Page 143 of The Don’s Omega

The front door opens before I can knock and a tall, broad-shouldered man steps outside. He’s probably in his forties, with close-cropped dark hair and a face that doesn’t give much away. His gaze moves over me once, quick and assessing. I catch a glimpse of a gun holstered at his waist beneath his jacket.

“Can I help you?” He studies me.

“I’m here to see Salvatore.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No.” I shift under his piercing gaze. “Can you tell him Elio Foschini is here to see him?”

“Wait here.” He steps back inside and closes the door.

A few minutes later the door opens again and Salvatore stands there. “Elio.” He beams, obviously taken aback to see me on his doorstep. “My dear boy, this is such a surprise.”

“Sorry to just drop in on you.” I’m relieved he doesn’t look unhappy to see me. Just surprised.

He waves me off. “It’s fine. Come in. Turi should have let you in. He’s overly protective of me.” He steps aside and I enter the house. “Let’s go into the sitting room. The fire is lit so it’s nice and cozy.”

I follow him down a dim hallway hung with old scenic oil paintings and into a sitting room that smells like woodsmoke and leather. He settles in a brown armchair near the fire and I take the one across from him.

He studies me. “How’ve you been? Pregnancy going well?”

“Everything is good so far.” I smile. “I figured I’d come visit since Marcello is on another one of his trips.”

His eyes flicker. “Is he? He’s out of town?”

“Yep, he left this morning.” I grimace. “That’s why I thought this would be the perfect time to come visit you.”

He face relaxes as he sits back in his chair, nodding. “How long will he be gone?”

“Just a few days.”

“I see.” He gives a funny laugh. “I assume he has no idea you came to see me.”

“No. I didn’t tell him.”

“Interesting.” He nods. “So, what brings you here?”

I’m confused that he wouldn’t know why I’m here. “Well, I’m here because I was wondering how it went with Naldo. You were having dinner with him the other night.” I hesitate. “Um… do you remember you offered to vouch for Marcello?”

“Of course I remember.”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “How… how did it go? Was he receptive?”

Instead of answering, he stands and goes to a tray nearby on a long table. “Would you like some chamomile tea? I just made it and was about to enjoy a cup.”

I hesitate, feeling frustrated. I really just want to know how it went with Naldo, but I don’t want to be rude. “Sure, tea would be great.”

“Wonderful. Tea is such a relaxing beverage, don’t you think?” He comes back with a china cup on a saucer.

I take the tea from him and rest the saucer and cup on my lap. He heads back to the teapot and he pours himself a cup. He returns to his chair, looking pleased as he crosses his legs. He blows on his tea and then takes a cautious sip, nodding his approval.

I also sample the tea, wincing because it’s hot. I’m not a fan of the tea, but refusing the beverage would be impolite. We sit in silence for a bit, sipping our tea and watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. I’m impatient to ask him about Naldo, but don’t want him to feel as if that’s the only reason for my visit. Even if it was.

A clock ticks somewhere in the silent room, and I try to think how to bring up Naldo again without it being too awkward. Salvatore is unusually easy to talk to but today the atmosphere between us is strained. The fact he didn’t answer my question about how it went with Naldo has me on edge. Did he not hear me or did he purposely not answer?

I clear my throat. “Sorry I didn’t call before dropping in on you. I was just dying to hear how it went with Naldo.”

He studies me. “And your curiosity got the best of you.”