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Vincenzo
Emilio's number lit up on the display of my phone for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. I didn't usually keep him waiting, if only because, in the back of my mind, there was always the chance that someone was in trouble and needed help. But in this case, I was sure it was about something else.
And this something bore the name Taddeo Santoro. And he wanted to know how the first night with my new wife had gone.
I could only shake my head at that. Was it becoming customary again to monitor newlyweds during their first night to ensure the marriage was consummated? An unenthusiastic sound escaped me.
He had already hinted at wanting proof of this, and something told me he would not let go of this notion. Why was he so sure that Amedea had entered into the marriage a virgin? She was old enough to have had more than one relationship. And just because she had hidden from her father didn't mean she had hidden from all men.
I wasn't interested, but that her father was itching to find out this information made me wonder.
Was he pursuing more than his interest in marriage? Was he concerned about the descendants he wanted so badly because he had not fathered any sons and did not want to bequeath his fortune to a woman?
The more I thought about it, the worse my opinion of Taddeo became. In so far as that was possible. After all, he had not made a good impression from the first minute – not even initially, several years ago, and even less so when he had strolled into Emilio's office and made demands.
My cell phone rang again, and this time I knew I couldn't put off talking to my brother any longer. With a sigh, I picked up and put the phone on speaker.
"Did you not catch the first three calls, or should I be worried?" he began without a word of greeting. Not unusual for our phone calls. I tended to leave out all the unnecessary stuff anyway, and at some point, my younger brother had gotten into the habit of doing the same.
Like many things, he had picked up during my time as mafia boss. Whether this made him more or less a better leader remained to be seen.
"I didn't feel like talking," I replied truthfully. It was no use lying to him when he could already guess I had ignored him.
"Of course. I had to talk a lot today because of that. Do you want to guess with whom?"
"Taddeo Santoro," I growled.
I imagined Emilio nodding and staring out at the rose garden because he didn't know how to continue the conversation. Yet I knew exactly how it would go. In some respects, Delphi's Oracle was no competition for me.
"Good, then we can skip that part already."
What other parts were there to discuss? I suspected nothing good.
"Just tell me what it's about."
"You could come here and talk to me about it in private," he suggested.
"Right, and leave her alone up here in the mountains."
"She's an adult and in a massive villa, right? Unless the rare case occurs and a UFO falls out of the sky and sucks her in with a laser beam, she should be safe."
"Mmm," I mumbled, unenthusiastic about the sarcasm inherent in his voice.
Emilio had no idea. And if he had… well, better he remained ignorant.
"I'm not coming to Naples. Just tell me now what the problem is."
"He insists on proof. If you don't provide it, he threatens to… well, the threat is serious and should not be disregarded."
"Emilio," I groaned.
Was he serious? Had he not learned from the last few years? And what kind of boss was he if he let himself be blackmailed by a runaway idiot like Taddeo Santoro?
Could he really not be left without supervision at all?
"What?"
"What is he threatening?"
