I was too weak for the dungeon steps, so I instructed Marco to bring Vic up to my new hospital room upstairs. In the middle of the night, they dragged him in and threw him on a plastic tarp spread out on the ground by my bed. He moaned and curled into himself, his broken and bloody body trembling from the pain.
Va bene. This pleased me.
“Can you hear me, pezzo di merda?”
When Vic didn’t answer, Giulio kicked him in the ribs. Vic dry heaved a few times, and after he quieted, I snapped, “Answer me.”
“Yes . . . Don . . . Ravazzani.”
“Know this, Vic Benedetti. I will make an example out of you. They will whisper about the horrors of your death for years to come. You will suffer, coglione. You will suffer for spitting in the face of my trust and for what happened to my wife. The wife and sisters you were trying to protect from D’Agostino? They receive nothing from me after your death, not even my protection.”
“No, please,” he wheezed. “Please.”
“He put a gun in my wife’s mouth. A gun. In my wife’s mouth!” I was shouting by the end, and pain tore through me. I think I popped open a stitch. Gasping, I relaxed and tried to keep breathing.
“Perdonami, perdonami,” he repeated, his one good eye focused on me.
“There is no forgiveness,” I rasped. “No mercy for you. But I won’t make the same mistake with you that I made with Enzo. You won’t be kept alive to prolong the torture. You will die tonight. And pieces of you will be delivered all over Calabria, all the way up to Napoli. I will sprinkle you all throughout Italia like snowflakes so everyone knows of your disgrace.”
He closed his eyes and began praying.
I sneered, “There is no redemption for you—or your family. Which body part should I deliver to them first?”
He started sobbing and I gestured to Marco. My cousin put a gun in my hand and everyone stepped back from the tarp. I didn’t aim for his head, which would’ve been too quick a death. With two shots, I put bullets through Vic’s kneecaps. It was painful but not life-threatening. He howled but I ignored it. When I handed the gun back to Marco, I said, “Cut him up. Leave him alive for the worst of it.”
The men rolled the tarp around Vic and lifted him up. Giulio started to walk out with Marco, so I said, “Giulio, stay.”
His brows drew together and he glanced at Marco. “I’ll come down when I’m done here.”
Marco told Giulio to take his time, and then I was finally alone with my son. The past few hours had been busy ones, with getting settled into my new room and letting Zia and Francesca fuss over me. This was the first chance I’d had to speak with my son. “Come. Sit down.”
Francesca hadn’t been lying. Giulio did look terrible, like he hadn’t slept in days. He’d been such a carefree and happy child. I wondered where that boy had gone. Was he still inside there, buried under layers of responsibility and expectation?
What kind of life are you forcing him into? Secrecy and lies, celibacy and loneliness?
He started to pull over the armchair, but I waved him to the bed. “Sit here. Where I can see you better.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m fine. This is my good side.”
He lowered himself gently onto the bed and folded his hands. “What is it?”
“First, Marco told me of your intelligence and leadership in my absence. I’m very proud of you.”
Giulio’s mouth hitched and his back straightened ever so slightly. “Thank you, Papà. I did my best for you, for the ’ndrina.”
“I know, and I’m very pleased. I always assumed I had more time to ease you into the role, to guide you. I know it couldn’t have been easy to be thrown in like that.”
“It’s given me a whole new appreciation for what you do. I will definitely pay better attention from now on.”
“This is the second thing I wished to speak with you about.” I paused and tried to organize my thoughts. “When you were born I paraded you in front of all the men. ‘Look at your next leader,’ I told them. We had a big party with everyone there.”
He watched me carefully, saying nothing.
“When your mother was killed I raised you myself. I can still remember the way you used to follow me around, playing with your trucks and cars in my office while I worked, asking me questions. I have loved you with every part of my heart. You are my sweet boy, the only good thing in my miserable life until Francesca came along.”
I stopped to clear my throat, afraid I was going to start crying too soon.
When I recovered, I said, “I wanted so many things for you. A wife, children. To carry on the legacy built by my grandfather and father, the legacy I’ve expanded upon. To be feared and respected throughout Europe as Don Ravazzani. But those were things I wanted. Things I demanded without giving you a choice.”
The beeps of the machines filled the silence when I couldn’t force out the words. Once I did, there was no going back.
As parents our job is to put our kids first. Always.
“My wife,” I started, “she is very wise. She sees things I do not, and she’s convinced me that I must let you choose. That your happiness depends on it.”
Giulio blinked a few times. “Choose? Choose, what?”
“Whether to take over as don one day.”
He stared at me, still as a statue. I wasn’t certain he was even breathing. “Is this a joke?” he asked.
“Absolutely not. I’m letting you decide your future. I would prefer that you decide quickly, though. Word can’t get out that there’s any question, any hesitation.”
“You are letting me leave? I can walk away from it?”
“Yes. That is what I am saying.”
“I can’t believe it.” He covered his mouth with a hand, then repeated, “I can’t believe it.”
I could see a light return to his eyes as he began to contemplate a future outside of the mafia. I didn’t wish to influence his decision but he had to understand the risks. “Giulio, before you decide, you must understand something.” I put my hand on his knee. “If you leave, you cannot come back. This isn’t like moving to another city or going off to university. You will no longer be a Ravazzani. You must change your name, your appearance. You can’t—”
My voice cracked and I couldn’t say it.
You can’t be my son any longer.
My lungs burned like the fires of hell were inside them. If he chose to leave, how was I going to bear it?
“Papà,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
He scrubbed his face with both hands. “I know Frankie is having a boy. You’ll have another son. And maybe he won’t be such a disappointment.”
My voice grew stronger. “You have never disappointed me, figlio mio, not a single day in your life. Whatever your decision, I will respect it. I will still love you and I will always be proud of you. But there’s no straddling these two worlds. You are either in or you’re out, and if you stay that means living a lie. To do otherwise puts you in grave danger.”
“And if I leave, I can be whoever I want. Go wherever I want. Date whoever I want.”
“Sì, that’s true.”
“Why can’t I come visit secretly? Or we could meet up somewhere.”
That he was asking this meant he’d already made his decision. I smiled sadly at him. “I will not put you at risk. Perhaps attitudes will change in the mafia in the coming years. Who can say? But I can’t make any promises. For your safety, you must go far away and live as someone else.”
He made a noise in his throat. “I wouldn’t even know where to go.”
“I hear Belgium is nice.”
He sucked in a harsh breath. “Papà . . . .”
“Don’t ask me more.”
He stared at the floor, his expression troubled. “I don’t know if I can actually say it. I’m scared you’re going to change your mind.”
“No matter the name you use, know in your heart, you are a Ravazzani. You come from a long line of powerful men who were born to rule. Don’t live your life in fear. Whatever you decide, be strong.” A tear slipped free but I didn’t brush it away. I needed to feel the pain now, to steel myself. I had to be strong for what was to come. “And I won’t change my mind. I want you to be happy.”
Moisture pooled in his eyes and fat tears trailed down his cheeks. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Grazie, Papà. Grazie.”
I held onto his head and pressed my lips to his forehead. I didn’t like it, but Francesca had been right. How could I deny him happiness? “Ti amo, figlio mio, per sempre.” More tears fell, my cheeks wet, as I breathed him in. He used to smell like lemons, back when Zia would sneak him lemon candies. I’d forgotten that until now, but it was a nice memory. “Per sempre,” I repeated.
Fausto
Leaning on my cane, I threw open my office door and hobbled inside. Marco and my wife were there, with Francesca sitting in my desk chair, and the two of them looked up from a laptop. Alarm bloomed on her face. “Fausto! What are you doing out of bed?”
I didn’t answer, my full concentration required to keep me from falling on my face like a small child. My side hurt like a son of a bitch and sweat already rolled down my back.
Marco reached me first, grabbing my arm to steady me. “You should go back upstairs.”
“I’m fine. Just help me to my chair.”
It had been just over two weeks since the shooting and I was impatient to be better. I needed work to distract me.
“Rav, you should be in bed. David said—”
“No.” I put enough strength in that one word to prevent anyone from arguing with me.
Marco exchanged a look with my wife, which caused irritation to swipe across my skin. My cousin no doubt believed she could control me, as she’d convinced me to change my mind about other things. But I’m the boss, and I made the decisions for the ’ndrina. No one else.
Besides, there was work to be done and all of it was my responsibility. The weight of an empire rested on my shoulders, and I could no longer shirk it.
He got me into my leather chair and a sharp pain ripped through my side, so fierce it took my breath away. Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could sense my wife’s disapproval without even looking at her. It hung heavily in the room, but I ignored it. “Tell me what is going on.”
Francesca sat in a chair across from my desk, while Marco took his usual seat in the corner. Her gaze swept over my face. Whatever she saw there caused her to ask, “Are you all right?”
I hadn’t seen her since my conversation with Giulio last night. We decided he would break the news to her, and I knew he was still asleep. I’d instructed Marco to leave the boy alone today. There was no reason to burden him further with affairs that weren’t his concern any longer. So I was fairly certain Francesca didn’t know yet.
Instead of answering her question, I said, “Fill me in.”
She began reading out her notes on the most pressing issues, and I closed my eyes, listening. She and Toni had done an excellent job. Toni was right—she did have a head for this sort of work. I made comments when necessary, but I was happy to turn the bulk of this tedium over to her. Reading emails and sitting in on conference calls wasn’t a good use of my time.
When she finished I smiled at her. “Va bene, Francesca. You’ve done well in my absence. But then I expected nothing less from you.”
She bit her lip, color staining her cheeks at my compliment. “Thank you, baby.”
“Would you like to continue this? Working with Toni on the Ravazzani businesses?”
“Yes,” she said instantly, a grin nearly splitting her face. “Definitely yes. I can be, like, your personal assistant.”
“No, you can be, like, my Chief Operating Officer.” I was the President of the conglomerate and Toni was the Vice-President. We didn’t have a COO, but I would create the position for her, if she wanted it.
“Oh, my God. Yes. Thank you. That would be amazing.”
“It will be a lot of hard work, amore. Toni will be your boss. I’m not sure this will leave you much time to spend outside or laze about with Lamborghini.”
“It won’t leave me much time for nooners with my demanding husband, either,” she said, lifting a bratty brow in my direction, and Marco snickered.
“We’ll see about that,” I promised darkly.
Smiling, she rose and closed her laptop. “Let me know when you’re done talking about everything else and I’ll come back.”
I made a very quick decision. “Stay.”
She glanced at Marco then back at me. “But I thought you needed to discuss the other businesses?”
“You may stay. There is only our life, remember?”
I’d been thinking a lot about these words, about merging our lives completely. She was my wife, clever and brave, and she’d already seen me at my worst. There was no reason to hide from her any longer. We would be stronger together.
“Really? I can stay?”
“Do I need to repeat myself?” I lifted a brow at her, giving her the stern expression I knew she loved.
“No,” she drawled and lowered herself back into the chair. “I’d like to stay.”
Marco began reporting. “Some guns came in two days ago and Carlo took them all to the safe house. We have buyers lined up coming from Serbia next week.”
“The rebels?”
“Yes. We’ll charge them double what we paid.”
“Good. What else?”
Marco kept at it, his memory sharp, even for details. The shipments in, the purchases out, the status of our construction projects . . . he gave me all of it. I sorted and stored the information in my mind. “Good. Anyone get ideas while I was in the hospital?”
“A few of the suppliers mouthed off and some of our supply houses were raided. It was taken care of. Things should calm down now that you’re back.”
It was to be expected, but I didn’t like it. “You’ll give me the names of those suppliers. I’ll deal with them personally. What about Vic?”
Marco cleared his throat and cast a nervous glance toward Francesca. This was new, discussing murder and disposal in front of her. I waved my hand, telling him to hurry up. “She can take it.”
“We did as you ordered,” he said. “Small pieces were delivered to the appropriate people first thing this morning.”
“Enzo?”
“We sent the head to the last known address we could find for D’Agostino.”
My lips curled. I would’ve loved to see Enzo’s face when he opened that box. Even if he wasn’t home, Enzo would hear of it. News of the delivery would travel fast amongst the ’Ndrangheta, serving as a warning to others who considered betraying me. “Let’s call him and see if he picks up.”
“Right now?”
I nodded. “I want him to know that I’ve recovered, that he hasn’t beaten me.”
Marco pulled out his phone and began scrolling. “If you’re intent on calling him, then you should try to determine where he’s staying, who he’s with. Any information we can get to help us take him out. Do not lose your temper.”
“Yes, baby,” Francesca said. “Please, do not lose your temper.”
I wanted to lash out at them both, but deep down I knew they were right. I stared at my wife’s beautiful face, letting the tranquility she instilled in me settle into my bones. Then I pointed at the phone. When it started ringing, Marco put it on speaker and set it on the desk.
“Pronto,” a voice said, weaker than usual but stronger than it should have been.
“Enzo, come stai? How are you feeling?”
“Never better, Fausto. But enough about me. I hear you’ve been unwell.”
“I’m fine. Stronger than a bull. It’s too bad you couldn’t stay longer.”
“Yes, well. Thank you for your generous hospitality. I will have to see how I can repay you.”
“There’s no need for that,” I said. “It was truly my pleasure.”
“Perhaps you can come visit me next time. Your wife seemed to like the beach house.”
I closed my eyes and dragged in a deep breath through my nostrils. My wife’s delicate fingers touched my hand, telling me to remain calm, so I said, “Last I heard your beach house was destroyed.”
“Everything can be rebuilt, not to worry. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way.”
“Grazie. No need to send a gift. You already left one behind.” The tip of his finger. “Speaking of gifts, did you receive the one I sent you? It should have arrived this morning.”
“No, I haven’t seen it yet.”
“A special token, just for you. I hope you enjoy it.”
There was a long pause. “I’m sure I will. I’ll be sure to send you something in return.”
I leaned forward and hardened my voice. “If I were you, I would focus on my business and family instead.”
“Then it is fortunate you are not me, no?”
This stronzo never learned, apparently. “How is your wife and children? Your young sister? They must have been happy to see you upon your return.”
Enzo didn’t say anything, likely not wishing to divulge whether he’d seen them or not. In the background, I heard church bells. Not particularly revealing, not in Italia, but it could mean he was in a city, not out in the country.
Marco gave me a sign to finish up, so I said, “I must go, Enzo, but I hope you take care.”
“Yes, you take care, as well, Fausto. Please give your beautiful wife a kiss for me, eh?”
I ground my molars together so hard I thought they might crack. “Please do the same with Mariella. Oh, wait. She left, didn’t she? A shame. I know how attached you were to your mantenuta.”
I hung up the phone, unwilling to let that bastardo have the last word.
The silence stretched. Marco shook his head. “We should have killed him when we had the chance, Rav.”
“I fucking know, Marco.” I didn’t look at my wife. I knew she already felt guilty about this.
“He won’t rest until you’re dead. Our only option is to get to him first.”
I scrubbed a hand across my forehead. “Who do we use, the sniper from Rome?”
“You mean Lesso?”
Alessandro Ricci. The best shot in Europe and always available for the right price. I nodded. “See if you can track him down. Whatever he wants but I need proof. Also, let’s find Mariella.”
“Why?” Marco asked.
“Based on what she told Francesca, I think Mariella knows a lot about Enzo’s operations. More than a regular mantenuta. We should find her, discover exactly what she knows, and how we can use it.”
“She’s with some designer in Milan,” my wife said. “She loves to post pictures of herself on Instagram.”
“Excellent. Call one of our friends up there. Have her questioned.”
“Have them get her drunk on white wine,” Francesca said dryly. “It’s her favorite.”
“One more thing,” I said to Marco. “We need to discuss Crimine.”
“What’s Crimine?” Francesca asked.
“A meeting with all the leaders. It’s where decisions are made and problems are solved. It’s sort of like . . .”
“A mafia boss conference?”
A smile tugged at my lips. The first hint of one I’d felt since my meeting with Giulio last night. “Yes, that’s close enough.” I turned to Marco. “You will come with me.”
Marco nodded once. “What about Giulio?”
“No, he’s not coming.”
If Marco suspected anything, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he asked, “Think D’Agostino will attend?”
“Not unless he wants to die.”
“But he might kill you if you go,” Francesca interrupted to point out. “You can’t seriously be considering going.”
“I have to be there. It’s a sign of strength.”
“Let Marco go and be your sign of strength.”
“It doesn’t work that way, amore. We have to appear strong—I have to appear strong.”
“No.” She lifted a brow, much in the way I did when she was arguing with me. “I forbid it.”
That was a line too far. Even Marco realized it, because he stood and headed for the door. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
“We leave in three days,” I told him. “Make whatever arrangements are necessary.”
He nodded and disappeared into the castello. My wife didn’t wait for the door to even close before she started. Fire snapped and crackled in her gaze as it narrowed on me. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Of course not,” I said calmly. “But this is business.”
“This is not business,” she spat. “This is your pride. This is you not wanting anyone to think you are weak. Which is ridiculous! No one in their right mind would ever doubt you or your ability to lead, Fausto.”
And yet Enzo had dared to steal from me, to kidnap my wife. To blackmail one of my men. To try to have me killed. I would not allow another to get ideas.
Anyone who worked against me would pay.
“I will be going, Francesca. So make your peace with it.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Her eyes grew glassy and she put a hand to her chest, dragging in a breath. “I just watched you nearly die. You were bleeding everywhere.” She closed her eyes. “Do not make me go through that again. I can’t take it, baby. I really can’t.”
“Come here.” I motioned with my hand.
“No. Do not try to seduce me into changing my mind.”
“I can hardly seduce you. I’m weaker than a kitten. Come here, piccolina.”
Scowling, she walked over and stood by my chair. I patted the desk. “Up.”
She slid her ass onto the wood and her shoulders slumped. “You said this was our life. That means I get to protect you just as much as you protect me.”
“Within reason, wife. I have responsibilities you won’t always understand, but you have to trust me. There are reasons why Crimine is important, especially this year. I cannot miss it.”
“Then let me come with you.”
“Absolutely not.” I set my hand on her thigh, caressing her through her jeans. “You are the most important thing in the world to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t bear to lose—” My throat closed and I couldn’t finish it.
I can’t bear to lose anyone else.
I would soon watch my oldest son walk out the door forever. If something happened to Francesca, I would never recover.
“Oh, paparino,” she whispered, her expression full of understanding. “Can’t you see I feel the same about you?”
“You have to trust me. I was raised in this life. I know how to stay safe.”
“Says the man who was just nearly killed by an assassin.”
“Francesca,” I said tiredly. “I am going. Now, stop arguing and come lie down with me upstairs. I want to kiss you.”
“I thought you said you were weak as a kitten.”
“I am, which is why you are going to do all the work.” I really was exhausted. Coming downstairs and sitting here had taken all my strength.
“The doctor said no sex, Fausto. Not until you are healed.”
My mouth curved. I liked this very much. “You discussed sex with my doctor?”
Her cheeks turned pink, as if she’d been in the sun for hours. “You discussed sex with my doctor. I don’t see the difference.”
“Is your pussy needy? Does it need to be filled, monella?”
She squirmed a little on the desk and I had my answer. Still, she shook her head. “You are not fucking me.”
I doubted I could get an erection, my body was in so much pain, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help get her off. “No, I’m not, but I have toys upstairs that can serve as a substitute. And, you’re going to let me watch.”
“Dirty old man,” she said, but I could see the way her eyes darkened at the idea.
“Help me up the stairs and I’ll show you how dirty I can get.”
