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He sat perfectly still, a statue, as he thought this over. “What if I can’t help you?”
“I thought you could find anyone.”
“No, I can always find you.”
I went back to the stove and relit the burner. The risotto could probably be saved. “You’re saying you can’t figure out who was responsible.”
“I’m saying it’s been four years and if your father believes the party responsible is dead, then I’m inclined to believe it.”
“I’m not willing to bet my life on that. I’ll sleep easier once I know who did it.”
“You think your father would risk your life so casually?”
“No, of course not.” I rolled my shoulders. “He wants me back in Siderno, so I think he doesn’t care whether the party responsible is dead or not.”
“So, go back to Siderno. Have your father help you find these people.”
“I won’t put my family at risk.”
He started chuckling. “Giulio, your father is the risk. The money, the empire. Not you.”
Back to this. Alessio believed a low-level associate of my father planted the bomb as a retaliation. I was more inclined to believe it was personal against me.
But it didn’t matter. The bastards had killed Paolo and I would make them pay.
“If someone murdered your nonna,” I asked him quietly, “would you let it go? Would you assume they were dead, or care whether the target was really you or not?”
He sighed heavily. “No, I wouldn’t. I would hunt them down and peel the skin from their bones.”
I gestured with my free hand. “Now you understand. Paolo was a good man. I loved him. I wanted to spend my life with him—and he was blown to bits in front of my face. I can’t stop until those responsible suffer.”
His lips pressed together before he took another sip of wine. I concentrated on the risotto. I hoped Alessio said yes. Because of his job, he had resources I didn’t. And maybe he’d notice something new if he looked at the information I had gathered on the bombing.
I had to believe it might help.
“Fine,” he said, sounding less than certain. “I’ll try to help in exchange for four weeks.”
I added butter to the pan to finish the risotto. “Good. Then I’ll hold off on adding poison to your dish.” Over my shoulder, I added, “At least for today.”
He merely sighed. “I need to call Sasha.”
“Who is Sasha?”
“My assistant.”
“And here I thought you worked alone. I feel disappointed. It’s like when they pull back that curtain in Wizard of Oz.”
His face screwed in confusion. “Cosa?”
“Wizard of Oz. Haven’t you seen it?”
“When I was a boy, maybe. What does a curtain have to do with my assistant?”
I grabbed bowls out of the cupboard. “Nothing. You are a real ray of sunshine sometimes, no?”
Pain suddenly radiated through my ass cheek as a loud crack sounded. I narrowly avoided dropping the bowls in my hand. He’d slapped my ass? I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. “Ma che cazzo!”
Alessio was practically grinning as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. “That is for the ray of sunshine comment.” Then he walked out of the kitchen.
