“Wait,” I say slowly, as I mull this over. “You mean to tell me that Santo went missing at the very same time my mother showed up?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, Tavi,” I say slowly, shaking my head as I think this over. “Is it possible my mother was only a diversion? All of you, and many of your soldiers and guards, were distracted by her tantrum, right?”
He sits up straighter. “Yes.”
“And then he went missing?”
“Right.”
I shake my head from side to side. “Tavi… Tavi, why is Santo the one who works with me in town? Why him, and not one of the lesser-ranking members of The Family?”
“Because he’s the one—Jesus.” He shakes his head. He grits his teeth, and shakes his head again before he continues. “Because he’s the one that told us about your father’s business.”
I look out the window and tap my fingers on the dash. “Yeah, babe. You’ve got to find Santo.”
He powers his phone on and hands me mine, as mine buzzes with a text.
I grit my teeth when I see another text from the unknown number. My goddamn mother. Tavi would likely intercede, but he’s on the phone with Romeo as we head back to the house.
Unknown: Ask Tavi what happened to Piero.
CHAPTER 17
Tavi
I can hardly understand the concept of one of my brothers betraying us. No. No, it isn’t possible. It can’t be. I won’t believe it.
Santo was raised as one of us. He isn’t a blood relative but adopted into the family by my father when he was a child. He was the only one my mother ever let my father have free rein with, and as a result, he’s more ruthless, more conniving even, than any of us.
But like any of us, he’d lay his life down for us. I know he would. I’d swear my own life on it.
It’s the only reason I ever let him work with my wife to begin with.
My family’s vineyard in Tuscany serves a dual purpose—first, we actually grow grapes here and make our own wine. Our Chianti’s won awards year after year, and we’ve gotten some pretty tempting offers to sell it in a retail location. We won’t, though. It was one of the few things I ever agreed with my father about.
Instead, we bottle and ship our wine to our family and friends. An entire wall in our dining room consists of nothing but bottles of our homegrown wine. It’s some of Italy’s finest.
We grow olives here, as well, at a much smaller volume, and make our own olive oil. But here at our vineyard we hold the Rossi family headquarters.
The vineyard in Tuscany is what The Castle is in America: a central meeting point for us to conduct business… among other things.
Leo was the last to see Santo but was so damn plastered he doesn’t remember a thing. I could kick his ass. Orlando says he hasn’t seen him, and Mario says only that he knew he spent the morning of the wedding at Copley, tending to business.
“They wanted Elise to come the night before to look over inventory, but she was busy with you,” Mario says. “So Santo said he wanted to go instead.”
Something’s off. Something’s wrong.
Maybe she came as a diversion.
I call Romeo next. “Rome.”
“Yeah, brother?” I can tell without him saying a word that Romeo hasn’t slept since I left.
“We need to take a closer look at all security footage around the time of Anna Regazza showing up at my wedding.”
“Consider it done,” Romeo says. “Why, though, Tav?”
I tell him what Elise said.
“You sure she isn’t the one involved in any of this?”
I look at my beautiful bride, standing atop a hill that overlooks the valley of vines, the green behind her like a painted scene. I sigh.
“I’m not,” I tell him. “But I’d bet money she’s innocent.”
“Money’s expendable, Tavi,” Romeo says. “Don’t let love or whatever the fuck cloud your judgment.”
It’s then that I realize… that I’ve fallen victim to the exact weakness my brothers have.
“I’ll ask her again,” I say. A sort of cold decision sweeps over me as I look at my beautiful wife. I have to interrogate her in a way that gets the truth out but doesn’t break her. I need her to tell me everything she knows.
She can’t lie to me when she’s being dominated. She gives me nothing but the bold, honest truth.
Romeo’s gone brooding and quiet. Not a good sign. He’s demanded anyone with word about Santo report back to him immediately.
“Elise,” I say quietly.
She turns to me, and the wind rustles her hair. She’s so lovely it makes my heart ache. She brings light to my darkness. Warmth to my cold.
I punished her once for her act of betrayal and told myself never again, that she’d paid the price and we’d start afresh.
But I can’t let even one stone go unturned.