“We’re going to need a new underboss too,” Agessi says. “And I presume there’s been noconsigliereappointment made yet either?” Dario looks over at me.
“No. Vitto’s been dragging his heels for weeks.”
“A fresh new leadership team will work wonders for the territory,” Ben says. “Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.”
“Not if Dominic has made us a target for the cartel,” Cristian says, rubbing at his tired eyes. I’m guessing his son is still not sleeping well at night.
I wonder how much of Elio’s issues are connected to the trauma he experienced when he was only a few months old. Elio is Cruz’s son, and Cristian immediately stepped up and took responsibility for the child when he became an orphan. Cristian is one of the good guys, and he didn’t hesitate to make a lot of personal sacrifices to do right by the boy. He has only gone up in my estimation in the past year.
“We need to know what the cartel is planning,” Massimo says. “I don’t have a good feeling about it.”
“None of us do,” Pagano says.
“For now,” my buddy says, eyeballing me, “set up the surveillance on the Ferraros. Include the wife too.” I deserve an award for not even blinking.
“Do they have trackers?” Ben asks, reclaiming his seat and setting his coffee down on the table. Ben’s Caltimore Holdings company has developed next-level technology we use to safeguard our businesses and our men. A lot ofmafiosoin the US have tracking chips in their bodies that can pinpoint their location, and it’s come in more than handy over the years. However, we don’t enforce it. It’s left up to local territories to decide whether they are compulsory or optional.
“No, but I’ll get something put in their cars.”
“Stay away for a couple of weeks, but then I want you back there,” Massimo says. “We need someone trustworthy on the ground. If the cartel is involved and they’re planning something, we need to find out before we’re embroiled in another war.”
“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” I promise, hoping the things I’ve done haven’t made everything worse.
16
VALENTINA
I’m a prisoner. Granted, my cage is way nicer than my usual one, but I’m still trapped here, and my hope for escape is rapidly fading. I’ve explored every inch of Fiero’s home and grounds while he’s been gone today, and he has the place locked up damn tight. The dock might still be an option, but I’ll have to convince Fiero to take me out on his boat so I can figure out how to navigate it. If he plans to disappear on me every day, I don’t see how I can make that a reality.
Returning to the house after my exploration outside, I take a shower and make a sandwich before settling down with my phone to call my cousin and my siblings. Except I can’t because my cell has no coverage and it’s not letting me connect to the Wi-Fi. I’d use Fiero’s office if I could get into it, but I’m guessing it’s one of the two locked doors I discovered on my tour.
Frustrated and pissed off, I borrow some training clothes I find in one of the spare bedrooms—clothes I’m guessing belong to his sister—and then I take my frustration out in Fiero’s home gym, pounding the treadmill like a madwoman, only stopping when sweat coats my body like a second skin.
After showering and redressing in the borrowed tee and denim skirtand my own tennis shoes, which escaped the purge, I head into the kitchen, figuring I’ll bake something to keep myself occupied. It’s either that or raid Fiero’s wine cellar and drown my sorrows. It holds appeal. Imagining Fiero returning home to find me trashed and his wine stash missing a few expensive bottles is almost worth risking it. I’m sure he wouldn’t find it veryladylike, and I almost do it for that reason alone. Except I need to keep my guard up, and I’ve already decided it’s smarter to just play nice and keep him on board.
So, I’ll bake, and when he returns later, I’ll try to keep my anger on a leash.
His kitchen cabinets are well stocked, his refrigerator and freezer full of labeled home-cooked meals, and it’s obvious he has a housekeeper. Unless his mother and sisters get his groceries and cook for him, but I doubt it. After setting the ingredients for cupcakes on the counter, I pull out drawers in search of an apron when there’s a gentle knock on the door. My head whips up, and I’m instantly on guard when I find a guy dressed in black standing in the kitchen doorway. It’s the same guy who greeted us when we arrived last night.
“Sorry to disturb you, miss.” He glances briefly at the rings on my ring finger. “But I have some deliveries for you.”
I frown. “I didn’t order anything.”
His lips kick up at the corners ever so slightly. “The boss ordered them for you. I’ll have them brought into the living room.”
“Oh. Okay.” I blink several times as he walks away, wondering what’s going on.What is Fiero up to?
Heading out into the living room, I slam to a halt when I reach the entryway, my eyes almost bugging out of my head as I watch three armedsoldatitraipse in and out of the large homey room carrying boxes with the Rachel McConaughey brand stamped all over them. Fiero said he was going to replace my clothes, but I didn’t think he meantthis. I clutch the door frame as I watch them deposit box after box on the floor over the rug centered between three cream-colored leather couches. My heart crashes against my chest cavity when two clothes railsare wheeled into the room, each holding a ton of covered items on hangers.
The man from the kitchen returns, carrying a massive bouquet of red, purple, and pink roses and a shiny gold box. “The boss wanted me to give these to you personally. He’s been delayed longer than expected, but he’ll be home for dinner.” I stare at him in shock as I accept the flowers and the gold box in a bit of a daze.
“Um, thanks,” I murmur quietly.
He stares at me for a few seconds, looking like he wants to say something, but he just smiles and nods, and then they all walk off leaving me surrounded with the physical evidence of Fiero’s insanity.
I’m still in a daze as I bury my nose in the roses, inhaling deeply and sucking the heady scent into my lungs. On wobbly legs, I head toward the couch, maneuvering around boxes to flop onto the soft leather. Keeping the roses tucked into my chest, I examine the gold box. White Plains, handmade confectionary and chocolates is printed on the front, and the address is a Connecticut one.
Opening the box, I find the most perfectly crafted chocolates. Two layers with a mix of dark, milk, and white chocolates. Bringing the box to my nose, I sniff them, and a laugh bursts from my throat at the thought of any of Fiero’ssoldatiwatching me right now. I’m acting like a crazy person or a woman who has never received flowers or chocolates from a man before. I glance quickly over my shoulder, but I’m alone thankfully.
