“You know, you ever want to come out to Miller’s place, he throws these parties—”
I start laughing again. “Are you serious with this shit?Vaffanculo.”
And with that, things between us are back how they should be. Jacopo silenced, and me feeling that righteous anger toward him. I’ve held onto it for so long now, I don’t know what I’ll do when I fulfil it—when I pay him back and get vengeance for his killing of my lover, Renato.
We drive the rest of the way in silence, and when we arrive at Gene Lombardo’s office, which is situated in a quiet side street, I’m out of the car before the engine turns off.
“Wait up, will you?” he calls, jogging after me. “You want me to take a bullet for you, you need to give me a chance to take it.”
If there was anyone else in this Family I could trust, I would have them by my side now instead of Jacopo. Still, I slow down as we make our way through the doors and let him catch up. Better to present a united front to Lombardo, anyway.
At the reception desk, they scramble all over themselves as soon as they see me, offering coffee, water, baked goods. Jacopo and I are escorted personally by the head of security to the waiting room, where Lombardo’s legal secretary appears to ask again about our choice of food and drink.
“I didn’t come here for my appetite,” I tell her. “I came to speak to Lombardo. Get him. Now.”
She disappears, and Jacopo shakes his head at me.
I ignore him. I don’t have time to play these games with Lombardo, not today. The secretary returns and coldly asks us to follow her. At last we’re shown into his office, where he’s on the landline with someone, chuckling and nodding as though they can see him on the other end of the phone. He raises a hand in greeting, then a finger.Give me one minute.
Jacopo and I glance at each other.
“Yes, I hear that,” Lombardo is saying. “But they never send their best guy for these things; the judge’ll see it your way. I’ll make sure I—”
I pick up the phone and yank out the cord.
Lombardo’s mouth stays open, but the words dry up.
I turn to the secretary, still hovering in the door, her face a mask of shock. “I’ll take that coffee now,” I tell her.
“And one for me, while you’re at it,” Jacopo says, with a smile.
She bolts.
Lombardo has found his voice again, rising to his feet with a thunderous expression. “Sandro, I don’t know what you think—”
“I wonder if you would have treated my father with such disrespect.” I take a seat. Jacopo gestures for Lombardo to do the same, and the old man collapses back into his chair.
“My apologies, Don Castellani,” he murmurs. “How can I help?”
I don’t miss his sidelong glance at Jacopo, who has remained standing a little behind my chair. Whatever else Jacopo is, his reputation as an efficient killer is very useful, and I’m glad I brought him with me. “It has come to my attention that Lina Lamond wasnotin a relationship with my father when he died.”
I lay it out and watch Lombardo’s face, which to my mind shows only troubled confusion. “I swear to you, Don Castellani, I carried out your father’s wishes as I saw them. If he changed his mind, he didn’t tell me.” Eager to get back into my good graces, he asks, “Do you want me to remove Ms. Lamond from the house? Petition to reconsider the stipend—”
“Not yet. I need more information before I decide what to do. I’ll let you know.”
“Of course, sir.”
The secretary interrupts us then with the coffee, and although I don’t touch mine, Jacopo takes his and sucks it down as though he didn’t get enough sleep last night. I wonder if that lover of his kept him up, and then my mind drifts naturally back to Teddy, to the way he felt inside, the expression of wonder and delight on his face…
“There’s another matter I’d like to raise with you,” I say to Lombardo. “I want a report about your dinner last night with my mother.”
Lombardo hesitates, then leans in, dropping his voice. “If I could speak to youalone…”
I glance at Jacopo and lift my chin. He takes his coffee with him when he leaves. “Well?”
* * *
Jacopo is sitting on the side of the secretary’s desk when I leave Lombardo’s office, telling her jokes. She’s giggling, but stops when she sees me, and I walk past without a word to either of them.
