
I would’ve known, noticed, been aware of it.
There were people everywhere. People who watched her.Some of them, perhaps too much.
I never liked that man. Julian York.
Who keeps someone like him around her?
I think he was after her.
Why else would she have come to me that evening in New York after I’d just moved into their house?
But even him.
Would he do something like that to her? Would she allow him to do that to her?
Something doesn’t add up.
She seemed scared of him.
I thought she was playing with me that night. One of her childish tricks to get my attention. But I’m not so sure now. Anyway, he’s not here, or is he?
I turn to Cosimo.
“Have you seen Julian York by any chance?”
He tilts his chin slowly.
“Really?”
“He arrived just after we left last night.”
“You know that for a fact?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why so late?”
“Have no idea.”
“I don’t like that motherfucker. He didn’t meet Leilani, did he?”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t think she knows he’s here.”
“He didn’t sleep at the house?” I ask, hopeful.
“I think he did, but she didn’t meet him.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
I pin a thoughtful gaze on him.
“Is Nona feeding you information about what happens in the house?”
A soft smile sweetens his features.
“Yes, she is.”
I put the porcelain cup down and drink some cold mineral water, my eyes still on him.
“Is she coming around?” I ask.
“She’s a good woman.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. A good woman is not for you. We can’t afford to have good women in our lives.”
“She’s hardly in my life.”
“And she should stay that way.”
A few seconds pass while I look at the lunch table again. A cake stand with an untouched layered cake sits not far from the vase.
“You want some cake?” I ask, rising to my feet and walking into the other room.
He doesn’t answer, yet follows me in silence.
“Why were you asking about him?” he asks as I slide a slice of Torta Savoia on a dessert plate and hand it to him.
I fix one for myself, musing over an answer.
“Other than that I don’t like him?”
“Mm-hmm,” he says, chewing on his dessert.
I smile and taste the layered chocolate cake myself.
“No reason in particular. I never liked that kid. And always hated the way he looked at Leilani. I don’t think it’s a good place for him to be when she’s around.”
“He won’t touch her.”
“You sure?”
I flick an eyebrow up in disbelief.
“They killed his father. I’m sure he learned something from it.”
Chewing thoughtfully, I lean against the table. We’re both standing, both eating cake.
“Why would they kill his father?” I ask with a cynical smile in my voice.
“You want a straight answer, Boss?”
“Always.”
I put the plate down and take a sip of wine, the flavors mixing perfectly.
“They removed him to make room for you.”
The simplicity of his rationale gives me pause.
“They’d do that?” I ask with irony in my voice.
“I’m sure they’d do. And they did that.”
“What are you basing this on?”
“The timing.”
“It was an accident,” I argue, just to hear him elaborate.
“A suspicious accident. We’re doing that for a living, Boss. You know how these accidents work.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I say, amused. “Still…”
I ponder a little longer.
It’s not like it’s never crossed my mind.
But there was so much going on.
My fallout with Stefano Varela.
The loss of money.
Giorgio Gallo's stepping in.
A chill zaps down my spine.
There was so much to coordinate, even without taking out Bianca’s second husband. That would be a little crazy and would imply extensive planning, if, in fact, it were true.
It would, though, feed into my suspicion that everything was part of a bigger plan, premeditated, not left to chance.
That’s creepy and unhinged and fits perfectly into this family’s dark history.
He’s still waiting for me to continue.
I fill my mouth with cake to buy some time and gesture with my fork.
“Seemingly, I was the lucky husband. I’m still alive,” I joke, moving the conversation in a different direction.
“You can say that twice,” he says with humor, and we both chuckle.
“They’re sick,” I murmur, no longer laughing. “And it’s not completely out of the question. If that’s the case, they might have something to do with Bianca and Xavier’s deaths as well.”
“The word is, you put a hit on them.’
I gesture at him dismissively.
“Let them say that. It doesn’t matter what they say. All that counts is what I know.”
In this line of business, guessing who put a hit on whom could easily be a full-time job.
Too many people are interested in taking someone out at any given moment that it’s really hard to tell who’s actually done it. Too many people benefit from it, which incriminates everybody.
That’s why it’s so difficult to establish who did what.
It’s not like it hasn’t happened before that multiple people were involved in committing a crime.
People are passionate about committing crimes, or they wouldn’t do it.
Now that Cosimo has just dropped this on me, I take a closer look at this possibility.
The Gallos killing Everett York to create an opening for me as husband number three is far-fetched. Not out of the question, but far-fetched.
Criminals may be crafty and good planners, but they lack the sophistication of a seasoned chess master.
But I may be wrong.
Still, it’s too crazy an idea to even think about it.
I’m still lurking in the shadows, collecting clues while trying to connect Giorgio Gallo to Stefano Varela.
I’m still struggling to understand how much of a shared interest they had in bringing me down and making me a member of the Gallo family.
Including Everett’s death in this story is quite a stretch, adding even more depth and darkness to it.
Everett York, like Joseph O’Connor, her first husband, has never been a made man. He was just another man Bianca Gallo had desired.
He had social status and was wealthy enough to provide some legitimacy to her family’s illegal activities.
No one knows how much of a role Giorgio or Sylvia Gallo had played in introducing him to their daughter.
I’d guess none.
Except for a few instances, they didn’t seem that interested in who she was hooking up with.
That’s why it’s so hard to believe that they suddenly went to such great lengths to control her life and the men she married.
Was my marriage to her the result of a big shift in their tactics?
It sure was.
But having someone else removed so I could be part of the family, only for them to end up distrusting me?
Yeah, that doesn’t make much sense to me.
Plus, Bianca’s first husband hadn’t suffered the same fate.He’s still alive, from what I know, although no one has seen him in years.
So that may be outdated information, too.
We like to take the trash out in this business, and the Gallos excel at it. They’re experts, I might say.
As much as Bianca may have pretended to be an airhead at times, she abided by one of the pivotal rules in this life of crime.
Never talk about the past or the missing people.
Her first husband is not missing per se.
The last time anyone had heard of him, he was doing business in Sao Paolo, keeping a low profile.
He must have his reasons.
That’s why I’m baffled that they let him live.
He looks like someone who runs away from his past, and his reasons must be serious enough to make them want to kill him.
He’s alive, though, according to my sources.
And Everett is not.
Maybe they went after the low-hanging fruit.
Yeah, maybe.
Maybe they didn’t want to make it look suspicious.
Whenever dead bodies start to pile up, some busybody in the FBI assembles a team and goes after the people responsible for it.
I have little information on Joseph O’Connor’s past.
Can’t tell whether he’d worked with the Gallos or not.They’re tight-lipped. And Bianca didn’t share much.
The only thing I got from her was that the man had a wild streak and a hard time keeping it in check.
Color me shocked. Not really. She never wanted to confess to who exactly called it quits.
She insisted it was mutual, which I find hard to believe. But her family spared his life.
So, there’s that.
Cosimo’s phone rings just as I finish my dessert and drink more wine.
He answers the call, and just as fast, he moves his eyes to me.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, his stare not leaving mine.
For the next few moments, he only nods and gives cryptic answers to the person at the other end of the line, who seems to be a woman.
“I’m not sure about that,” he says, his eyes drilling into mine. “Probably not,” he goes on, and I gesture at him.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“Nona.”
He palms his phone.
“Leilani needs to talk to you.”
“In what matter?”
“She doesn’t know the details. All she knows is that Leilani wants to see you here in town.”
“No,” I say quickly, tilting my head down and threading my fingers through my hair before massaging my neck.
This woman.
Nona speaks again, and I hear her arguing, trying to make a good case about it.
There is nothing good about meeting Leilani, though.
Sylvia Gallo is already looking at me with suspicious eyes. I spent too much time with Leilani last night. Plus, her granddaughter was practically naked in front of me.
Not to mention they’re looking to marry her away.
The optics are bad, and there is no good reason to let Leilani be close to me again.
If anything more than my running my eyes over her body happens, we might as well set our world on fire.
Things would deteriorate so fast that I couldn’t hire enough men fast enough to cover up for us as we’d look for an exit to save our lives.
“Tell her I’m not seeing her. That’s the end of it.”
Now Nona is involved?
“You heard him,” Cosimo mutters, and soon after, he ends the call.
Silence falls around the table as I ponder for a second.
“What seems to be the problem now?” he murmurs.
“It's more of the same, I suspect. She wants me to get her out of a sticky situation. It’s not like I’m crazy about what they want to do to her, but it’s not my place to fix things for her.”
His silence bears the edge of understanding; I’d like to believe.
Smoothly, I bring my eyes to him.
“So what would you like to do this evening?” he asks.
“We’re going out. Go get Vittoria. We’ll dine downtown. I’ll try to get some sleep first and then head over there.”
“Okay, Boss.”
His suit rustles as he slides his phone into his pocket.
“See you later,” he says as I pick up my glass of wine from the table and make a beeline for the terrace.