Page 55 of Venomous Throne

One final kiss, and he’d slipped away after I fell asleep. Out the door. Not making a single sound. By the time I gathered my wits and grabbed a robe, the house was silent.

Vincenzo caught me tiptoeing through the kitchen. He thought he’d heard the door but decided it was just a gust of Chicago’s famous wind.

Little did he know.

“Isabella?”

I tore my mind from the nocturnal memories, and my head snapped up. “Yes?”

“Do we strike?” Joseph tapped his finger against the printing of the warehouse at the end of the street.

My bottom lip slid between my teeth. They gnawed on the pillowy flesh.

“We do…and we don’t.” I lifted my gaze.

The capos frowned.

Gathered in the home office, the space was tight with four men. I’d invited Vincenzo, even though the lad said he didn’t want the status of capo. He politely refused, saying he needed to finish supper. Reluctantly, I didn’t force him to join this meeting. Another night, I promised myself. I only had three right now, and that wasn’t enough to manage the soldiers. Franky was devoted to protecting me. I needed just one more to balance the leadership. But if Vincenzo didn’t want to control a group of soldiers, there had to be something else he could do. I was bound and determined to promote the kid. I could feel it in my bones. He had the grit that this life required.

“What do you mean, donna?” Franky drummed his fingers on the armchair.

I plucked a game piece—the hat from a Monopoly Game set—and set it on the warehouse. Bonetti controlled that portion of the neighborhood, the farthest area from where we were located. It disgusted me that he’d positioned himself there, right in the worst streets. The ones I had plans to clean up. I couldn’t begin the work over there until the roaches were gone.

“We have an enemy of our enemy. Let’s use him,” I said, gesturing to the hat.

Three pairs of eyes looked at me. Franky squeezed his shut as laughter racked his frame. “You want to manipulate the Blood King!”

“I do. We aren’t strong enough to take Bonetti on headfirst. We don’t have the manpower. But Mancini does. We’ll make an alliance with him.”

“How do you propose sending the Blood King into our territory to attack unprovoked?” Joseph rubbed his chin.

“Or will you provoke him?” Michele pressed.

I didn’t like that eager look in his eye.

“Very few people know what that warehouse hides,” Donnie grumbled. “To the world, it’s an abandoned stack of ancient real estate. If you tell Don Mancini what is really there, and he strikes, the underworld will know you betrayed your famiglia.”

“Not if Mancini strikes second. Everyone will assume he discovered a means to revenge,” I urged.

“It could work,” Franky offered helpfully.

“We will wait for Bonetti to do something stupid. Send a whisper through the ranks that Marco’s death needs avenging. It won’t take more than the smallest of sparks to light that fuse. When Bonetti acts up—which he will, even if his men don’t pressure him—we’ll deliver a gift to the Blood King.” I picked up the Monopoly hat, tapped it three times on the warehouse, and then tossed it back in the pile of pieces.

This war was one of brains, not brawn. I would manipulate every minor detail to our advantage, force pieces into play that might otherwise seem irrelevant. And so, our little operation would survive. Then it would thrive.

In the end, we would conquer.

“That’s settled,” Donnie mused.

“I hate waiting,” Michele grumped.

“There’s plenty to be done in the meantime,” I reminded him. Already we’d discussed the plans which I’d spoken to Father Donelli about. None of the capos were eager to roll up their sleeves, but they saw the benefit that some manual labor would produce.

“There’s another matter of business,” Joseph said.

Something in his tone made my spine stiffen. “Yes?”

“There’s that certain gentleman you were seen with,” the capo began.