“Understood,” Enzo said a bit stiffly. He was pissed and, if truth be told, a bit hurt that the old man hadn’t even hesitated to throw him under the bus. “I should warn you, though, I will not go quietly. Rocco needs to stay out of my way, or it won’t be pretty.”
It was the old man’s turn to stay quiet. Finally, he said, “Understood.” Then, “You should have killed Vitale when you had the chance.”
“You have no idea how much I regret that decision.” He didn’t bother to add that his not killing Vitale had helped Massimo and Rocco. Enzo weighed his next statement but decided they were at the point of no return. “You need to think about Rocco’s end goal here.”
“What?” Massimo said sharply. “What are you talking about? His end goal is to get Bianca back?—”
“And lay the blame at my feet so he can kill me with no backlash. But have you thought about what happens if Bianca dies?”
The old man drew in a harsh breath and then made a gurgling sound. “Stronzo,” he started, followed by a number of curses, each one more colorful than the last. “How could you suggest that? You think Rocco would kill his sister? You?—”
Enzo had had enough. The resentment of years of biting his tongue and being treated as lesser in public came to the surface, and the dam broke. “Yes, I do, and so do you. It’s what you’re really worried about. It’s why you took my call. If you were really with Rocco, you wouldn’t talk to me. You and everyone else would roll down the gates, and I would be shunned. I have no doubts some will do that, but you’re talking to me because you want my help. You know that Rocco will kill Bianca and blame me because then he has you all to himself, and he never has to worry about anyone undercutting him again. Your grandson is a paranoid weakling, and you know it. His jealousy and angerdrive every decision. It makes him a shitty leader and a worse grandson.”
Enzo braced himself for the verbal thrashing that he was certain was about to come, but the old man remained silent. Just the sound of his ragged breathing came down the line.
Finally, Enzo said, “Massimo?”
“Enzo…you must save Bianca. I’m begging you. I cannot help you. My hands are tied, but please save her. I…know I shouldn’t ask, but please, for me. You have always been like a son to me, my true son. I cannot fix things, but I need your help to save her. Please. For me,” he said again, and then the line went dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kathleen stared at Enzo. “Wait, we’re going out? I thought it was too dangerous for us to leave.”
She’d gone to her room after his big reveal and tried several meditation techniques to calm herself down. Unsuccessfully, she might add. How the ever-living fuck had she gotten herself involved with the mob again? Seriously?! She just couldn’t believe it. It was like the gods were laughing at her. She battled an overwhelming urge to destroy something delicate, or smash her fist into something, preferably her brother’s face.
It was all his fault, she reasoned. He’d sent Enzo to keep an eye on her. She was under no illusions that he was unaware of Enzo’s occupation. Hell, he’d probably used Enzo’s connections when he needed to. In fact, he’d probably done that to help Kathleen when she was trying to get Connor back. Shit. That sucked some of the wind out of her sails.
Still, she reasoned, Jamie hadn’t needed to send anyone, let alone a mobster. Former mobster, if he were to be believed. But why should she trust him? Once in the mob, always in the mob.
No, she had planned to remain hidden in her room until such time as Jamie could come get her, or she could figure a way out.And then she’d gotten hungry, and Aldo said he would bring her a salad, but had not reappeared. Hunger finally got the best of her, and she’d come downstairs only to nearly collide with Enzo in the foyer.
“Yes, we’re going out for lunch.”
“What the hell?” She stared at him. “Did something happen? Why all of a sudden are we going out for lunch? What about Vitale?”
“It’s precisely because of Vitale that we’re going out for lunch.”
His gaze raked over her, and suddenly she was very conscious of her long white skirt with a high slit and green tank top that clung to her boobs in just the right way to show them off without being obvious about it. She’d put it on this morning when she hadn’t known Enzo was a mobster. When she still thought he was sexy as hell and that she was leaving town. Hell, she’d even kissed him and had enjoyed it immensely.
Heat filled her cheeks as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”
“Is that Loro Piana?”
“What?” she asked again, truly puzzled by his question about a fashion designer. At least, that’s what she thought he was asking.
“No matter,” he commented. “Just be ready to go in about ten minutes. I will explain everything once we’re out.” He frowned. “You didn’t unpack, did you?”
“What?” she asked for the third time and then felt like an idiot. Things were happening too fast, and she wasn’t getting details. “No, I didn’t unpack. What the hell is going on?”
“Okay, good.” He ignored her demand for a clue about this sudden shift in strategy. “I’ll be down in a few minutes, and then we’re off to lunch.” With that, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and then sprinted up the stairs.
She stared after him. “What the hell?” she muttered.
Danny entered the foyer, and she immediately returned to her original question, still sounding like the village idiot. “What’s going on?” she asked him.
He merely nodded at her and then spoke in Italian. She blinked, thinking he was talking to her, until she noticed he wore an earbud. He moved through the foyer, heading toward Enzo’s office. Kathleen sighed and then turned and moved toward the kitchen.
“Signora, I am sorry about your salad, but Signor Valardi informed me your plans had changed. Perhaps next time you are here, I can take you on a tour of the garden.”
