Fuck off.
“Good. We acquired a few new restaurants in need of more product,” Elio says. Code: We took over businesses, forcing them to use our supply company. The food industry is a common cash grab for mafias. I should know since I supply produce and fish wholesale.
Andrea
Remind me, who is the one checking his phone like she has your number?
Testa di minchia.
I cut my eyes at my partner shoveling another meatball into his mouth. Flavia dropped off an extra platter after Andrea inhaled the first, along with the spaghetti ala vongole, braciole, and pesce alla griglia.
“Happy to hear demand is high.” I shift my gaze from my partner dressed like a character fromMiami Viceback to Elio.
Andrea
How’s your hostage doing in your basement? Still mad you had her tied up?
She’s not my hostage.
Tied up is a different story.
Bianca’s—or Diana’s—ankle is shackled to her bed. Had she not assaulted two of my men who checked on her, she’d be free to move around the room she’s called a crypt since waking up hours ago. Crypts don’t have area rugs or a private bathroom.
She should be grateful I didn’t take her life in my kill container. I only wanted to scare her into giving me the information I needed. The hurt in her eyes after Luiggi administered the drug to transport her back to my property did something to me. What, I don’t know. I’ve never felt it before.
Luiggi informing me she was the one they’d picked up in Napoli did not end well for the Preda associate strung up on the wall. I was angry and got a little saw happy. I want to believe Trouble is who she says she is. But in this business, everyone’s guilty until proven otherwise. It’s a risk I won’t take.
Bianca has done nothing but shout and attempt to knock out anyone who enters her room. The only person she hasn’t screamed at is Alfonso, who bickers with me every time she calls him Alfred. It’s not her fury that activates my urge to check the security cameras placed around the room more than I care to admit. It’s her whimpers: the silent cries wedge between my ribs. I despise them like I despise deception.
She’s yet to ask for me, which shouldn’t piss me off. Except it does.
What was her play, anyway? Fuck me before stealing someone else’s money and disappearing?
I’d never let her get away that easily.
“Salvatore.”
“Yes?”
Elio’s brows furrow. “You okay?”
“Of course,” I say.
Andrea’s grin widens over his goatee-lined jaw that’s working overtime eating garnish.
Crow’s feet creased around Elio’s eyes tighten on a long tug of his cigar. Ember slips through ash to curl hints of cedar and clove into an exhalation of smoke that ribbons through a saltwater breeze.
“Our restaurants are capturing more of the tourist market,” Elio says, the brim of his straw fedora catching beads of sweat from the humidity thickening the air. “You two have done well for yourselves, but that’s not why you flew here.”
Because I needed a fucking distraction.
Elio is perceptive and ruthless. Our business partnership spans over a decade, built on the exchange of food and weapons. Contracts and cooked books. Our respect is mutual, but I won’t tell him why I requested our quarterly check-in occur in person at his home in Naples.
“There was another attack on one of our facilities. We suspect the Preda, which breaches our territorial agreement,” I say.
Elio’s whistle is slow. “Who did the skinning?”
I flash a grin and lean into the heat of the outdoor cushion. “You had your calling card. I have mine.”
