Page 80 of Marcello

PART II

ROMEO

26

That day at the mansion in Tuscany, I thought I’d met the devil.

I was wrong.

Fausto Rosolini was a demon, to be sure…

But Cesare Caproni was the true Prince of Darkness.

The next six years taught me that lesson over and over and over again.

A week after I’d joined Cesare’s crew, life was looking up.

I’d rented a new apartment all to myself in a better part of Naples.

I’d mostly stopped missing Federica. Whenever I pulled out my keys and saw the cornicello, I still had a twinge of sadness… but even that was fading.

I was getting accustomed to my drug-selling route.

Everything was settling down…

And then Cesare called.

I saw his name on my phone and answered immediately. “What’s up?”

“Meet me at Antica Pizzeria,” he said gruffly.

That was the last stop on my route, about a mile away.

“Okay – when?”

“NOW.”

He immediately hung up.

I knew better than to test his patience, so I sprinted as fast as I could through the streets of historic Naples. I was sure the people who saw me wondered what the hell I’d done and who I was running from.

When I reached my destination, my chest was heaving, I had a stitch in my side, and I was sweating like a pig. But I’d gotten there in less than six minutes.

The silver Maserati was out in front of the pizzeria with Cesare at the wheel. He wore jeans and a wifebeater, which showed off his swollen biceps and shitty tattoos.

He also looked pissed.

As soon as I jogged up, he rolled down the passenger window.

“Get in,” he barked.

Once I was in the passenger seat, he gunned the engine and took off.

“What’s… up?” I panted.

“Congratulations,” he snapped. “You’re about to get that promotion you wanted – if my father agrees to it.”

I stared at him.