Chapter Twenty-Three
Massimo
Wedged in the leather backseat of my SUV, the low, steady hum of the engine vibrated up through my legs, a counterpoint to the tension swirling in the air.
Beside me, my older brother Guilio sat with his usual stoic posture, arms folded and eyes narrowed in quiet judgment.
Across from him, Luca sat smirking as Aurelio beside him—never one to let silence linger—was practically vibrating with energy, his knee bouncing as he shot me a wicked glance.
I knew exactly what they were waiting for—the details regarding the aftermath of last night’s explosive new development with Miranda, one not even the thick mahogany of my bedroom door could muffle.
The walls of my bedroom had endured her furious screams, and so, it seemed, had the rest of the house.
My brothers’ fixation was as palpable as the golden city lights streaking across the tinted window beside me, painting flickering shadows over my clenched fists.
Luca couldn’t contain himself any longer.
“You know something, brother?” he crowed, leaning toward Aurelio with a melodramatic stage whisper, his eyes wide with exaggerated concern.
“I think Massimo has finally bitten off more than he can chew.” He grinned, practically elbowing Aurelio for a reaction.
Aurelio barely shifted, his lips curling into a wry, almost imperceptible smile. His tone was dry as toast when he replied, “Tell me, Luca. I’m desperate to hear your analysis.”
“Oh, it’s simple,” Luca declared, throwing his hands up theatrically. “If my ears didn’t deceive me, I’d say Massimo was not as in charge as he thought last night.”
“You’re not wrong,” Guilio added with a raised brow, his words clipped and sardonic. “There’s something to be said for humility, Massimo. You might try it.”
Luca leaned back with a laugh, letting it fill the space. “I swear, all of Chicago probably heard her last night, and yet I bet Massimo’s the only one who didn’t get the message.”
Guilio scoffed, the barest tilt of his head betraying humor. “He never listens. That’s his problem.”
“Exactly!” Luca crowed, clapping his hands. “Any God-fearing man would be terrified when a woman screams like that, but our dear brother here? He just acts as if nothing’s wrong. It’s impressive, in a suicidal kind of way.”
I forced myself to keep my gaze fixed on the world beyond the window, refusing to rise to their bait.
“Tell me, Massimo,” Guilio said gruffly. “After the dust settled, did she take your balls, or did you hand them over willingly?”
Luca and Aurelio burst into laughter, the tension in the vehicle barely thinning. I clenched my jaw, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me react. Instead, I smoothed my collar and waited for their amusement to pass, determined to hold on to what little dignity I had left.
The moment the SUV rolled to a stop, I slipped out into the biting wind, tugging my wool coat tighter around me.
My heart thudded as I ignored my brothers trailing behind and pushed through the warehouse doors.
Oscar and Milo were waiting inside, and in front of them sat two men—both visibly terrified, their bodies tense and rigid in metal chairs.
Oscar’s eyes flicked from me to the captives, his fingers tapping a frantic rhythm on the armrest. Milo stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, his stare cold and unwavering—ready but waiting for my lead.
The air felt thick with tension, and the metallic sting of fear was almost tangible.
The men kept their gazes glued to their laps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
I glanced at Milo and gave him a short nod, signaling him to speak. “Found these two bragging, boss,” Milo said quickly, his voice low and urgent.
I slid off my leather gloves, forcing myself to steady my breath. My mind raced with questions and suspicions, but I kept my tone even as I asked, “Do you know who I am?”
Both men slowly shook their heads, their voices stifled by fear.
“Do you know the men behind me?” I continued searching their faces for any flicker of defiance.
Again, they shook their heads.
“And the woman with me last night?”
This time, they exchanged wary glances.
Luca leaned against a metal shelf, smirking. “I think they’re mute, brother,” he sneered, eyes narrowed and fixed on the trembling men.
Guillo stepped closer, his expression darkly amused, his voice laced with menace. “Maybe we should educate them.”
I stepped forward, letting the silence settle. My pulse quickened, each heartbeat echoing in my ears. I fixed my gaze on the captives, feeling the weight of responsibility and threat hanging in the shadows around us.
“You have one chance,” I hissed, my voice calm but bristling with warning, “to tell me who ordered the hit.”
The men swallowed hard, their eyes darting nervously around the warehouse as if searching for mercy that would not be found.
I felt a flicker of pity, quickly snuffed out by the memory of what they had done.
When neither spoke, I reached inside my coat, fingers brushing the cold metal of my gun—a final warning, and a reminder that time was running out.
“Let’s try this again,” I said pointing it at the man in front of me.
“Whoa!” the man gasped, holding up his hands. “We don’t know anything. A dude called, wired us five grand and told us to kill the woman. That’s it!”
I stiffened but said nothing as Aurelio stepped forward and asked, “Who?”
The taller man—Bill, if I’d heard right—shifted his weight, eyes darting between us. “Like Bill said, we don’t know shit. Got a call five minutes before y’all exited the restaurant,” he muttered, sending a glare in my direction.
Guilio crossed his arms, voice hard. “Who do you work for?”
The second captive, a wiry guy with a crooked nose, spat on the ground and scoffed, his voice defiant. “No one. Me and Mikie ain’t nobody’s bitches.”
“That’s right, mister,” Mikie chimed in, attempting a cocky grin but failing as his voice trembled. He scratched his jaw, shifting his gaze to the floor. “Bill and me are just simple country boys looking to make our mark in the big city.”
“A minute, Massimo,” my brother Guilio leaned close and whispered. Nodding, I turned away from the hillbillies, rubbing the back of my neck.
“What the fuck is going on here, Guilio?” I muttered, looking back at the morons sniping at each other. “What the hell is Barbari up to?”
“How sure are you it was Barbari who ordered the hit?”
“He was there at the restaurant, Guilio. He left an hour before us. Plenty of time to make the call and wire the money.”
“During your investigation into Miranda, did you ever see her converse with anyone from Barbari’s crew?”
I shook my head. “No. Woman was either in class, the library or riding her bike. The only time she deviated from her schedule was to attend a gala or benefit with Thorpe. Something isn’t right here.”
“You got that right,” Guilio muttered, looking past me at the idiots. “She was the mark. Not you. But why?” Guilio frowned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like how easy it was to find them. If Barbari wanted you dead, he wouldn’t be so sloppy.”
My gut twisted with unease. “So what’s the play here? We keep these two alive until we know for sure?” The silence between us stretched, heavy with suspicion and doubt.
I caught a glimpse of Bill’s hands shaking, despite his earlier bravado, and Mikie’s eyes darted toward the door—like he was calculating odds that didn’t favor him. Something about their story felt rehearsed, but the stakes were too high to brush off even the smallest detail.
Guilio finally broke the silence, his voice low and cautious. “We need to dig deeper, Massimo. If those two are lying, we’ll know soon enough—but if they’re telling the truth, then we’re in the middle of something much bigger than a simple hit. Either way, we can’t let our guard down.”
I nodded, glancing one last time at Bill and Mikie. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. All we could do now was wait, watch, and try to stay one step ahead of whoever was pulling the strings.
“You’re right. We need more information,” I stated, shaking my head. “And the only way to get it is to put my wife front and center. It’s time to announce to the underworld that I’m off the market.”