His dismissive attitude irritates me. “There’s no reason Carlo can’t defend me if we’re dating,” I say, and I can tell by the flicker of Luca’s eyelids that I’m coming close to a line. But I can’t stop myself. I’m pissed off and I’m stressed out and maybe I’ve been around Carlo too long, because I just keep talking. “Messina was screwing afederal agentand you were okay with that.”
“And if I had my time again, Iwouldn’tallow it—because look where it got him,” Luca snaps back, his eyebrows bunching together, dark and thunderous. “Where it gotme. Messina was an asset to me and now he’s gone. That’s exactly what I mean when I say I can’t afford to have anything else rocking the boat right now—” The rowboat had rocked hard in the black waves of the Atlantic, and more than once I feared I’d capsize before I made it out deep enough. “—andespeciallynot your dick. You said yourself it hadn’t been going on long between the two of you. I’m not asking you to give him up forever. Just until we’ve dealt with the Irish and the rest of the bullshit piling up around us.”
It makes sense. It’s logical. And he clearly doesn’t like having to ask it of me. But it doesn’t stop my anger and bitterness. “So every other asshole in this Family gets his happy ending except me, huh?”
Luca sits back in his chair, calm and controlled. “Are you telling me no, Fontana? Are you telling your Don that you won’t obey an order?”
Jesus, I’ve fucked this all up beyond my wildest dreams. “Of course not,” I spit out. “But he needs protection.”
“Thengivehim protection.” For a moment, my heart expands and I can breathe again. “Assign your best men to him. But you? You stay away from him unless you need legal representation. The next few months will be crucial for the Family.Youwill be crucial for the Family. I want your focus.”
IneedCarlo with me. He’s the only one who can help me figure out what’s going on, and right now I don’t trust anyone else to keep him safe. I can’t be seen to disobey a direct order, but we still have our cover story, so I play that card. “Bianchi’s still dismantling this case the cops have on me right now. It’s tricky. We need to work together on it.”
“Christ, Fontana. Thenworktogether, but cut out the overnights. Stash him in one of the safe houses when you don’t need him.” He spreads his hands, a silent plea for understanding. “I wouldn’t ask it of you unless I had to, Nick. And it won’t be forever.”
He’s a fucking liar, and we both know it. This Irish business has been dragging on, and willkeepdragging on. Even when it’s over, there’ll be another problem, and another, and another, because if I make Underboss, I’ll only have more heat at my back. And clearly Luca thinks Carlo Bianchi is the only one capable of shielding me from it, and he doesn’t think Carlo Bianchi can do that job if he’s personally involved.
But what else can I say? “Yes, Don Morelli.”
He waits a beat and then, back to business, asks, “And how’s the Gatti situation going?”
I swallow hard. I’d almost forgotten he asked me to look into it. “I’m still digging.”
“I thought that might be why you were here. Some kind of update.” He pauses, waits for me to speak, but I say nothing. “Is there something else you wanted to talk about?”
I hold his gaze for a full five seconds before I make up my mind. “Nope. Nothing else.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Carlo
Idon’t realize I’ve been left behind like a delinquent child dropped off at day care until half an hour has passed and Finch D’Amato finally joins me in the room he put me in to wait. By that time, Aidan O’Leary has arrived for the discussion, Tara Donovan is on her way to the townhouse from her hotel, and I actuallydoneed to go over the papers with Aidan and Finch before she gets here.
“I’ll get Hudson to make more coffee,” Finch says with a yawn when he wanders in, finally dressed. Aidan has been making small talk, thanking me for the pro bono hours I’m putting in, and I was so close to telling him I’m only doing this on my damn father’s orders that I’m relieved at Finch’s arrival. I’m on tenterhooks, waiting for the fallout from Nick telling Luca what’s going on, but all has been silent upstairs. “Maybe tell Hudson to send some more up to the Boss and Fontana, too,” I say, desperate to find a way in to ask what’s going on.
Finch snorts. “Did you work in hospitality to put yourself through law school or something? Nice thought, Carlo, but Nick left a while back. You sure you don’t want a sandwich before Tara arrives?”
“I’m not hungry.” My stomach’s tumbling around inside me like I was a human washing machine. “When—when did he leave?”
“Nick? Was he your ride or something? We can get one of the house guards to drop you back if—”
“No need.” Luca D’Amato appears in the room like an apparition, and I jump. The way he’s looking at me makes me wish I could dive under the damn coffee table. “Nick is arranging some special protection for Carlo, here.”
Finch turns to me with a look that mingles concern, surprise and a love of drama. “You never said shit was going down. What gives?”
“Nothinggives,” I say, a little snappier than I should be with a client. “And I don’t need protection.” I look to Luca in appeal, but he is unwavering. “Come on, Boss, whatever Nick said—”
“It’s not just Nick who wants you protected. The Family needs you safe and well and able to attend to our needs.”
Fuck the Family. The mutinous glare I give gets my message across loud and clear, judging by the way Finch’s eyes widen. But Luca stays cool and unmoved.
“And your father asked about it, too,” he says.
“Myfather?”
“Your father called me last night to explain the situation. I agreed with him that of course you need protection while the break-in to your apartment is investigated, and that of course we’d be delighted to provide it.” The way Luca’s watching me, I feel the need to keep my reactions extra-guarded. But it’s hard to hide my shock at what he’s saying. My father? Who literally fired someone because they borrowed a pen one time from a Morelli to take notes on their alibi? My father called up Don Morelli and requested Mob protection forme?
“No way.”
