“I said I would protect you,” he interrupted.“And I will.Which is why you’ll stay out of sight.”
The driver opened the door; my father turned away, already gone in every way that mattered.The slam of the car door echoed through the foyer, then the low growl of the engine carried him into the night.
I stood in the emptiness he left behind.
He was going to see Enrico Di Fiore.
Whatever storm Enrico unleashed last night was now rolling straight toward my door.
4
ENRICO
The mansion chosen for the meeting sat at the edge of the river.Two guards waited by the far wall, eyes blank, hands near their jackets.They belonged to Moretti.It was time for us to talk about the future.Whether he wanted me to or not, his daughter was going to be my wife.And it would be in both of our interests to keep the bloodshed to a minimum.
A long table divided the room.Footsteps.Then the double doors opened and Don Moretti entered.He appeared older than I remembered from the wedding, the silver at his temples catching the light like the edge of a blade.
“Signor Di Fiore.”
“Moretti.”
Politeness, brittle as glass.He didn’t sit until I did.A server poured coffee, the steam rising between us.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Moretti began, tone mild.“The Russo problem… resolved.”
“A temporary inconvenience,” I said.“Cleaned before sunrise.”
His mouth curved, almost approving.“You clean quickly.”
“Your efficiency left bodies with my signature on them.That attracts attention I can’t afford.”
“Attention is already here.Russo forced it.I only returned it to sender.”
He tapped one finger against the armrest—measured, precise.“And yet you come to me today, asking for peace.”
“Not peace,” I corrected.“Order.”
“Order,” he repeated, tasting the word.“That has a price.”
“Everything worth keeping does.”
Our eyes met, a brief collision of truth before it fractured back into diplomacy.He was thinking of territory, money, and leverage.I was thinking of something far rarer.
His gaze flicked involuntarily toward the corridor behind him.Just for a second.But I caught it.
He wasn’t afraid.Not yet.But the moment his eyes shifted, I knew whom he feared losing.
Moretti’s glance slid back to me, composure restored.“Safety doesn’t exist.Only balance.”
“And balance,” I answered, “is exactly what I’m offering.”
He gestured for me to continue, a small motion that cost him pride.
“Russo’s reach is wider than either of us thought.His people used the docks, your docks.If they move again, you’ll be dead before the week is out.I can stop that.I’ll place my men there—quiet, precise, loyal.”
He studied me.“Loyal to whom?”
“To survival,” I said.“Ours.Yours.”A pause.“Mine.”
