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“Dad’s dead.”
“You could have told me that over the phone.”
She hands me the envelope. I read the front. “To be opened in person by my surviving children in the event of my death.Why?”
She shrugs. “Maybe he wanted us to be together for once. You know how much family meant to him.”
“You could have opened it. He’s not around to care.”
She shakes her head. “I want to do this right. Plus, I wanted to come and see you.”
“Check I’m not dead yet, you mean?”
“All right, yes. I worry about you, Leo. Rattling around here on your own all these years.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got Sergio and Barb.”
“A gardener and an Alsatian don’t count. I hate to see you out here, wasting away with Mom’s old dog and a few servants, drinking yourself to death because you still feel guilty about something that wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t start that again. We’ve been over this plenty of times.”
“All right.” She holds her hands up. “I’m sorry. Are you going to open it, or shall I?”
I tear open the envelope. Inside is a letter written in my father’s hand. “I, Don Romeo Barone, Godfather of the Barone Famiglia, leave the entirety of my empire to my surviving son, Leonardo, under the rules of primogeniture, excepting the house known as Windswept, and the contents of my Swiss account which go to providing for my daughter, Beatrice. The sole condition is that Leonardo must be married to Anna Caruso within one calendar month of the date of my death. If he should remain unwed after that time, the entirety of the estate, businesses, accounts, properties and all other physical and virtual material goods will go to the Caruso Famiglia.”
“What the fuck?” Bea says. “It doesn’t say that, does it?”
“Read it for yourself.”
I pass her the letter. She runs her eyes down the page, finishing off the final part that I’d yet to reach. “Leo, bet you’re wondering why I’m doing this, right? Well, Paolo Caruso stole five hundred thousand from our casino in Atlantic City. Details are in the file. He thought I didn’t notice. I did. I let it go because it gives me the excuse I need to get him without the Commission getting involved.
“Don’t think I ever forgave him for the crash. I was simply biding my time. That is what a good Don does. He waits for the right time for everything. You’re Don now. You will pick the right moment to kidnap Paolo’s daughter, Anna. You will take her in lieu of the debt. You will marry her. Do whatever you want with her but make sure her father hears all about it. Make it hurt.”
She stops, looking up at me. “He underlined hurt three times.” She folds the letter, exhaling slowly.
“He didn’t mean it,” I say with a shake of my head. “He was losing it at the end. Didn’t know what he was doing. It’s the only possible explanation.”
She takes the letter and slide it back into the envelope. “He knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Come on, Bea. I get married to the daughter or Don Caruso gets everything? That can’t be legally binding.”
“I bet it is. He’ll have had Michael seal it in stone. He did it to force your hand. Knew you wouldn’t leave the island unless there was a very good reason. What better reason than saving our entire fortune?”
“I’m not leaving here, Bea. Not for some bullshit marriage to our worst fucking enemy.”
“If you don’t, we lose everything, including this house and everything in it.” She puts a hand out toward me. “We can’t lose this place, Leo. We were brought up here. It’s still got echoes of Mom and Antonio in the walls. I can handle losing Windswept but not here.” Her hand finds my knee. “Please, Leo. We can’t let Caruso take this place from us.”
“What’s in the file?”
She rips the seal covering the front, passing the contents to me. I flick through the pages. “Shots of Paolo Caruso’s Capos in the casino. Witness statements about the methods they used to cheat. Full accounts of every cent taken and when it was stolen. The total added up at the end. Five hundred thousand over two years.”
“How is that Don Caruso’s fault?” she asks. “Surely his Capos deserve the punishment, not him.”
“He pays his people shit and turns a blind eye when they make up the difference by robbing the other families. This is on him.”
I turn the page. There’s a photo that throws me. “Who’s that?” Bea asks as I stare at the image in front of me.
“Huh?” I’m struck by the eyes. It’s a black and white picture of a woman in her early twenties. She’s pretty but I’ve seen a lot of pretty girls over the years.
