The scariest part of all this is that I believe him.
Chapter 28
Connor
I could’ve sat with a half-naked Cat on top of me all night, but we both knew that wouldn’t solve anything.
Not the Nino problem or the bigger issue of the Riccis losing their true leader.
Plus, her father’s funeral is coming up.
I have no clue how to approach her about Nino murdering Eduardo, but my gut insists he’s our guy.
Still, I can’t just throw that revelation at her feet. Hearing your brother killed your father without unequivocal evidence is no easy pill to swallow. Because I can’t lose her, I’ll have to prove this to her.
I’m outside Café Castellane, an Italian restaurant that serves as a cover for a bunch of Ricci meetings. Nino’s home away from home.
I saw him pull up in his ruby Macan, followed by eight capos and enforcers.
Back when I was Dane Ryder, I got to know his schedule pretty well. I had always planned on approaching Caterina, but I did my homework on Emiliano Ricci too. Just in case.
After the boys’ club, which consistently lets out before six, Nino stays for a meal, usually dining alone. I watched himbetween the holidays a few weeks back. He’s so self-absorbed, he didn’t even notice that I was the only other man dining solo.
Nino’s been running the Ricci family since Eduardo went on bedrest months ago, and he requires a little solitude to fuel the tank. I understand, especially since the food is divine. I could really get used to Italian cuisine.
As the last capo and two enforcers leave, I spy Cat and Danny down the block.
My entire body jolts, white-hot jealousy flooding my system. I clench my hands in my pockets and breathe deeply.
Danny Costa’s not a threat. I should be relieved he’s with Cat. The guy’s part labrador. He’s loyal but not interested in her, and he’ll keep her safe.
So why does seeing them together irritate me so much?
Why are they even here?
Oh. Shit. Cat’s spying on Nino, too, because he didn’t invite her to the meeting.
What the hell’s Nino discussing in there? Belinski’s not even in attendance. The Russian’s never been invited to Café Castellane, so that tracks. But why no Cat?
That can’t be good.
I bolt inside.
To say this place has a red theme is like saying the turf in Yankee Stadium is green.
Red walls, red carpeting, red leather booths… The mirror behind the gondola-shaped bar reflects all the red back into the room.
As I approach the gondola to order a Chianti, Nino spots me from his table for two. His tats practically leap off his neck when he strides my way. Even they’re angry at the sight of me.
But we’re in a public place, around normal, regular, law-abiding patrons, so…
“Gallagher. You got some brass ones.” He gets in my ear, his voice a low hiss. “What’s to stop me from taking you down right here?”
I recline against the bar in a casual pose. “That family of six?” I nod at a couple with four young kids before smirking. “And as the new head of the Ricci family, is that really how you want to inaugurate yourself?”
“Join me for dinner. It’s not a request.”
Fine by me. I’d love a good conversation with this prickhead.
