"Understood."
Piero added, "What about the families? After last night’s disaster at the anniversary celebration, they're watching. Waiting for you to make another mistake."
"Then I won't make one." I checked my watch again. "Giovanni wants a meeting in two hours. I'll deal with him first. Then we address the families."
"And Viktor?" Giulio asked.
"Viktor is a problem for tomorrow. Right now, we contain the immediate damage."
Everyone dispersed to their tasks. Paola and I headed to the elevator.
We drove to the Hamptons in tense silence. The sun rose—pink and gold streaking across the horizon, promising a beautiful day that felt like a mockery.
We'd been awake for over twenty-four hours. The anniversary celebration felt like a lifetime ago.
"Are you okay?" I broke the silence.
"I saved the sister who tried to destroy me. Broke into a rival Don's penthouse. Gambled our lives on a bluff." She stared out the window. "So no, I'm not okay."
Fair. "You were brave through it all."
"Or stupid."
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
A ghost of a smile. "Your family motto?"
"Should be."
More silence. Manhattan gave way to highways, then the manicured wealth of the Hamptons.
"What do you think my father wants?" Paola asked quietly.
"To save himself. That's all Giovanni has ever wanted. He has to know they’ll catch him in a lie eventually."
"Will you give him that? The ability to save face?"
I considered. "Depends on what he's willing to give in return."
"And if he gives nothing?"
"Then he becomes another enemy to manage."
The words hung heavy between us. Paola's relationship with her father was already destroyed. This meeting might bury it completely.
We passed through the Hamptons—wealth insulating itself from the world's ugliness. The Lombardo estate appeared ahead, imposing even in daylight.
We pulled up at 9:12 a.m.—twelve minutes late, but close enough.
The estate looked different in the early morning light. Tired, once we got closer. The gardens that had seemed elegant at thewedding reception now showed overgrowth at the edges. Money here, but fading. Old wealth clinging to relevance.
Giovanni needed this alliance more than he'd admitted. His empire was already crumbling.
I caught Paola eyeing the building distrustfully. “Do you miss it?” I asked, curious.
“This?” She glanced back at the opulent but overgrown gardens. “I never really knew this place. Or this part of him, I guess. We stayed with our mother until…” She shook her head. “He always had secrets. This place was one of them, I guess.”
A servant met us at the door—Maria, the older woman who'd been at the wedding. She'd aged ten years in six weeks.
