I glance at him. “That’s besides the point. I want him to suffer. That’s part of my vengeance.”
“Maybe we should courier one of her real body parts to him?” Enrico suggests.
“I like the way you think,” Roberto comments.
“No need to put him in a killing mood,” Stefano interjects.
“He might be in a killing mood regardless,” Luciano mutters. “I certainly would be, if that were my daughter.”
Roberto grins widely. “Then all the more fun for us.” His eyes glint wolfishly.
“All right then,” Stefano says. “I’ll schedule trade for two days from now. But no farther.”
Stefano slides his gaze from left to right as if he’s taking in each of us in turn. “So, any other concerns before we end this meeting?”
“My original worry about this plan still stands,” Luciano says. “That the Rizzos will let the Amatos know they have her. I wouldn’t put it past them to gloat, or to try to sell her back to them.”
Stefano shrugs. “We’ve been over this before. If Giovanni is a no-show, we’ll just have to take him out another day. We still make five million Euros from the Rizzos. It’s also a form of immediate revenge, considering Giovanni loses his daughter.”
Enrico chuckles softly. “It’s so very ironic. Giovanni originally arranged for her to marry The Cleaver, and it was only our intervention that made him change his mind. And now she’s going to marry The Cleaver anyway. Revenge, sweet revenge. Eight years in the making. It’s good to finally get here. You must feel great, Massimo.”
“I’ll feel better when it’s finally over,” I tell him, and mean it.
“We can always do the trade tomorrow…” Stefano says hopefully.
I shake my head. “Let Giovanni stew.”
With that I bid my brothers farewell and the video screen goes dark.
Luciano doesn’t move from where he’s seated across from me. “What’s wrong, bro?”
I return his gaze cautiously. “What do you mean?”
“Something seems off about you,” he replies. “You’re distracted. It’s Angela, isn’t it? You never got over her. Should I be worried about the deal falling through?”
“I’m over her,” I say between gritted teeth. It’s pissing me off that he’d accuse me of betraying my brothers for a woman. It doesn’t matter if he’s not far from the mark.
“Have you fucked her yet?” Luciano asks.
I stare at him for a moment, then shake my head.
“Are you sure?” Luciano presses. “Because you’re acting like a man who’s obsessed.”
“Positive,” I say.
Luciano leans back. “Seems a shame to put such a beautiful woman to waste. What say I fuck her, then?”
I can barely see for the red haze that fills my vision then, and my face fills with heat. It’s all I can do to stop myself from leaping on my brother and walloping him with my fists.
“Ah ha,” Luciano says. “Caught you. I knew you’re not over her. It was pretty obvious when you got pissed at Enrico for calling her a ‘pussy.’” He sighs, then leans forward to look me in the eye. “Look, I don’t care if you still have feelings for her. I don’t even care if you’ve fucked her. What I do care about is the brother I love betraying his family for some plaything. Nine million Euros, bro. Nine million.”
The anger is still raging inside me. When he said the word ‘plaything,’ I almost snapped. But I manage to keep control. Yes, I’m definitely getting better at control.
He finishes his glass of Cristal, fetches the bottle, and stands. “Thought I’d be sharing this with you tonight. But I guess you’re not in the mood. I’ll leave it in the bar in case you change your mind.”
I don’t answer him, and when he leaves I flop back in my seat. The knots in my stomach unravel and I feel exhausted, like I’ve run a marathon. What do they call that? Adrenaline hangover.
One more day. That’s all the time I have left for her. Tonight, and tomorrow.
