“And how will you even know it’s me?”
“Oh, believe me. I’ll know.”
I don’t like his sardonic tone. “Your husband murdered my grandfather during peace talks,” I say coldly. “So you’ll forgive me if I don’t like the idea of being besties with either of you.”
“You’ve got a real bee in your bonnet over that, don’t you? They weren’t peace talks, Cal, whatever your gramps might’ve told you. The New York Commission had already gotten together and decided he had to go. He was a loose cannon, and he was liable to go off at the wrong time. When he came to dinner that night, it wasn’t to negotiate. It was a diplomatic way to accept his resignation. The whole Commission had agreed to it.Hehad agreed to it. And right in the middle of things, he tried to kill Luca.”
I scoff, as though the very idea is ridiculous.
The truth is, it was obvious Nonno Lou was bullshitting when he announced he was going to talk peace over dinner with Don Morelli. The Commission’s decision had been unanimous, and we all knew about it. Even me—because when he first heard the news, Nonno Lou was so angry about it that I heard him clear on the other side of the townhouse.
But Mafia politics are delicate. And I have to play for the team I’m on. “I don’t believe you,” I tell Finch. “And I see no reason to trust you enough to take this phone. For all I know, it’s bugged.”
“Then get yourboyfriendto debug it,” he says impatiently. “And think about what I’m offering. You aren’t a stupid person, so why are you making stupid decisions?”
Of course I’m going to take the damn phone. I’mnotstupid. But I also want to save face while doing it, and I’m not going to let the D’Amatos think I’m an easy target. “I have no reason at all totrust you and your husband. Give me one good reason, and I’ll take the phone.”
Finch stares at me for a moment. “You are an aggravating little shit, you know that?”
“I’ve been informed,” I tell him coolly. “Can you give me a reason or not?”
This time when Finch D’Amato smiles, it has none of the charm it previously had. “You said my husband’s word was worthless,” he points out. “But perhaps you’ll take mine, if I prove to you that I’m telling the truth. So I’ll tell you a truth that no one else knows, Caligula Clemenza.” He crooks his finger, motioning me closer, and I lean in despite myself.
Even with his mouth right next to my ear, he drops his voice. “Luca didn’t kill your gramps. I did.” I jerk back involuntarily, but he grabs me by the arm, keeping me where I am. “Your grandfather tried to kill my husband, so I emptied a clip into him. And I’d do it again, Cal. I’ll do it to you, too, if you try to come for Luca.”
He lets go of my arm and I pull away, staring at him, seeing nothing but truth in his face. But…why? Why tell me at all?
“Now you know you can trust me to keep my word,” Finch says calmly. “So be smart. Take the phone.”
There are so many implications to what he’s told me that I’m still turning them over in my mind, and I don’t have it in me right now to be outraged at his confession. I grab the phone from his hand. “And if I spill your secret?”
He grins. “Who’s gonna believe little old me killed the big bad Lou Clemenza?”
He has a point. And I’d rather not tarnish my grandfather’s reputation any more than he tarnished it himself. “Any other wisdom you feel inspired to impart?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t forget Loverboy hastwochains around his neck, and you’re not holding one of them.”
I understand his meaning. The Giuliano Boss holds the end of that other chain. It’s not a comforting thought.
“Come on, then,” Finch says, when I don’t respond. “Time to hand you over to your fate. Unless you’ve had a change of heart? No? Oh well. I’ve done all I can.”
“Wait,” I blurt out, as he makes for the door. He turns back, eyebrows raised. “Doyouknow who’s been killing off my Family?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Luca is on it, though.”
“And he’s done such a marvelous job so far,” I say before I can stop myself.
But Finch just smirks. “You got some big brass balls on you, Cal,” he says, before opening the door and stepping out. “Maybe tuck ’em away tight for now, though. You still need to learn a few tricks.”
I follow him back to the main warehouse. When I see D’Amato again, I look at him differently. Not at the man who killed my grandfather, but at the man whose husband did it for him. Whose husband would do it again without a moment’s hesitation, not for power, but for love.
I’m not sure which of the two of them is more frightening.
Conversations have been going on without us. “…don’t need a fuckin’ escort. I’ll call my driver,” Damiano is growling.
But Luca D’Amato is immovable. “Fontana will take you,” he says with the kind of finality that suggests he’s already said it several times.
“I can’twaitto get home,” I chirp to Damiano, just to see him try not to glare at me.
