My father would have known exactly what to do. But I'm not my father, a fact everyone seems eager to remind me of lately.
I should have been smarter. Stronger. Should have anticipated this instead of letting myself get distracted by Isabella's beauty, her wit, her body...
Fuck.
The worst part is that I still can't figure out whether she's part of it. When I look into her eyes, I want to believe she's innocent. Why the fuck do I care about that so much? Never before have I cared what anyone thought except for my father. Maybe Adriano.
I pour another drink, this one larger than the first. For now, I need to let Marco think he has the upper hand. I need to rebuild what was lost while watching for his next move. I need to determine whether the woman sleeping in my bed will lead me to ruin.
I stare at the latest reports until the numbers blur together and Antonio, one of my underbosses, enters with coffee and a bag of donuts.
“Have you slept at all, Boss?”
“No. Have you any news?” I take the coffee, wondering how long before I get an ulcer from living on booze, black coffee, and donuts.
“Well, we’ve secured the remaining warehouses and moved product through alternative channels.”
“Good.”
“Leo has been burning the midnight oil going over the security footage. Nothing to link the Vitales, but we did pick up two low levels from the Marchini family.”
Like Luca thought. “Any chance Marchini is working with Vitale?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Seems unlikely, unless the son is. That fucker is getting fuller and fuller of himself.”
Enrico. I’d like to wipe him from the earth along with Marco.
“Any concerns from the men?”
Antonio shakes his head. “Everyone wants to find these fuckers as bad as you.”
I might not be as strong as my father once was, but I’ve rid my house of spies and now have a crew that works hard without complaint, without faltering.
These men have stood by me through my father's death, through the war with the Bratva, and now through this latest attack. They've pledged their lives to the Dante name. To me.
I owe them a show of gratitude.
“Let captains and their lieutenants know I’m having a gathering tonight. Nothing formal. Food and drink. My thank you for a job well done.”
Antonio raises an eyebrow. "Tonight, Boss?"
"Tonight. These men have earned it.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll let them know.”
When he leaves, I call Isabella. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in days. She probably thinks I’m avoiding her.
“Hello?” she says tentatively when she picks up.
"I need your help," I say without preamble and then wince at not saying hello or asking how she is.
"With what?"
I explain about the gathering. "These men have been loyal. I want to show my appreciation."
"Of course," she says, sounding more like a dutiful wife than a woman eager to please her husband and his men. "I'll handle everything."
"Thank you."
