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I shrug. “I told you. He kept her in his room. I might have heard crying, but I don’t know more than that. Why?”
I’m putting faith in Lucia not having mentioned me, at least. There’s been ample opportunity for her to tell Pavone all about everything I did to her, but she didn’t even say my name when I’d murdered her father.
I guess she doesn’t want to see me dead, either. That’s gotta mean something, although I have no clue what.
“Just curious. I wanted to take her virgin cunt, but at least Corvi’s small dick didn’t ruin her too much. She’s fucking tight.”
I have to carefully suppress my amusement. There’s nothing virginal about Lucia. “Better for you, then,” I say, although I’m imagining slitting his throat. I’d do it while he’s about to stick his own limp dick into Lucia, coat her in his blood, and show Lucia a much, much better time.
For now, I have to ensure he doesn’t suspect how experienced Lucia really is. I still remember what he’d done to his other wife when she’d become useless to him…
Yeah, I’m not going to tell him shit.
“It’s just a shame I won’t have some nice, stained sheets to remember our wedding night by,” Pavone says. “But I couldn’t think of a reason not to fuck her since she’s already ruined. Maybe I’ll find some other way to make her bleed.”
I grit my teeth before I can catch myself, and I see Rossi eyeing me. It’s enough to make me calm right the fuck down, before either of them can catch the flash of anger the idea of Pavone hurting Lucia has sent through me. I can hurt her. No one else. Certainly not this fucker. If anyone’s going to see blood spilled over the sheets, it’s going to be me.
I force a laugh, though. “You’re creative enough, and it’s not like she’s going to argue.”
Pavone takes another sip of his whiskey, then sloshes it in my direction. Not actually drunk, but exaggerating his movements for my benefit. “Back to business though. You’re doing good work, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you completely. Seeing as how you used to be tight with Corvi.”
I keep calm, although I sure wish I had a gun on me. It doesn’t look like either Pavone or Rossi are armed, but that wouldn’t stop them from calling more men into the room and shooting me where I sit. It wouldn’t be the first time Pavone pulled something like that, after all.
“Sure. Makes sense,” I say, shrugging nonchalantly. “Trust takes time to build. But you’re the ones who recruited me.”
Pavone nods. “Yeah, yeah. I just thought we could discuss your continued stay here. I like you, Angelo. You’re filling a void left in my organization by Bellini’s incompetence.” He pauses for a second. “Were you the one who took out Al Capone?”
I have no idea what the safer answer is. I know I’m not going to tell them the truth, but I’m not interested in getting killed just for taking the blame, either. Neither Pavone nor Rossi give me any hint as to what they want to hear.
I can handle their anger better than Lucia, though.
Finally, I nod. “Yeah. I’d say sorry, but he really shouldn’t have shown up uninvited.”
“I suppose I can’t blame you for doing your job,” Pavone says thoughtfully, with another drink of whiskey.
At least he’s reasonable about that. I’m not sure Bellini would’ve been.
“You did so much for Corvi, didn’t you?” he goes on.
I tense, feeling like I’m being set up for something, but not having any idea where the trap is so I can avoid it. This whole little encounter has tried my patience enough. “I did a lot for him, yeah,” I agree.
“He was fortunate to have you after your brother died.”
I really don’t want to talk about Nico, but I’ve been part of the underworld long enough, and I’ve dealt with enough guys with power, that I know I can’t dictate anything right now. The powerlessness chafes. All I can do is clench my fists.
“Remind me again why Corvi’s in charge?” Pavone asks then. “You’d have been the natural first choice.”
Fuck. I can feel my blood pumping harder, the anger boiling under my skin. Memories of Nico’s last moments are threatening to come to the forefront.
“Nah,” I say, and I can hear the strange crack in my voice. “Vic—Corvi was already the consigliere. He’s great at wrangling people. I’m much better at putting bullets through their heads.”
“Makes sense, makes sense,” Pavone answers condescendingly, giving me a smarmy grin that I want to punch off his face. “How did Corvi join you guys anyway? He used to run with Alessi, didn’t he? What happened to him?”
I have no idea what Pavone is trying to do, dredging up the past, but it’s putting me on edge. “Yeah, Corvi worked for Alessi. Then he helped my brother take out Alessi, and I guess that was that.”
“Right, right. Got himself a nice promotion out of that.” Pavone finishes off his glass, then holds it out in Rossi’s direction. “Get me another, Damien.”
Without a complaint, Rossi gets up to get the whiskey bottle and refill Pavone’s glass. Only once it’s full again does Pavone go on.
