Page 61 of Thin Lives

“Cal’s involvement with the Irish family had been very little before his accident, and clearly it didn’t end well.”

Dante cocked a single brow, and it came off entirely patronizing when he said, “Am I to assume that all the effort Calisto put into breaching the walls the Irish boss put up between the two families and the meeting he set up was all for nothing? From my understanding, Connor O’Neil had taken issue with Affonso, not the rest of his family or his acting boss.”

“I—”

Dante’s hand flew up, silencing Ray instantly. “And I didn’t call this meeting to discuss those issues with Affonso’s underboss. I called this meeting to talk with the man who had headed the family then, and who is heading it now.”

Calisto froze on the spot, taking in Dante’s words.

He had essentially said Calisto had headed the Donati family months ago, just before his accident. Repeatedly, Calisto asked why he had been the one to set up the meeting with the Irish boss, only to get little to no answers in response. Affonso had been out of state—or country—apparently.

A vacation.

No boss needed a stand-in—or rather, a man to head his family as the boss—for a fucking vacation.

Dante passed Calisto a look, a grin edging at the corner of his mouth. “You look as if you just realized something.”

Calisto glanced to the side, taking in Ray’s clenched fists and scowl.

He had realized something.

It was important.

More lies, he knew.

“I think I may have.” Calisto took a step forward, once again making his rank clear when he held up a hand to keep Ray from moving with him. “Let’s chat some more.”

Dante nodded once. “Let’s do that, Donati.”

“Cal, wait a second!”

Ray’s hand clamped down on Calisto’s shoulder and grabbed tightly. He tried to pull Calisto, as if to spin him around, but it only pissed Calisto off more.

Calisto turned fast on his heel, grabbing Ray’s hand in his own and squeezing the man’s fingers until he heard bones crunch. The shout of shocked-filled pain that Ray let loose did little to bother Calisto as he kept squeezing tighter and forcing Ray’s wrist to bend backward at an awkward angle.

In the middle of the restaurant parking lot, Calisto forced Ray on his knees.

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” Calisto snarled. “I’m not some little bitch-boy you’ll push around, Ray. Is that clear?”

Wolf stood a few paces back, watching the scene with an almost disinterested expression. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and glanced over his shoulder, unbothered.

Calisto’s attention went right back to Ray. “A fucking vacation, right?”

Ray cussed under his breath, but didn’t try to fight Calisto’s hold. “W-what?”

“A vacation, asshole.”

“I don’t know what you’re talk—”

“Affonso. His vacation, Ray. That’s what both you and he told me when I came out of that goddamn coma and couldn’t remember anything. He was on vacation. That’s why I was where I was. That’s why the Irish came after me and not him. His vacation. Do you need me to spell it out for you, cafone?”

“That’s what it was,” Ray mumbled, wincing when Calisto squeezed his fingers again and bent his wrist further back.

A little more and it would snap.

It wasn’t all that hard to break a man’s wrist.

“You’re a liar,” Calisto said quietly, his tone darkening with his rage. “And he’s a fucking liar, too. I think the more likely truth is that Affonso ran because he started shit with someone and couldn’t clean up the mess. And where did that leave me? Heading his family and fixing his fucking problems. Whatever problems he had with Connor O’Neil. And that’s why they came after me. It wasn’t a goddamn vacation. He ran like a coward.”