“Not yet. I was focused on making sure your location was locked down,” Luca answered with an annoyed grunt. “I handled it myself, and no one else knows where you and Mattie are.”
“I trust you, Luca.” That wasn’t the problem at all. It was clear that someone who knew the inner workings of my organization was talking out of turn. “You think this was the Russians?”
“Seems highly fucking likely,” he grumbled. “I guess we’ll see if they try to hone in on our territory while we get the fish shit settled.”
I could almost imagine him scrubbing a hand over his face. “Get some product moved up to whoever needs it in the area to make sure there’s no fucking void for them to fill.”
“Will do.” Luca paused and then asked what we were both thinking. “Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t want to think it’s anyone, but because I’m not there, I can’t fucking say for sure.” I had my suspicions, though. “Who do you think it is?”
Luca laughed. “You know I won’t say until I have proof, but yeah, I have a name or two in mind.” Despite our decades-long friendship, Luca would never speak against a DeRossi without evidence to back it up. “As soon as I confirm it, you’ll be the first to know.”
I nodded because I knew that. “I just keep thinking about that question Ren asked me. What does threatening a child accomplish? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it because it’s an anomaly.”
“The Russians kidnap people all the time.”
“Yeah, but they justdoit; they don’t threaten to do it. And they haven’t asked for anything in exchange for leaving Mattie or Ella alone. Why?” The bombing made sense, a lot of fucking sense. They wanted to hurt our distribution so they could move in and take our salesmen. That would put a dent in our bottom line—not enough to take us down but enough to annoy the fuck out of me.
“They want to create panic so they can slide in and corner our market. That shit makes sense; threatening Mattie doesn’t.”
“Exactly,” I said, a little too excited that we were on the same wavelength. “The processing plant makes sense; it was a good business strategy. Threatening my son does not.” If anything, it would piss me off enough to go after the asshole in charge, not his little henchmen.
“Yeah, I see where you’re going with this, Enzo. I’m on it.”
“Thanks, Luca. And look into everyone. Dig deep. I don’t want any assumptions; I just want to know who the fuck is compromised.”
“Understood.”
I ended the call quickly, chest pounding because I knew this was a mystery that wouldn’t have a happy ending for someone, and I was fine with that. In this business, there were very rarely happy endings. One side inevitably lost—the battle or the war, sometimes both—and that was just the nature of the beast. I couldn’t say what would happen with the Russians, but whoever was threatening my son would find themselves without a fucking pulse very soon.
Outside the window, Matteo’s laughter bounced off the trees and carried on the breeze, drawing me closer to the window. To their happiness. My son stared at Ren like she was the love of his life, his smile bright and his eyes clear and filled with joy. And Ren? She was soft and genuine, so loving as she gave him her full attention.
They looked like a picture from a life that only existed in my mind.
I’d given up that life for family.
More accurately, for The Family.
Because it was family first, right?
Except now I had to look a little deeper at my own fucking family.
There was Aunt Valentina. She was old school, believed in all that shit like blood, order, and family hierarchy. She’d been furious when my father planned to let me walk away from the family business, convinced birthright mattered even more than choice. She had supported me fully when I stepped in, called it “destiny correcting itself.” She was still a supporter and a sounding board.
She would die before betraying the family.
Her daughter, Luisa, was a college professor on the East Coast. She ran in academic circles, visited history conferences, and spent her time researching Victorian economic history or some shit. She only visited the family on holidays or when wegathered for weddings and funerals. She was always polite and always distant. Her life was completely separate from the family. Intentionally far removed.
The way mine was supposed to be.
Valentina’s husband, Dante, was half-senile, forgetting his name more days than not. He lived in a luxury care home that overlooked the ocean in Malibu, guarded more by nurses than loyalty. He wasn’t a concern.
Which narrowed the field considerably.
There was David, my cousin. He was an accountant who spent his days buried under numbers, spreadsheets, and ambition that didn’t match his work ethic. He’d never shown any real interest in the family business other than occasionally throwing his opinion out during family dinners, which no one ever took too seriously. He’d never wanted leadership, only the benefits he received because he was born a DeRossi.
Lena, David’s ex-wife, was a wild card. She was sharp and bitter, but none of that mattered unless she knew more about the business than she should. And the only way that would happen was if David knew more than he should. She hated David but still maintained a good relationship with Valentina, which still put her in the category ofpotential threat.
