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“No. It wasn’t safe.”
He made a dismissive noise in his throat. “Have I taught you nothing?”
“I wanted to be careful. And then . . . .”
“And then?” he prompted when I didn’t finish.
And then we tracked the Sicilians and went after Nino. “Can we discuss this later?”
“You and I will speak shortly. I expect answers.”
We came up the path. The castello was bathed in a golden yellow, casting the stone in almost an orange color. It was stunningly beautiful, and my chest expanded with pride. Though it wasn’t my legacy any longer, it was still in my blood.
The terrace door opened and a woman stepped out into the sun.
An obviously pregnant Frankie. And she was glaring at me.
“She’s very pissed at you,” my father said quietly. “Be prepared to grovel.”
He strode onto the terrace to meet her, bending to kiss her mouth. “Dolcezza, go easy on him,” I heard him say. Looking over his shoulder, Fausto said, “Sniper, with me.”
Wait, why did he wish to speak to Alessio? Alarm bells began going off in my brain. “Papà, wait. I will come with you.”
“No. Speak with Francesca first. I will speak with your ragazzo.”
“Ragazzo!” Frankie’s eyes filled with disbelief and hurt. “What the fuck, G?”
“Grovel, figlio mio,” my father called from inside the castello.
* * *
Alessio
My mouth was drier than the Kandahar desert as I followed Fausto Ravazzani into his home. Did he know? I could hardly breathe through the panic twisting in my throat.
Was I about to die?
I tried to distract myself with the surroundings. The castello was beautiful, exactly what one would expect for old world royalty like Ravazzani. And Giulio gave all this up? He must’ve loved Paolo very much to leave.
“In here.” Ravazzani held open a door for me.
I went in and found Marco Ravazzani sitting in a chair beside a large desk. I waited, unsure where to go. Was I allowed to sit? Was he going to shoot me here on the Persian carpet?
Ravazzani walked behind his desk and sat down. “Take a seat.”
I lowered myself into one of the armchairs facing the desk. I kept quiet, waiting, as Ravazzani leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers and rested them against his lips. His ice blue gaze never left my face. The color was exactly like Giulio’s, but these eyes held no warmth or sparkle. No hint of welcome.
I focused on keeping my heart rate low, as I did when I was on a job. Something told me this man would smell nervousness a kilometer away. But the longer the silence went on, the more worried I became.
“Do you think I don’t know who you are?” Ravazzani finally said.
I didn’t speak, unsure where this was going. Trepidation crawled across my neck, spiders of apprehension, but I held onto the hope that this wasn’t about the assassination attempt.
That hope withered as Ravazzani continued. “You see, I have learned a lot about Enzo D’Agostino since he began dating my sister-in-law. And Enzo, he likes the best. He has the money to afford it.”
I focused on pulling air into my lungs. In and out. In and out.
“For a long time I didn’t believe it was you,” Fausto said. “After all, you missed.”
