But if either piece of information surfaces, every alliance I’ve built will shatter.
The Sicilians will move against me immediately.
The Neapolitans will sever all ties.
My organization will collapse from the inside, and I'll be dead before the new year arrives.
"I'll handle it," I say.
"You understand my position now," Kemal says. "Merry Christmas."
The line goes dead and I set the phone down and close the ledger in front of me.
The clock on the wall shows eight thirty.
I stand and walk to the window only to be irritated by the gaudy display of "Christmas Spirit", or so my housekeeper calls it.
Marta had my men string flashing lights everywhere in the garden.
And if it wasn’t bad enough outdoors, she's started inside too.
The whole thing grates on my nerves and I find myself even more annoyed now that I have six weeks to answer Kemal's warnings or find myself in over my head.
A sharp knock interrupts my thoughts and I turn as Rico opens the door without waiting for permission.
His expression tells me something's gone wrong.
"We have a situation at the gate," he says.
Curiosity piqued, I move past him into the hallway. "What kind of situation?" If it were some sort of attack or breach, he'd have led with that.
But calling this a "situation" means it's not emergent, but important.
"A delivery, sir, but not your normal shipment. Two people dropped off by a van that barely stopped—a woman and a child. The woman's handcuffed. There's a note pinned to her jacket."
I walk faster, now even more curious.
Who sends a woman and a child to my doorstep as a package?
And what on earth could it mean?
We descend the staircase and cross the main hall toward the entrance.
My guards have already brought them inside by the time I arrive.
Two figures stand near the door.
Enzo and Luca flank them on either side with guarded stances like they’re going to jump out and kill someone, but they look frightened.
The child is crying softly, sniffling.
Her dark hair is stringy and dirty, like she hasn't bathed in a few days, and her cheeks are grubby with dirt and tear stains.
She looks familiar to me, but I can't put my finger on it.
So much so, in fact, that I can't tear my eyes away from her face for a second, and when I finally do, I'm shocked.
Angelica.
