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Bastian
I wrap up my call with Jarno and find my brother in his study swallowing the whiskey in his glass like it’s water. He’s looking out the window over the back garden, the swimming pool, and beyond to the vast blue sea.
“Hey,” I say to let him know I’m here. He’s clearly distracted.
“Hey.” He turns around.
“How was the meeting?” Earlier in the day, he met with Bruno regarding a tip.
“It’s vague but based on chatter, Sonny is planning an attack soon.”
“What’s new about that?”
His forehead is furrowed. “I’m moving things forward.”
“Forward how?” I ask, sitting down.
“You’ll go to New York to get the sister tonight.”
“Tonight?”
He nods.
“What happened to you?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
He shifts his gaze to the half-empty bottle of whiskey on his desk and pours me a glass, then replenishes his own.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling dread in my gut.
“Nothing.”
“It’s something. What?”
“I don’t think we should both be gone.”
“But you think bringing another Russo here is a good idea?”
“If her sister is here, Vittoria will be more malleable. Amenable.”
He means the marriage. “Getting cold feet?” I ask.
He drinks from his glass, looking far off again.
“What the fuck happened tonight, Amadeo?”
It takes him a minute to meet my eyes. “I kissed her.”
I stare at him. I know my brother. I know him well. And in the few times he’s talked about women, no single name stands out, and he doesn’t kiss them. Claims it’s too intimate. I get it. I don’t feel the same, but I get it. The night in the restaurant when he kissed Vittoria was for show. Or supposed to be. But I’d seen something in it then, and now I know it wasn’t in my head.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing. Just got carried away,” he says. Doesn’t sound like he believes it any more than I do, though.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” I say.
“Anyway, with Lucien upping security around the sister and now the chatter with Sonny, I just want to get things done sooner rather than later.”
“When is the wedding taking place?”
“Tonight.”
