This was big –
Potentially even bigger than the Agrellas getting wiped out.
I mean, that alone was huge –
But whatever secrets Bianca’s father might be holding, they suggested a vast conspiracy my family hadn’t even known existed.
One that had rolled over the Agrellas like a tsunami –
And which might destroy us if we didn’t figure out who was behind it.
“Where are we going?” I asked Bianca as I pulled the Mercedes out into traffic.
“Most of the betting places are near the Centro Storico,” she said – the historic center of Florence. “One’s in Santa Marian Novella near the train station.”
Santa Maria Novella was a neighborhood in Florence west of the historic center. It had a mixture of beautiful old buildings, like the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella, and grungier areas near the train lines.
“Alright, we’ll head there first.”
She gave me a little side-eye. “I think you need to get some other clothes first.”
“What? Why?”
“You look like a gangster.”
“This is an expensive suit!” I said, irritated.
“Yeah, it’s Prada with what looks like a Brunello Cucinelli silk shirt. Which either makes you a fashion model or a mafioso.”
I glanced at her in surprise. “How’d you know that’s what they were?”
“I’m a fashion student and I want to be a designer. I know my shit.”
“You can tell just by looking at them?”
“Of course. I watch all the fashion shows online, and I know that jacket is from Prada’s latest collection. And nobody does silk like Brunello Cucinelli.”
“Huh,” I muttered. “Why couldn’t I be just a regular rich guy?”
“Regular rich guys don’t have tats showing on their necks. Except for Gianluca Vacchi, I guess.”
“Who?”
“He’s this rich old guy on TikTok who dances and – never mind. The point is, he’s a rich guy with tats, but he’s trying to look like a mafioso. You’re a mafioso, but you’re trying not to look like one.”
“What does it matter if I look like a mafioso?”
“Didn’t you say the Agrellas’ people ran the gambling in Florence? Won’t they recognize you?”
“I already told you, the low-level guys at the betting parlors won’t know who I am.”
“Yeah, but if you walk in with a suit worth ten grand, they’re going to know you’re somebody, right?”
“…shit,” I muttered.
“What?”
“You’re right.”
“Ooooh, that was nice – say it again,” she joked.
“Ha ha, very funny,” I said without laughing. “All they have to do is take a picture of me and text it to somebody higher up.”
And whoever they texted it to, it might be somebody from the hotel last night.
“I could go in and do the talking,” she suggested. “You can just stay outside.”
“NO. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
She got a little smile on her face like she enjoyed hearing me say it. Then the smile faded. “Is it a good idea for me to be going around asking where he is?”
“It might raise some red flags… but whoever killed the Agrellas last night, they want to stay anonymous. Which means they probably haven’t put the word out yet… which means the guys on the street shouldn’t know about you or your dad yet, either.”
“Sergio knew,” she said quietly.
She was thinking of the guy I’d shot last night – the one who’d held her mother at gunpoint.
Sergio had been absolutely terrified – which gave me pause.
Whoever was behind this, they must be really bad to make a hardened gangster lose his shit like that.
But I didn’t want to scare Bianca any more than necessary. After all, her father was still out there somewhere.
Hopefully alive.
“Sergio wasn’t a bottom feeder, though. He was a little higher up the food chain. No, whoever is behind this is trying to keep as low a profile as possible… which means they probably haven’t spread it around about your father.” I shrugged. “I’ll know as soon as I see the faces of whoever you ask. Which is why I need to be in there with you.”
“You could be my boyfriend,” she suggested.
I gave her a look –
And she rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you can act like my boyfriend. Jesus.”
“…alright,” I said grumpily. “Yeah, it works better if they think I’m your boyfriend.”
“Then you absolutely need to ditch those clothes.”
“Why?”
“Because a chick dressed like me isn’t going to be hanging out with a guy dressed like you.”
She gestured at her outfit – which I liked a lot because it showed off her curves without showing too much skin.
I mean, if it was just the two of us, I would’ve loved for her tits to be hanging out –
But I hated the idea of other men looking at her.
In fact, if I thought about it too long, it started to make me angry.
“So you’re saying I should dress down,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“What are you thinking?”
“The Gap, maybe?”
“NO.”
She laughed. “We need you to look like an average guy – unless you want people to be suspicious.”
“Average is fine, but I am not wearing anything from the Gap.”
She laughed even harder. “What’s the matter – too big of a jump from Prada to pleated khakis?”
I scowled at her.
“Alright, alright. You know, there’s a cool thrift store in Santa Maria Novella. That’s where I got this outfit. How about we go there and I find you some clothes?”
“…fine,” I grumbled.
I just knew I was going to regret this.
