“Another unfortunate plan of Vicente that I was unaware of.”
“It would seem you have less power over your families than you think you do,” Kaz snaps.
I cover his hand with my own, squeezing tightly. We can’t make this deal if we are dead.
“I can agree I was too generous with my confidence in some of my family members, but I assure you control and order has been reestablished.” His jaw works, as though he’s repositioning his teeth.
“Then, I don’t see any reason we can’t go forward with what’s been agreed to.”
“The vineyards and wineries in my possession will be sold to you. The properties under my name will also be sold.” I pause.
I haven’t talked to Kaz about this next part.
“But the family estate in New York will not be sold but rather turned into a home for abused women and children. My brothers’ estates in Chicago will be turned into places of rehabilitation for those overcoming drug addiction, special needs, and a school for the deaf and their families.”
“You’ve a soft heart,” Marco says with bitterness.
Kindness isn’t something to be admired in my family.
“The sale price of the estates, businesses, and properties is one hundred million euros.” Kaz flattens his hands on the tabletop.
I have to clench my jaw to keep it from falling to the floor.
Marco drags in a deep breath.
“We’re giving you a discount. On account you were once my wife’s family.”
Marco’s eyes cut to me. “Were? You’ll walk away from your family now?”
Kaz taps his fingers on the table.
“My family walked away from me. When my brothers were allowed to beat and torture me as I was growing up. When Vicente married me off to his enemy in order to keep me from finding out the truth about the estates. When it was proven over and over again women have no value in this family. I learned long ago, I don’t belong here. I am not one of you. Take the offer. If you say no, I’ll keep everything and my husband’s family will stretch their power across this island.”
Marco’s face reddens.
“I don’t believe the Russians and the Italians enjoy each other’s company much. I doubt the people of Palermo would be grateful to you for bringing them here.”
Kaz gets up, his chair scraping against the stone floor loudly. He helps me from my seat.
“We have a flight to catch. You will let us know your decision.”
Marco barks an order in Italian at one of his men who takes a step toward us. Kaz jerks around to face him, his hand on his gun settles on his side holster.
“I didn’t come for blood, but I don’t mind spilling it on my way out.”
Marco snaps his fingers, and the man backs down, his face contorted in anger. I recognize him as the man who stayed in my home in New York. The one who stood by Vicente’s side. The loyal lapdog apparently will sit for anyone holding his bone.
Kaz’s men fall in behind us as we make our way from the restaurant.
“Thank you,” I say when we’re in the back of the car driving to the airport.
He pulls me close to him. “For what?”
“Not killing everyone in there.”
He half smiles. “I won’t lie, I was hoping they’d give me a reason.”
I laugh. “If I remember right, the last thing Alexander said to us when we dropped Tommy off was not to start an international war.”
