CHAPTER 17
Ever since he’d massaged her by the pool the day before, Enrico hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about Kate. The memory of touching her hit him hard that evening as he was lathering up in the shower. He’d put himself through a grueling workout, but it hadn’t helped.
He ran the bar of soap over his arms, unable to stop picturing her there with him. He wanted her hands touching him, not his own. When he’d rubbed the sunscreen on her, she was all softness, all curves, her body pliable, yielding. He closed his eyes. His hands kneaded her thighs, his eyes glued to the fleshy mound of her sex. He cupped it with his hand, then pushed the thin fabric aside, his fingers parting the lips of her slick little figa, his mouth on her high ripe breasts, her hard nipples rolling under his tongue. Her lush body beneath his, opening up to him.
He soaped up his cock, the length going rigid as he imagined her mouth on him, his cock moving in and out between her ripe lips, the little moans in her throat as she swallowed him down, her tongue swirling over the head, again and again, driving him mad.
Now he was taking her on her hands and knees, thrusting into her from behind. She was so tight, gripping him like a glove, and he was fucking her like it was the last thing he was going to do on this earth. His hand slid up and down in a desperate rhythm. Cristo. Her ass jiggled as she pressed back into him, as his hips slapped against hers, her moans deepening as he slammed his cock into her.
He came with a groan, his heart pounding, his breathing ragged, momentarily spent as he leaned against the creamy white marble wall of the shower. Dio, he’d fantasized about her before, but it had never been that good. Now that he knew what she felt like, what she tasted like.... He took a deep breath. He couldn’t spend all day in the shower. And he couldn’t make love to Kate right now. Maybe not for quite a while, maybe not ever again. His chest ached.
He turned off the shower and stepped out, scrubbing roughly at his skin with a towel. He was finger-combing his hair when the mobile phone on the bathroom counter vibrated. He picked it up and was greeted by a frantic voice on the other end.
Carlo had finally made his move.
As he hurriedly pulled on clothes, the mobile phone continued to buzz like an agitated bee. First Dom, then Antonio, then Ruggero, then several other reports came in, all bad. Carlo’s men had struck three times that evening, in different parts of Milan, roughing up business owners under Enrico’s protection, including the elderly and influential Giacomo Parini and his wife Marietta. Targeting the Parinis meant Carlo was serious; if they bolted from the Lucchesi family’s protection, many others would follow their lead.
Dom called again, his voice urgent when Enrico picked up. “They shot Ottavio Bottura.”
“Will he live?”
“The doctors aren’t sure.”
“Damn it!” Enrico’s mind was churning. “Where did it happen?”
“Near the others. He was checking on the Morettis. Carlo’s men were waiting.”
“Have you alerted everyone?”
“I’ve got men on it.” There was a pause, then Dom said, “You must accept Delfina.”
He was puzzled. “I thought you’d already arranged it.”
“I have spoken to Dario and Carlo.”
“But?”
“Carlo doesn’t trust you. He says you must give up the American.”
“I can’t.” He should have guessed. Carlo wanted her too.
“He says he will not have his granddaughter insulted by a public mistress.”
The anger he’d been holding at bay exploded. “Fuck him. Everyone knows he has a mistress. He takes her everywhere!”
“I’m not arguing with you. It’s not fair, but it’s what he wants.” There was a long silence, then Dom said, “So, you’re not changing your mind.”
“Either I have Kate, or no Delfina.”
“Carlo will not accept that.”
“As I said—”
“Yes, yes. Fuck him. That might feel good to say, but it won’t solve our problem. Carlo is trying to cut us off at the knees with this business today.”
“I’m aware of that.” Why couldn’t he just do the right thing? Why couldn’t he just walk away from Kate? Why was he selfishly holding on to her, keeping her in danger?
“Since you seem to be out of ideas,” Dom said, “may I recommend hard measures later tonight in each district Carlo controls around Milan?”
Enrico ignored the jab. “No. We go with a two-pronged approach starting now. Send a few men out to trash Andretti’s business clients—frighten the owners, but don’t harm them. I want them grateful it wasn’t worse. I want everyone else we’ve got hitting Andretti’s bases throughout the city. Burn them out if you have to. I want him to hurt.”
“We’ll make him suffer.”
“The families who’ve been affected—you’ve issued compensation and protection?”
“Yes. Enzo’s at the hospital with the Parinis, and I’m en route to Ottavio and his wife.”
“I’ll be there shortly.” Enrico flipped the phone shut and went in search of Kate. He found her working in the solarium. “I have to go to Milan.”
She closed her laptop. “What’s wrong?”
“Carlo attacked several of my businesses.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Yes. I am going to check on things. Pino and Ruggero will go with me; Antonio, Santino, and Claudio will stay with you.” He paused. “Please stay near the house.”
“Do you think they’ll come here?”
He hated the anxiety in her voice. “I do not think so.”
“He did send Vince though.” Kate took a deep breath. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
He nodded. Seeing the terror on her face, he made a decision. “If you wish to leave, have your bags packed and ready to go when I return.”
“I don’t have a passport.”
“Do not worry about that.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“Of course not. But if you are afraid—”
“I’m staying.”
He couldn’t have been more shocked. Or more pleased. He grinned at her, his chest going warm with pleasure. “I do not know how long this will take.”
“I’ll be here.”
He turned to go. “Wait.” Hearing the desperation in her voice, he spun back to her and found her suddenly in his arms. Her hands on the back of his head urged him to her for a tender kiss. The warmth in his chest expanded, grew, as her lips met his, as she sighed into his mouth. He pulled her close, crushing her to him for an instant. Then he let her go. He had to, or he’d never leave. “Come back to me,” she whispered. It was the first passionate kiss they’d shared since Vincenzo had attacked them. Joy flooded through him. If he survived this, there was hope for them.
He stroked a few stray hairs off her cheek, then kissed her once more, letting his hunger loose for an instant. “I will return soon.” Then he turned and left, jogging to the cars out front. He passed Antonio heading up to the house and stopped him. “Stay with her at all times.” He pinned Antonio with a hard stare.
“Sì, capo. I will guard her with my life.”
He clapped Antonio on the back, then hurried to the Mercedes, where Pino and Ruggero were waiting with the engine running. Both were heavily armed. As soon as Enrico slipped inside, they headed for Milan. Another car with three men followed them.
Ruggero was sitting in front with Pino. He pulled a 9mm Glock out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Enrico. The gun felt heavy and cool in Enrico’s hands. He popped the clip and checked that it was full, then slapped it back in. Every gunman made sure of his weapon. It was one of the first rules his father had taught him.
He put the gun in his pocket and settled back against the seat. His heart raced. So it was finally upon them. He was almost glad to have the waiting over. He just wished it weren’t happening now, not with Kate here. Not now, not while he wasn’t sure of her. But that kiss…. He smiled to himself.
Ruggero must have been watching him in the rearview mirror. He half-turned to Enrico. “Feels good to be in the action again, yes?”
Enrico nodded. It did. Though the action he was thinking of didn’t involve bullets. He shook off the memory of Kate’s body pressed against his. He needed his wits about him.
En route, he pulled out his mobile phone and dialed his godfather. Vittorio answered on the first ring with “Ciao, Enrico, my son,” as if he were expecting the call.
“Ciao, mio padrino. You know why I’m calling?”
“I’ve heard Carlo has stuck a thorn in you.”
“I’m dealing with it as we speak.”
“I wish you well. I have a meeting with Benedetto in the morning about this outrage.”
“Mille grazie, Don Battista.”
“Thanks are not required. You do us all a great service, my boy. Carlo is a rabid dog who would tear everything apart if left unchecked. It is difficult to be his keeper. Even Benedetto does not like to tangle with his brother.”
“Thank you for your kind words.”
Vittorio laughed again, ending with another rasping cough. “You are so much like your father. So modest. But without the temper.”
Enrico smiled. “I have the temper. I’m just not as free with it.”
“Perhaps you would do well to unleash it from time to time. Carlo needs a reminder of who you are.”
“Wise advice, Don Battista.”
There was a pause, then Vittorio said, “I wish you to come see me when this has calmed down. There is a matter we must discuss.”
Enrico felt a little jolt. The old don was the liaison between La Provincia, the quasi-ruling body of the ’Ndrangheta, and the individual families. “Am I in trouble?” he asked, then regretted letting his anxiety show.
“Call it an old man’s intuition.”
Enrico wondered what was on Don Battista’s mind, but since they were approaching the outskirts of Milan, he wanted to be on full alert. “I’ll come see you. I’d already been thinking of it.”
“I look forward to it. And bring this American of yours. I wish to meet her.”
“Will do. Ciao.” He waited for the old don’s reply, then snapped the phone shut. Why did he want to see Kate? How had he even heard about her? He thought for a moment. Dom, of course. So Dom had already been complaining to their padrino. An inquiry from La Provincia was the last thing Enrico needed.
They rolled up to the hospital. Pino put the car in park and left the engine running. He waited for the guards from the other car to surround them, then he got out and opened the door for Enrico. Ruggero joined them, and the four men flanked Enrico as they entered the hospital.
They were soon outside the ICU. Enrico checked on Ottavio Bottura and his wife. The man’s condition was grave, but there was hope he’d recover. He prayed with Ottavio’s wife, handed her a thick envelope of euros, then left. It was all he could do for them at the moment.
He headed down the hall to see the Parinis. Giacomo had been badly beaten; his wife Marietta, while bruised, was well enough to be sitting by her husband’s bedside when Enrico walked in. Patches of gauze and tape covered most of Giacomo’s exposed skin. His left eye was swollen shut and a dark purple bruise spread over most of the left side of his face. “Madonna,” Enrico murmured under his breath. “Come stai?” he asked when he reached Giacomo’s bedside.
Giacomo rolled his head to look at Enrico out of his good eye. “Don Enrico,” he said, his voice raspy. “I’ve been worse.” Before his father had gone into seclusion, Giacomo and Rinaldo had been close friends. Giacomo refused to call Enrico Don Lucchesi as long as Rinaldo was still alive. Enrico didn’t mind. Even after all these years, the title didn’t quite fit. Don Lucchesi was his father. Not him.
Enrico took Giacomo’s hand. The old man’s skin felt like crepe paper, the thick veins beneath it creating hills and valleys on the back of his hand. He glanced at Marietta, shame burning his cheeks. Two more people he’d failed to protect. “I apologize deeply for what has happened.”
“When I chose sides, I knew this could happen one day. But it would have been easier to bear a decade or two ago.” Giacomo smiled, wincing when his split lower lip tore open.
“I am grateful for your support, and sorry it has cost you so much.” Seeing Giacomo like this, feeling how frail he was, made his chest ache.
“I cannot in good conscience support Andretti. He’s a snake.”
“I will put two men in your shop at all times. Send me the bill for any extra help you have to hire while you’re recovering.” He pulled another envelope thick with euros from his jacket pocket and handed it to Marietta. “Let me know if this doesn’t cover your expenses.”
“Grazie, Don Lucchesi,” she said.
Giacomo squeezed his hand. “We will remain loyal to you. You need not fear. However, you must seek peace with Andretti, you must settle this matter soon. Otherwise, there will be defections. I cannot long argue in your favor with the other merchants if they keep suffering.”
“Carlo made an example of you to scare them.”
“It’s working. My mobile phone has been ringing all night. Most are terrified right now.”
“I have men on the streets as we speak. Carlo will suffer for this.”
“Make sure he does.” Giacomo coughed, then let out a gasp of pain, squeezing Enrico’s hand harder than he would have thought possible. “My ribs.”
“Signore, please don’t worry yourself. I have it under control.”
“Do you?” Marietta whispered. When he turned his eyes toward her, she clapped a hand over her mouth and averted her gaze.
“Carlo will not trouble you further.” His tone was firm, but he kept his voice soft.
She finally met his eyes. “We are counting on you, Don Lucchesi.”
“As I am counting on you. I’ll do my utmost to resolve this matter immediately.” He gave the old man’s hand another squeeze. Then he made the sign of the cross and said a quick prayer for Giacomo before he left.
But it was up to him, not God, to make things right. It was his selfishness, his stubbornness, that had gotten them to this point. But he wouldn’t roll over for Carlo; that would be the worst move he could make. He had to play this carefully, or soon he wouldn’t be playing at all.
He met Dom in the hallway. Their guards had split into three groups of two and were posted at the entrances to the ICU.
“Dom,” Enrico said, inclining his head stiffly. He was still angry over what he’d heard from Don Battista. How dare Dom go to La Provincia?
Dom eyed him warily. “How are the Parinis?”
“Marietta is fine. Giacomo is badly hurt, but he will survive.”
“We need to talk. Some place more private.”
They walked outside, heavily flanked by guards, when a group of men on foot rushed at them from the shadows, shots blasting from their guns. Adrenaline flooded Enrico’s body; he struggled to keep his breathing even and his mind clear as he and the guards raced toward the cars. Ruggero’s gun was up and firing before Enrico had his in hand. He was about to pull the trigger when pain seared through his upper left arm. He grabbed at it with his right hand. His fingers and the gun stock came back bloody. He’d been hit.
His step slowed. Keep going. Crouching lower, he ran for the car, trying to make himself a smaller target. Ruggero glanced back at him a couple times, doing his best to keep his body in front of Enrico’s. Another of the guards kept pace with them. Dom headed to his own car. He appeared to be unhurt, but it was hard to tell in the darkness.
They reached the Mercedes and found Pino slumped behind the wheel. Enrico dived into the back seat. “Fuck!” Ruggero exclaimed, wrenching the driver’s door open and shoving Pino’s body over to the passenger side. He motioned with his gun to the other guard, indicating that he should drive. Ruggero jumped in the back next to Enrico and they roared off, the cars with the other guards and Dom’s men right behind them.
Ruggero looked at Enrico, seeing the blood on his jacket. “How bad?”
“I’ll live.” Enrico pulled his mobile phone out and called Dom. “Pino’s gone. Did you lose anyone?”
“My driver, and one of my men is injured. I’m taking him to the field clinic.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Perhaps you should return home.”
“No.” His talk with Dom couldn’t wait.
He leaned forward and spoke to the guard behind the wheel. They changed direction and headed for one of their safe command posts in the city. Enrico settled back on the seat, closing his eyes, the wound on his arm throbbing. Dom was hiding something. They’d fought before, certainly. But never had Enrico doubted Dom’s loyalty, his love. But now… Dom had gone over his head to La Provincia, which meant Dom was willing to risk Enrico’s life. La Provincia wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate a capo who wasn’t acting in the best interests of his cosca or the ’Ndrangheta. And Dom would be ready to take Enrico’s place if they did.
They pulled up to a building owned by the Lucchesi cosca. There were several soundproof, heavily armored apartments on the bottom floor with separate entrances that could be used for meetings or eluding the police. One of the apartments had been set up as a rudimentary clinic. The injured man was taken there so the doctor could attend to him.
Dom and Enrico entered the apartment next door and sat down at the simple wooden table in the kitchen, neither of them saying a word until Dom noticed the blood seeping from the hole in Enrico’s jacket. “Shall I get the doctor?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
Dom frowned. “You’re still bleeding. I’d better bandage it.” He rose and fetched a first aid kit from the bathroom. When he returned, he pulled out bandages, gauze, and antibiotic ointment while Enrico removed his jacket and rolled up his left sleeve. The shallow tear oozed blood, but he’d been lucky.
While Dom was cleaning the wound, Enrico spoke. Business first, the things they couldn’t discuss on the phone. “What’s happened so far?”
“We’ve hit the Vigentino, Quinto Romano, and Crescenzago districts so far. I don’t think they were expecting such an aggressive move. We took several command posts and many weapons.”
“Casualties?”
“Three dead, five wounded on our side, at least a dozen dead on theirs. Carlo has let his men get sloppy. We have men fanning out to Carlo’s other strongholds.”
“Bene. Have you heard from Carlo?”
“Dario has asked to speak with you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” Dom checked his watch. “In an hour.”
“Where?” Enrico did not want to meet with the Andrettis. Not this soon.
“Any place of your choosing.”
Interesting. Why would they be so conciliatory so quickly? He didn’t like it. “Tell him no.”
Dom looked startled. “He feels insulted. Refusing to see him will not help.”
Enrico stared at him hard. “You made this mess. You clean it up.”
“I was trying to help you.”
“I don’t need it.” He watched Dom’s face carefully, but hurt was all he saw. He leaned closer to his friend and lowered his voice. “I don’t understand you. I’ve made my wishes clear, and yet you defy me. I spoke to Don Battista in the car on the way here. Why have you spoken to La Provincia about Kate?”
“I haven’t. I mentioned her to Don Battista, but it was a personal question, not an official one.”
“What was his advice?”
Dom lowered his eyes. “He said I should stay out of it, that he would speak to you.”
“Are you going to listen to him?”
Dom looked up at Enrico. “He is my padrino too, so yes, I will let him handle it. But I would shake you until you saw sense if I could. You nearly got us all killed. Because of your selfishness!”
Enrico blanched. Dom was right. And wasn’t he also right to involve La Provincia if he thought that necessary? “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t save our lives.” Dom smeared the antibiotic ointment over the wound, his touch rough.
“I know.” Killing Vincenzo and turning down Delfina—both were grave insults. Vendettas had been waged over less, and there were many in La Provincia who would sympathize with the Andrettis if the matter came before them for resolution. Giving Dario and Carlo fancy cars or a pile of cash wouldn’t allow the Andrettis to save face. No, a deeper sacrifice was called for.
“I’m thinking about offering them the Bicocca district.” It would strengthen the Andrettis’ hold on the construction business in Milan, giving them more than half of it. “Kate is part of it—she walks away from all this and is let alone. And if she wants to stay with me, she stays.”
Dom frowned as he taped gauze over the cut. “You’re asking a lot.”
“I’ll marry Delfina as well, if necessary. But I keep Kate if she’s willing.”
“What if the Andrettis don’t accept?”
Enrico blew out a breath. He didn’t want to make the offer, but if he had to, to stop the bloodshed, to save Kate, he would. “We give them a discount on the wash.”
Dom stared at him. “You’re willing to sacrifice your precious principles?”
“I am. For her.”
Dom sat back in his chair, his mouth open. “You really do care about her.”
“What did you think? That I’d do all this on a whim?”
“I thought you’d give her up if you had to.”
“That I will not do. Not unless she desires it.”
“You would even marry her?”
“I would.” His answer, so unhesitating, surprised even him. But it was true. He loved her; he could admit that now. It wasn’t lust that drove him. It was love. It was her.
“You’re a fool. She’ll never accept you, she’ll never accept this,” Dom said, gesturing around them.
“That may be.” Enrico returned Dom’s stare. He was tired of all of this. Tired of waiting. Maybe Dario and Carlo were trying to set a trap, but this evening he was through being cautious. “Call them. Let’s get this over with.”
“You’ve changed your mind?” When Enrico nodded, Dom asked, “How deep will you go on the discount?”
“Up to five percent.” It was a significant offer. If they didn’t accept, he’d appeal to La Provincia. No one could fault his generosity.
“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if we were stronger.”
“I will not resort to drugs and prostitution to fill our coffers.”
Dom sighed. “But think of what we could do then. We could hire more men. We could drive the Andrettis out of Milan. Don’t you want that?”
Enrico’s smile was bitter. “More than anything. But not at that cost.”
“So you’ll bend the rules to save her, but not to save the rest of us? You’ll even weaken us over her.” Dom smacked his fist onto his knee. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?”
Dom was right, and at the same time, he was wrong. It wasn’t right to stoop so low to win. How could he look at himself in the mirror if he did? But he was risking them all, he couldn’t debate that. And for a woman he wasn’t even sure he could have. It was risky and foolish, and very unlike the Enrico Lucchesi he knew. But he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her, and he would win her. If it was the last thing he did.
He looked at Dom. “I see everything very clearly. And I will be the victor.”
They met the Andrettis on neutral ground, at a safe house owned by the d’Imperios. Dario and Carlo were already seated on one side of a highly polished mahogany dining table when Dom and Enrico arrived. After everyone had been searched for weapons, the guards retreated outside to wait. Dom and Enrico took seats across from the Andrettis.
Silence prevailed. Enrico ignored Carlo and looked at Dario first, his aquiline nose, generous mouth, and large dark eyes reminding him of Toni. His hair was even the same shade of blue black. Cristo. It hurt to look at him.
Dario flexed his right hand, and the missing little finger drew his gaze. He’d never spoken to Dario about that incident, all those years ago, when both of them had been caught up in the fight between their fathers. Dario was lucky he had a right hand at all, maimed though it was. He nodded in Enrico’s direction, perhaps acknowledging the debt he owed him.
Enrico held his gaze for a moment, then he turned to Carlo. He hadn’t seen him since Toni’s funeral. He looked a bit thinner, but otherwise the same—his thick silver hair combed back off his face, his sharp nose jutting above thin lips, his cream suit finely cut, his attire expensive and ostentatious. The diamond ring on the little finger of his left hand and the gold Rolex at his wrist winked in the light from the chandelier overhead.
Carlo glared at Enrico, his eyes blazing. Enrico was sure his own were hardly more neutral. Dom shifted beside him, no doubt wanting to dispel the mounting tension. But Enrico knew the value of silence. Someone else—preferably Carlo—would be the one to break it.
Carlo pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket, his movements unhurried. He clipped the end off, then lit it, taking several slow puffs until it caught the flame. Smoke curled around his face as he sat back in his chair. He contemplated the burning cigar for a moment, dragging out the wait, then he raised his eyes to Enrico’s. “So, you have the courage to meet my challenge face to face.”
Enrico bristled, but that was what Carlo wanted. He took a breath, then let it out. “That was a challenge, was it? Beating old people, terrorizing my clients. How noble of you. If you wanted to meet with me, you could’ve just asked.”
Dom nudged him, his eyes pleading with him to behave. Not bloody likely. He turned back to Carlo.
Carlo took a long drag on his cigar, then let the smoke out through his nose and mouth. “I could’ve just asked, he says.” He looked at his son. “Do you think Lucchesi would have responded to a polite request?” Dario shrugged. Carlo turned away from him with a grimace.
Enrico looked at Dario, sizing him up as a possible ally. Dom had said Dario was angry, but he didn’t seem upset. He turned his attention back to Carlo. “So what is it that you want—other than my head on a platter.”
Carlo laughed. “Your head on a platter is just the start.” He drew on the cigar, his cheeks hollowing out as he inhaled. Then he sent a stream of smoke across the table, into Enrico’s face. “Aside from that, I want you and your”—he waved his hand to indicate Dom—“ilk out of Milan.”
Enrico ignored the smoke. Carlo wouldn’t bait him so easily. “Anything else?”
Carlo’s mouth shifted into a leer. “Now that the American has shed her husband, she’ll need a new man in her bed. I am willing to oblige her.”
A surge of adrenaline sent Enrico’s heart into overdrive. “I would think you’d rather avenge Vincenzo than cuckold his memory.”
Carlo shrugged. “She already gave him the horns. What more damage could I do?” He sucked on the cigar again. “Though what you say has merit. He was my nephew.” He met and held Enrico’s gaze. “Of course, I blame you for what happened. She may have pulled the trigger, but his death was your doing. You couldn’t resist an opportunity to hurt an Andretti by stealing his wife.”
“You think I hate you that much?”
Carlo laughed, then started to cough. His voice rasped when he spoke. “Of course you do. Just as I hate you. That much.” His eyes went flat and cold on the words.
Enrico leaned forward. “Enough with the pleasantries. Why are we really here?”
Carlo set the cigar in a crystal ashtray and clasped his hands together. “As I said, I want the Lucchesi stench out of Milan. Perhaps then I can forgive… certain transgressions.”
“Vincenzo was not my fault. He brought that on himself.”
Carlo’s voice hoarsened. “And what of my Toni? Did she deserve your mistreatment?”
“What mistreatment? I loved her, I treated her like a queen.”
“You know what you did. Your disrespect, taking that little slut into your bed when Toni was barely cold in her grave.” He stared daggers at Enrico.
A flush rose up his neck. “She’d been dead six months.”
“You couldn’t wait to replace her. To get a child by some other woman.” Carlo paused. “Of course, your own weakness thwarted those plans.”
Enrico said nothing. His teeth ground together, the muscles bunching in his jaw as Carlo continued.
“You wanted to replace her all along, didn’t you? You never loved her. All you wanted was an heir. And when she…” Carlo’s voice broke. “When she failed—” He glared at Enrico, then gathered himself. “I wouldn’t put it past you to have poisoned her.”
His mouth dropped open. “You know as well as I do she had cancer. I would never harm her. Never.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and churning stomach. The man was insane. Enrico was on the verge of becoming irrational himself. He stood and backed away from the table, pacing a few steps before turning back. “I was devastated when she died. You know that.”
Carlo leaned back, his eyes not leaving Enrico’s. “Your conduct afterward gives the lie to your grief.”
“Fiammetta was a mistake. I admit that.” He started to say more, then stopped. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.” He sat back down. “Stop this nonsense. Either ask for something reasonable or let’s call off this charade.”
“You want me to be reasonable, do you? So like your father.” Carlo flattened his hands on the table and leaned toward Enrico. “Fine. I want the meatpacking and jewelry businesses in Milan.” He paused. “And I want the whore. Tell me, Don Lucchesi, does the thatch between her legs match that glorious red mane of hers?”
Heat blasted through Enrico. He lunged across the table, grabbing Carlo by the lapels of his fine suit and pulling him half out of his chair. “Kate is no whore. And she is mine.”
“Take your filthy hands off me.” Carlo’s voice was hard, but there was a smile on his face.
Dom put a restraining hand on Enrico’s left arm. The wound throbbed in response to the pressure. “Rico, please.”
Enrico let Carlo go with a shove that pushed him back into his chair. “You disgust me.”
Carlo straightened his suit. “Likewise.”
“This discussion is over,” Enrico said. He turned to go.
“Wait,” Dom said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s be gentlemen, shall we?” He looked at all of them in turn.
Enrico crossed his arms. “What do you propose we do? Settle this with pistols at ten paces?”
“Carlo asked for something. The woman aside, do you think it fair compensation?”
Enrico breathed in deeply. He uncrossed his arms. “Both meatpacking and jewelry? Too much.”
“My nephew’s death is no small thing.”
“You were willing to cuckold him just minutes ago. Your mourning is touching.”
Carlo waved his cigar in the air as he chuckled. “You may have a point.”
“So,” Dom said, “what can we agree on?”
“I’m willing to part with half of each. No more.”
Carlo considered it. “What of my justice regarding the woman?”
“She stays with me. And you agree her debt is paid.”
“What about my Delfina?” Dario asked.
Enrico hated his answer, but they needed a marriage to cement things. “I’ll marry her, if you still want that. But I keep Kate. Discreetly.” If she’ll still have me.
Dario looked at Carlo. Carlo puffed on his cigar, squinting against the smoke. “You can keep your whore. But Delfina must not be aware of it.”
“Are we through here?” Enrico asked.
“Add the Fiat dealership, and we’re done.”
“Agreed.”
They did not shake on the deal, settling it with curt nods.
But Enrico had the feeling nothing had been settled at all. Why hadn’t Carlo asked for a discount on the wash? Carlo’s demands had centered on territory. And Kate. That wasn’t like the man he knew. Carlo was up to something.
He conferred briefly with Dom outside the house, telling him he was taking Kate to see Don Battista.
“I don’t think our padrino is going to like the idea of you keeping her.”
“I’ll listen to what he says, but Kate stays with me, if she and I wish it.”
“You would disobey him?”
“I’ll make him understand.”
His cousin shook his head. “What has gotten into you?”
Love. That was the only answer. “I won’t be happy without her.”
Dom sighed. “When will you be back?”
“Three or four days. It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how it goes. And if my father is still there.”
“You’re flying down then?”
Enrico nodded. “I’ll let you know when we’re returning.”
“Take your time. You look tired, Rico.” Dom’s eyes were heavy with concern.
Enrico sighed and rubbed his face. “I am. More than you know.”
Dom clapped him on the back and saw him to the Mercedes. “Ciao, Rico.” They embraced, Dom squeezing him much more tightly than Enrico expected.
“So we are friends again,” Enrico said when they parted.
“We never weren’t.” Dom held his eyes. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done because you’re my brother.” His voice quavered and he coughed, then shook his head. “You have that thick Lucchesi head, you know. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t try to shake sense into you.”
Enrico nodded, his throat so tight he could barely speak. “Mille grazie, brother.” He turned and got in the car before his eyes filled with tears.
He let his head loll back against the seat as Ruggero drove them home. Hope warmed his chest. At least one good thing had come from this relentless day. He had his best friend back by his side.
He should be glad too that the fight with Carlo was over. Though the cost, the loss of Kate as his wife… it was far too much to pay. But she was safe. That was the important part.
Of course, there was no guarantee Carlo wouldn’t find another excuse to go after them, sooner or later. Or no excuse at all.