AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I take the opportunity to grab him and slam him up against the brick wall, my forearm across his throat.
Julian stares at me, eyes wide as saucers. “Do you prefer roses?” he manages, before I lean harder against his throat.
I glare into his face. “You are fucking crazy, Castellani, you know that? A real goddamn psychopath.”
“Not officially diagnosed,” he croaks.
The cocking of a gun behind me demands my attention. I turn to see Alessandro Castellani in the open doorway to this strange, sick dungeon, his sights trained on me. His face is hard and unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite identify.
“Let him go,” he says quietly. “It’s time for us to talk.”
I reluctantly release Julian and take a step back, my eyes never leaving Sandro’s. He’s the one I’m really worried about right now, the one I know I’ll have to watch. Julian might be crazy, but I know how he likes to fuck around. Sandro is an unknown quantity to me, and that makes him dangerous.
Julian coughs and rubs his throat, fixing me with an injured glare. “I brought you extra blankets and everything,” he mutters. “Some thanks I get.”
I ignore him. “We can talk,” I say to Sandro, forcing myself to sound calm. “But first, I want to see Roxy.”
“That can be arranged,” Sandro says, putting his gun away. He motions for me to follow him. I hesitate for a moment, then fall into step behind him as he leads me out of the dungeons. Julian follows along behind, and I swear I feel him glaring at the back of my head. Or maybe it’s just the throbbing from Jacopo’s hit.
I reach back to touch my skull gingerly, and find my hand slapped away.
“Don’t,” Julian hisses.
I turn as I walk and glare at him for a moment. “Fuck you.”
“Just stop poking at it,” he insists, as I turn back and keep walking.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he soundsworried.
CHAPTER33
LEO
We comeout of the passage into a study, which I know used to belong to Ciro Castellani, the old Don, before he was murdered. It’s spacious and luxurious, with ornate furniture and a bunch of landscape paintings on the walls. The bookshelves are filled with books about Hollywood, and there’s more than one recognizable award standing on the shelves as well. And there’s a blood stain on the desk, the kind that will never come out.
“Julian,” the new Don says. “Go and call the doctor to check over Mr. Bernardi now that he’s awake.”
“You call him,” Julian says stubbornly. “I’m staying with Leo.”
Sandro gets this look of exasperation around the eyes. He raises his voice. “Pedretti.”
The door opens and Max Pedretti walks in. I know him. Good man, all told, despite being a Castellani. In his forties, with salt and pepper hair, Pedretti stands confidently in the doorway, dressed in a tailored suit, shoes shining like twin disco balls on his feet. Must be an effect of that promotion he got recently, because he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to worry so much about his shoes.
“You want the Doc, Boss?” he guesses. He gives me a polite nod, and I give one back out of habit.
Sandro gives his assent in a tired sort of voice, and then gestures for me to take a seat. He sits behind the desk, leaning forward, gun to the right of him, and he takes me in. “I’m sorry to be in this situation, Mr. Bernardi. And I must admit to you, I’m not sure what to do about it. But I don’t intend for anyone else to be hurt or killed. That includes Ms. Rochford—and you.”
He gives Julian a nod, and Julian takes out his phone and swipes through it for a few seconds. Then he shows me some pictures of two dead guys on the screen.
“Do you recognize these men?” Sandro asks.
I frown as I take them in. “Sure. Couple of Castellani soldiers, aren’t they? From one of your crews that bumps up against the port.”
“I was wondering if they might have been turned.” Sandro says it so casually, but I can tell he’s watching me closely.
“Turned?”
“You know what I mean.”
