Page 153 of Fallen Rook

“Where ya think you’re goin’?” the meatiest, ugliest one asked.

“Tell Luca I’m here to see him. Tom Rothwell.”

He scowled but made the call. A few minutes later, I walked out of the elevator to be greeted by five more soldiers. They frisked me, taking extra time because I was a fed, and it was exciting. When it was obvious I wasn’t carrying, they ushered me into the apartment. Luca’s place was bigger and swankier than his brothers’, but unlike Enzo’s and Achilles’s condos, it looked depressingly empty. Not of expensive furniture or highbrow decor, but of a soul.

Enzo and Achilles lived in places soaked with laughter, love, and affection.

Luca lived in a cold, hostile place suited for his personality.

I was admiring the art on the walls when the eldest Ferrante brother emerged from his office. He was in a suit, put together, but his eyes were bloodshot. “Agent Rothwell.”

“Mr. Ferrante.”

“How can I help you?”

“You can’t. But if you play your cards right, I might help you.”

He flashed me a derisive smirk. “Was fucking one Ferrante brother not enough for you, Rothwell? You had to see if another would be willing?”

The days-long strain, along with the general edginess of not having Enzo next to me, all gathered into this one moment. I grabbed Luca by the throat, smashing him against his precious abstract Emilia Spencer painting. “You watch your fucking mouth when you speak about Enzo.”

Luca’s empty eyes flattened further. “Cut the shit, Rothwell. I know my brother is a romantic, but there’s no way in hell a jaded, damaged FBI agent actually fell for him.”

“You gonna whine like a little bitch or hear what I have to say?” My fingers tightened around his throat. Fool. He thought just because I wasn’t carrying, I couldn’t kill him? Rookie mistake.

But Luca looked so irrevocably unbothered that he didn’t seem worried about dying at all. “Just making an observation.” His face reddened as I cut off his air supply. “But if you do have feelings for my brother, killing his don is probably not a great way to get him back.”

I loosened my grip on his neck, stepping back.

“You have something to discuss with me?” He fixed his collar, unruffled. “We’ll do it over a game of chess. It helps me think more clearly.”

Ten minutes later, we were in his office, arranging the pieces on a board. We flipped a coin. I got to be white. My first move was sliding the king pawn two squares forward, clearing the way for my queen and bishop.

“Very Bobby Fischer-y.” Luca let loose a patronizing smile, eyeing his pawns. His smile held the unnatural quality of an AI character trying to imitate a human. He still hadn’t asked me why I was here. He moved his knight to f3.

“How’s business?” I asked.

He shrugged noncommittedly.

“How long do you think you can keep this going?”

“Long,” he said confidently. “My father-in-law just granted me a nice loan. I can out-survive you, if I wish to.”

If he wishes to? Interesting…

“Can you solve a mystery for me, Luca?”

“I’m sure I can. Whether I choose to do so is yet to be determined.”

“You’re a gifted chess player. A rational genius. Always seven steps ahead. Yet you couldn’t foresee any of the calamities that have befallen you. Not the Bratva, not the FBI, not even your catastrophe of a marriage.”

His jaw twitched when I listed his last failure. He tapped the side of the chessboard rhythmically.

“What makes you think I haven’t anticipated all three?” he asked indulgently.

“The fact that your life is a shit show.”

“It is,” he agreed. “By design.”