"Don Savastano, I did everything you ever asked me to," I say. "Everything. Not to mention, you gave me your word.”
"You misunderstood," the Don says. "I want to give you the names now."
My heart squeezes in my chest.
This is it. I’ve waitedyearsfor this moment.
But it feels too easy. Nothing’s ever this simple. Not in my world.
“I’ve always admired your ability to do research,” he continues. “I don't know how you do it, but you seem to know everything about everyone. You notice minute details that others often miss. This is why I have one final task for you."
"Okay," I say cautiously.
“Find the missingCosa Nostraprincess," he says. "Give me her location, and I'll give you the names of your parents’ killers.”
A few years ago, theCosa NostraDon's daughter disappeared at sea. She was never seen or heard from again. Most assume that she's dead, but my boss clearly thinks she's still out there.
"How are you so sure I'll find her?" I ask. "Even her own family hasn't figured out where she is, and it’s been years.”
"I know what you're capable of, Dante," he says. "If anyone can find her, it's you."
Enzo has been my best-kept secret. My boss doesn't know about his existence. He doesn't know that Enzo has been working behind the scenes with me for all these years. And I want to keep it that way.
"Can I ask what you plan on doing with the girl?"
His lips curl into a slow smile.
"I'm going to have some fun with her," he replies.
That could mean a hundred different things. I never know with my Don.
I've done some despicable things before, but never to women. If I agree to this, I’ll be crossing a line I’ve never crossed before. But I don’t have a choice. Once my Don decides he wants something done, he has ways of persuading people to do his bidding.
"Okay," I say. "I'll find her."
"You have a week," he tells me.
I stare at him. He wants me to find her in days when her own family hasn't seen her in years.
“Is that a problem?” He raises his eyebrows.
“No,” I say. “Not a problem.”
“Excellent.” He beams at me, back to his charismatic self.
He finishes the rest of his meal and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
This man has no qualms about using me to do his bidding. Maybe I should take a page from his book.
“Have you ever heard of Skylink?” I ask him.
Grace perks up when she hears that. We've been conversing in Italian, but she recognizes the word from earlier today.
“The messaging platform?” he asks.
“Is that what it is?” I say.
"Yes, it's similar to WhatsApp, but more secure," he says. "It's used only by people with something to hide. Why do you ask?"
