But I also know that some will be true.
“Why do people send you these tips?” I ask, as Teddy is scrawling down his login information with a scowl.
He throws the pen down huffily. “Sometimes so I can try to get photos. Sometimes to brag. Sometimes just for the internet points.”
“These people need to get lives,” I mutter under my breath. I look down at him. “This is what you were doing the other night? Getting video of me to put on your silly little website? You were right, before. Thisisdangerous.” The defiance is still in him as he glares back at me. I slap down the laptop and he snatches his fingers away. “Why do you run this site?”
He says nothing.
“Get up,” I sigh. “There is more we need to discuss.”
I seat him on the lounge in my living area and leave him there to make a few phone calls from my bedroom. We have a large shipment arriving today and I want to make sure the Bernardis are playing nicely at the docks. But even as I take in the update from Legs Liggari, the Capo who currently has jurisdiction over the docks, my mind is working over this Teddy Problem.
When I’m done and return to the room, he is sitting as I left him, pale now where he was pink before. He meets my eyes, but cautiously.
There is something I have noticed about him: he does not shy away from looking into my face. Most people try not to look directly at me.
“Who are you?” I ask him.
“I-I told you my name.”
“Yes.” I pull over a chair and sit in front of him, quite close, leaning forward as he shrinks back. “And you have some very convincing evidence that you run a website, and that you are some innocent little naïf who would not say boo. But that does not tell me who youare.” The robe is falling open further, and I cannot stop my eyes as they dart down his chest. Is he naked under there? He must be. He left all his clothes in a heap on my bathroom floor. “I know you’re working for someone. Tell me who sent you, and I’ll set you free. You have my word on that. In fact, I’d like you to take them a message from me.”
His hands, balled up in his lap, squeeze even harder, but he says nothing.
An alert on my phone sounds, making him jump. I try not to let my irritation show as I check it, and have to stifle my curse. “I have a meeting,topolino.” He relaxes, until I say, “Which means you must be put back into your hole for a while.”
He reaches out, grabs my wrist desperately. “Pleasedon’t. It’s—it’s so awful down there, Ican’t—I’ll be good. Let me stay up here, and I’ll be good, I promise.”
The breathless fluttery begging strikes straight to my gut, rousing instincts that are better left sleeping. But it’s too late. I’m already picturing him on his knees for me, the pink cheeks and wide mouth as he opens for me, begging not for his freedom, but for—
I yank my wrist from his grasp and stand. “Don’t try to bargain with me. You have nothing I need.” I pull him up, but it’s hard to miss the glassy sheen in his eyes and the rapid blinking. “There’s no need to cry,” I tell him. “I still have questions for you.Aboutyou. Once I’ve dealt with this matter, I’ll send for you again.”
He actually seems relieved by the idea.
He should not be relieved; he should be terrified.
I’ll have to work on that.
CHAPTER11
SANDRO
I send Teddy,still in my own robe, away with Wilson, and then I go downstairs. I forgot about this meeting, but it cannot be avoided. Since my father’s death—only forty-eight hours ago, but it feels so much longer—the senior administration of the Family has been expecting regular updates in my search to find the killer. To get them off my back, I told them to come over today, before lunch.
Unbeknownst to the four of them, I have had Jacopo looking intothem. Once I know whom I can and cannot trust—once I’ve taken my rightful place as head of the Family—there will be some downsizing.
The administration has been around for decades, fat cats now who have little to offer me. They had little to offer my father, in fact, except a lack of opposition to any moves he wanted to make.
I want to run things differently. My mother’s words come back to me often:a man will drown in a sea of Yes.I want an administration that is prepared to say no to me, to argue with me, to strengthen my understanding instead of simply agree with it.
But for now, the administration stays the same.
I go to the salon to greet them, wondering again which of them—if any—are involved. It would have been easy for any of them to gain unknown access to the house the day my father died. Their visits are not tracked, were always kept secret, even from me. It would have been easier still for one of them to order a hit to be carried out by one of our house guards, if they’d turned them with the offer of money or status.
“Gentlemen,” I greet them with a nod. “Shall we?”
I lead the way to my father’s study. I make sure each of them sees the stained desk. I’ve decided I quite like the symbolic effect of it.
