“Drinks, boys?”
“I’m good,” I say. We both decline.
He folds his meaty, damp hands and gives me an oily smile.
“Now cut to the chase,” he says. “You came here uninvited. Your Don is in jail. I’ve been asked to marry one of the Rossi women, and I’ve agreed to wipe your debt clean once she’s mine.”
I clench my hands under the edge of the desk, where no one can see them.
“We’ve been under attack, and we came to ask questions.”
“Questions?” He tips his head to the side with a fake look of benign curiosity. “What sort of questions?”
“We found footage of one of your men drugging our guard dogs,” Mario says in a cold, angry voice. “We know it was one of yours because of the hand tat.”
“Not us,” Carmine says with fake innocence. “We’ve been traveling abroad and just returned last week.”
“So someone with Campanelle ink feigned allegiance to you and came to my house?” Mario asks. “You sure about that?”
“I’m sure,” he says tightly. “Anything else I can help you with?”
Something isn’t adding up. He’s acting too innocent. He knows shit.
“Mario, Rosa’s your sister, isn’t she?” he says. “She’s so pretty, she looks like a little Catholic schoolgirl.” His grin turns sour. “Tell me, does she suck cock?” He grins when Mario’s face goes red.
He knows exactly who we are, and he sent someone to our house.
“Don’t fucking talk about my sister like that, bro,” Mario warns. “Don’t do it. We came here to have a casual conversation, real friendly-like, right? Shut up about my sister.”
Carmine Campanelle… I remember his ruddy, puffy face. I remember what the Regazzas told me about him, too.
When Carmine sees Mario’s reaction, he gets a snake-like look on his face. His eyes narrow. “She’s no good to me if she ain’t good in bed, Rossi. And I’ve waited a long, long time for this. I can’t wait to spread her legs. I can’t wait to take her back to my house and treat her like an Italian princess. I’m gonna truss that girl up—”
I’m over the desk before he finishes his sentence. I break his nose with the first swing of my fist. Mario hits the door and barricades it while I beat the shit out of Carmine.
I slam my fist against the side of his face, feeling bone break. He reaches for a button on the desk but with the blunt flat of my hand, I break his fingers.
“You came to our house, Campanelle. If it wasn’t you, it was one of your fuckin’ minions. We came here for answers, and you’re giving them to us. Tell me why you sent someone there.”
He shakes his head and tries to push me off, but I’ve got him in a death-like grip. “We’re gonna scour your files and see what we find. Mario.” I jerk my head at Carmine’s phone. Mario grins and heads over.
“Don’t you fucking—”
I slam my hand across his face so hard, his head snaps back and he whimpers. If this were Romeo, and someone attacked him in his office, they wouldn’t have made it this far. Romeo’s got better protection, and Romeo would wipe the floor with an attacker. This guy, though, has gone soft. Given too often to rich food and laziness in his premium imported leather chairs, getting those goddamn blow jobs he says he wants from Rosa, his body is soft and plush and easy to manipulate.
“Read it, Mario.”
Mario scrolls down, scowling.
“Guy named Franco reported back last night. Says…” he scrolls down further. “Motherfucker. Sent a scout to get a layout of Rosa’s room.”
I lift Carmine up, slam my knee into his ribcage, and when his head comes down with a strangled cry, I slam his head on the desk, push it under my palm to hold him in place and call Rosa.
“Hello?”
“Baby, you okay?”
“Yes, Santo, I’m fine. Why?”
“No reason. I’ll explain later. Stay close to your guards.”
I hang up the phone before she says I love you. I can’t have Mario hear that, even if it makes me crave her even more.
“We’ll get Romeo on the phone with you. You see, Carmine, he’s home today, Romeo.”
Carmine’s eyes go wide. It’s news to him. “Couldn’t hold him in as long as you’d planned, could you? Now this is what you’re gonna do, boss. I’m gonna let you go. You’re gonna wash your face and keep your fuckin’ mouth clean. And you’ll tell your family why you ain’t marrying Rosa Rossi.”
He shakes his head. I kick him again, grab him by the front of his shirt, and shake him hard. “You got our boss sent to jail. You trespassed on our property. You talked disrespectfully about Rosa Rossi.” I curse under my breath. “You dirty motherfucker will keep out of our family or we go to war. And last I checked, Carmine,” I say with a warning thread in my voice he’d better heed, “we’ve got three times the manpower you do, we own more property, and you’re the motherfucker tappin’ underage girls. That’d look real nice if you get yourself in jail, wouldn’t it?” He wouldn’t last a day, made man or not. I mentally thank the traitor Regazza for giving me a bargaining chip.