He pushes his chair back. “Excuse us for a minute,” he says, buttoning his jacket as he follows me out the door. “What the fuck, Cristiano?”
I stop. Turn.
Dante closes the conference room door and folds his arms across his chest.
“I have bigger fish to fry, Uncle. This is handled. Papers signed. They want to throw a fucking party in my honor? No thank you. Don’t fucking waste my time.”
“It’s a fund raiser and if your names are on it, the survivors of the massacred mafia family who have risen from the dead, come home to make good, well, it’s good for business. Good for everyone.”
“What do we care? The donation bought what we needed. It’s a fucking front anyway.” The money won’t be going to the charity itself. At least not most of it. It’ll line the pocket of another greedy politician who will in turn be in my pocket.
“God damn it. Keep your voice down.”
“Dante will go in my place.” I hear my brother’s muttered curse. “I need to get back to the island.” I take a step away.
He puts his hand on my arm. “Is it the girl?”
I look down at it, then at him. I take a step toward him. David is my father’s half-brother. He’s in his late forties and at six feet tall, about four inches shorter than me. He’s a businessman. Built like he sits behind a desk all day.
And he’s overstepping.
“I’ve got bigger priorities, Uncle. You handle this. This is what you want. You were never part of our father’s business. Keep it that way.”
“No, I opted for clean money.”
“No, not clean. Cleaned so you can’t see the blood.”
He grits his teeth, jaw tightening. He shakes his head with a loud exhale. “That’s what you think of me? After everything? That’s Charlie Lombardi poisoning your mind against your own family.”
“Christ.”
I run a hand through my hair and walk to the window, looking out over the city. We have different goals, my uncle and me. I want revenge. I want anyone who had a hand in my family’s massacre dead.
He wants to capitalize off that vengeance.
And he hates Charlie.
Dante comes to stand beside me. “Hey. You okay?”
I watch the pedestrians on the street. Tourists and locals going about their uncomplicated lives. I turn to Dante. I nod.
He pats my back as we both turn back to our uncle.
“I don’t think that of you. And Charlie hasn’t said a word about you to me,” I say. “I know what you did for me. I know if it wasn’t for you, I’d be six feet under with the rest of them.”
He nods. “You know I miss them.”
“I know. I’m closer than I’ve ever been to finishing this.” I just need to find Marcus Rinaldi now. Plans to take care of his father are already in place, but honestly, I have a problem putting a pillow over the face of a dying man. Not out of the goodness of my heart. No. I just want to be sure he sees me. Sees my eyes as I smother the life out of him. I want him to know it’s me.
“Go,” Dante says. “I’ll take care of this.”
“You’ll both attend the gala?”
“We’ll both fucking attend the gala,” Dante says, giving me a look. “If I have to go, you have to go.”
“Fine.”
“Good. All right.” My uncle pats my back. “Dante and I had better get back in there.”
“Are you coming back to the island tonight?” I ask him.
“No. I’ll stay in the city. I’ve got a few things to take care of. You’ll be meeting with the families tomorrow?”
I nod but don’t tell him more. Just as Charlie isn’t involved in the legitimate side of things, I keep my uncle out of the criminal side.
“Are you going with him?” he asks Dante.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Why don’t you stay out of it, Dante. Let Cristiano—”
“Like I said, I wouldn’t miss it,” Dante says, cutting him off. We exchange a glance. My brother has my back and I’ve got his, even if we don’t agree on everything.
“All right,” my uncle says and takes a step but stops, wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and looks around before asking his question. “What’s your plan with Jacob?”
“Don’t ask me those questions. You know that. You’re either in the family business or you’re out of it.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. “I don’t trust him.”
“You think I do?”
He chuckles, pats my back. “Just make sure it’s not the girl that’s turned your head. Fuck her and get rid of her. You owe them that.”
Them. My family.
“I know what I have to do.” That’s the one thing he doesn’t need to remind me of.
5
Cristiano
Cerberus, my German Shepherd, enthusiastically greets me when I enter the house. I smile, crouching down to pet him. He’s been with me for two years. A loyal companion. Dante is spending the night in town. I can’t blame him. I’m not a lot of fun these days and now that we’re back in the land of the living, he’s making up for lost time.