Page 155 of A War Around Us


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I grinned, surprised he even announced his annoyance out loud to meet in person. But by the looks of his freckled bald head, and the weakness to hold his own weight in trembling limbs, I was more surprised if Chicago didn’t have his coffin ready.

My eyes caught the man behind him. His son, Mateo Russo. I returned his curt nod with Alonzo’s words playing in my head.Guess I’m not the only one who traveled with their underboss.

Seeing Mateo for the first time, age ready for his father’s seat, I questioned his title as capo even more..

“Business couldn’t wait,” I replied to Stefano.

“We should take a seat,” he said loudly for everyone to hear. “I’m sure Borelli will be in shortly.”

I dismissed Stefano’s arrogance. I wasn’t here to make Chicago an enemy even if his ruler had no manners to address me.

We all followed Stefano and sat in silence. The wedge and ties between families was clear.

Mario Vitelli and Stefano Russo; New York and Chicago.

Alonzo Costa and I; Las Vegas and Miami.

As I sat between them, I could finally see it in person. The reason I had agreed to marry into the Vitelli family aside from my own immoral desires.

The shift of votes now played in my favor. My word now carried power between families. I couldn’t lose, and it was an addictive feeling.

In the middle of the table, a large spread of cheeses, roasted crackers, dried meats, and endless grapes laid for picking. Only Stefano dug in as if it was a meal. A glass of water rested next to an empty wineglass, and a knock broke through Stefano’s chewing.

Vitelli’s man walked to the door and allowed the pixie haired waitress to step inside with him close in tow. Mindy pushed a small cart of wine bottles inside a metal bucket of ice with eyes that couldn’t meet anyone in particular.

Could she sense the killers of which she neared? The sin and danger that sat before her?

The young brunette cleared her throat. “I will be leaving the bottles for you all to enjoy without any further interruptions.” She cast a look behind her before she continued, “But before I do, I will go over the five top selections I’ve brought with me.” Mindy cleared her throat again with another leering glance behind.

Poor kid. She’d stepped into a world even her imagination couldn’t comprehend.

“The first is a thirty-year aged—”

“Just pour them,” Stefano Russo mumbled.

She cowered, and Stefano’s eyes glimmered happily at its sight.Mio Dio, this was hard to watch. The fear in her eyes, the twisting of her fingers, the hesitation to move forward, all while causing excitement to others.

The waitress nodded and made her way to Stefano. Vitelli’s goon let her go as Mateo neared, escorting her to his father. A bit overkill. I was sure Arlo felt the same because once she went over the wines and finished pouring Stefano’s choice of wine, Arlo only followed her small steps to us with his eyes.

I hadn’t planned on another drink until my return to Miami, but after hearing a certain bottle, my interest won.

“Thank you,” I said after smooth red filled my glass.

She smiled timidly and walked a few steps to Alonzo.

I took a gentle breath in as my lips touched the brim and took a sip.

It was a blend made from the fields in Tuscany. Aged with fermented grapes with a bold and yet subtle hint of ripecherries. The wine played with my tongue as I pulled the glass away. Silky, tart, alluring. Not dry enough for my taste but its sweet savory elegance reminded me of someone who would. Someone who I could enjoy such glass with if only in their presence.

Fuck.

I placed the glass down.

Vitelli’s leery eyes followed the girl all the way to the door, and when she left the silence returned.

My watch read ten minutes after. If Pietro Borelli didn’t walk through the door in five minutes, the meeting would come to an end. No words would be exchanged, and I would have to move through my plan without a clear wage of repercussions. But before my mind had the chance to begin its course of countermoves, the bastard walked in.

Tall, in an all-black suit that matched his eyes and contrasted against his full white hair, Pietro Borelli made his entrance. His son, Tino, was nowhere in sight.

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