"Nico Sartori."
"Well, Nico Sartori." I hold his gaze. "As I said, my father isn't feeling well. If you could tell me what this is regarding, I'm sure we can arrange a more convenient time to?—"
"There won't be a more convenient time." Nico's voice is flat. "Your father owes a significant debt to people who are running out of patience. We're here to discuss options before those people decide to collect in other ways."
The words land like stones in my chest.
Debt. Of course. Always debt.
I keep my smile fixed, but something must show in my eyes because Lorenzo steps forward, placing himself slightly between me and his brother.
"What Nico means," Lorenzo says, his tone gentler, "is that we may be able to help. But we need to speak with Eraldo directly."
Help. Right.
The Sartoris don't help anyone out of the goodness of their hearts. Whatever they're offering comes with strings attached. Chains, more likely.
But what choice do I have?
I step back from the doorway. "Follow me."
Bruno
Pietro stands by the window, phone pressed to his ear. He's been talking for the past ten minutes, his voice low and controlled.
I wheel myself closer to the fireplace. The flames cast shadows across the study walls, dancing over the spines of books our father collected. Books none of us ever read.
Pietro ends the call and slides the phone into his pocket.
"Nico and Lorenzo are at the Romano house now." He turns to face me. "Liam and Dante went with them."
I nod. Four men for a debt collection. That's not a conversation.
"How much does he owe?"
Pietro's jaw tightens. "Two million."
I let out a low whistle. "Two million. To us?"
"To us. To the Morellis. To anyone stupid enough to extend him credit." Pietro crosses to the bar cart and pours himself adrink. "The man's been hemorrhaging money at every table in the city for the past two years."
Two million dollars. That's not a gambling problem. That's a death sentence.
"Why is he still breathing?"
Pietro takes a long sip before answering. "Papa respected the Romanos. Back when the old man was alive, they were allies. Good ones." He sets the glass down. "And Lorenzo insisted on giving Eraldo time. He thought the man might pull himself together after his wife died."
"And?"
"And he didn't." Pietro's voice hardens. "He got worse. The time Lorenzo bought him ran out three months ago. We've been carrying the debt since then, but the Morellis are getting impatient. They want their money or they want blood."
I drum my fingers on the armrest of my chair. "So tonight is the deadline."
"Tonight is the last chance." Pietro meets my eyes. "If they can't make an arrangement, Eraldo Romano ends up dead by morning. Either we do it, or the Morellis do. And if the Morellis do it, they'll take everything. The house. The business. The family."
The family.
I think about what that means. Eraldo has children. I remember hearing about them years ago, at some gathering or another. A son. Daughters. Kids who probably had nothing to do with their father's choices.
