Because in the end, we’re no better than the Clemenzas, if that’s our approach.
I lever the handle with my elbow and kick open the door.
Caligula Clemenza is sitting up in bed, staring at me. “Finally,” he says with a scowl. “I know how we can get to Uncle Tony.”
I really thought I’d managed to clear my head today. But there it goes again, that haze in my mind whenever I lay eyes on him. I thought for a while it was just rage. The need for vengeance. I’m not so sure anymore.
“Eat this first,” I tell him. “Then you can tell me your brilliant plan.”
He smiles smugly. “Itisbrilliant. But it will require some assistance.”
I set the tray down on the bed and hand him a bowl of white bean soup. He takes it—eagerly, I note, since I guess the protein shakes I left with him weren’t exactly Rosa’s home cooking. He’s drunk them all, though, or at least, he’s left a pile of empty plastic containers littered on the nightstand.
“We need to do this alone,” I tell him, taking my own bowl. “For various fucking reasons.”
He eyes me, probably thinking about those reasons like I am. The most obvious: he’s a target. The most important: he’s my property, and I don’t need him thinking he’s anything more than that.
Then he smiles. “It’s alright, Dami. You’ve got the brawn. I’ve got the brain. All we need now are the right clothes.”
I squint at him, wondering if I heard that right.
But I must have, because he goes on, “And for that, we’ll need Lorenzo Benedetti.”
CHAPTER 31
CALIGULA
“I still don’t seewhy we need Benedetti,” Damiano says dubiously, once I’ve outlined my plan. It’s simple, really, despite its genius. There’s no way Uncle Tony is going to let me in to see him again. So I’ll double down on that, create a scene in the foyer, and make enough of a diversion that Dami can slip right by into the hallway that leads to the offices.
“Because you need to be invisible,” I tell him. “So you need to look the part.”
“I’ve got suits. I don’t need another one from Benedetti.”
I sigh. “Dami, just trust me on this one. I looked through your wardrobe?—”
“Youwhat?”
I try not to glare at him. “You leave me here all day alone, what do you think I’m going to do? I explored.”
He glares back. “You mean you stuck your nose where it don’t belong.”
“What’s behind that door?” I ask, seeing an opening. I point at the door across the room, the one with a fingerprint scanner like the one that lets Damiano down to the basement level of this creepy house. His glare continues. “Okay, look. Youdohave a few suits, Dami.” He has several off-rack, ten-year-old suits with shiny elbows—but I don’t expand, since he’s got that stubborn look on his face. “But you need something different to get into this legal firm. They’ll clock you from a mile away otherwise.”
He throws his silverware into his bowl and puts it back on the tray, brooding. “I don’t like this plan.”
I’m pretty sure I know why, too. We might as well get it out in the open. “You think I’m going to run if I get a chance.”
His immediate scowl tells me I hit the bullseye. I did wonder how he’d react to the idea of me having the slightest bit of agency. He’ll need to trust me to do my part, and then trust that I’ll willingly go back into my prison afterward.
“I’m not going to run,” I tell him.
“And I’m just supposed to take the word of a Clemenza?”
“I have noreasonto run,” I tell him coldly. “You’re currently my only protection, Orsini. Surely you haven’t forgotten that. You remind me of it often enough.”
He stands to prowl the room. Damiano is the kind of man who likes to be moving while he’s thinking. I’m the opposite. My brain is most active when my body is at rest. If he knew that, he’d probably mandate physical exercise all day, every day while I’m here.
“So I get into his office. Then what?” he asks at last.
