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What else do I say? I let him guide me into the dining room. The food is better than any Michelin star restaurant, and I laugh so hard my cheeks hurt by the end of the meal. But reality crashes over me when the men finish the second round of dishes and head toward a hallway.
“Come on,piccolina.”
I push back my chair, unsure why Gabriele is holding out his hand. None of the other women are leaving the dining room table, and I didn’t think I’d be part of any meeting involving just the other men. I entwine my fingers with his and follow him into an enormous den-cum-office. Matteo’s just closed the door when someone knocks. Seeing him in person, I recognize the man from photos at Paola’s house.
“Sorry I missed dinner.”
Cesare says no more, and I get the feeling no one’s going to ask why. I glance at Carmine, but he seems unfazed. I know Cesare and Paola have— an agreement. Maybe it was work that kept him, or maybe he was with someone else. I’m curious, but I’m not nosey enough to ask Gabriele.
I sweep my gaze around the room. There’s an enormous old-fashioned wood desk that looks like it belongs in the Oval Office. There are three sofas and four arms chairs scattered around three sides of the desk. Domenico and Cesare sit on one sofa while Lorenzo and Luca share another. Massimo, Carmine, and Matteo take chairs. If I weren’t there, I think Marco would race Gabriele for the last sofa, but he takes the last chair while Gabriele and I sit on the free sofa. The men fill the room, and what felt large a moment ago feels nearly bursting at the seams.
Salvatore holds his hand out as he speaks.
“Gabriele, you watched the video already. Let me connect it for everyone else to see.”
Gabriele passes the dashcam to Salvatore. I hadn’t realized it was in his pocket, but it’s smaller than I’d originally expected. Salvatore connects it to his computer while Massimo turns on a TV. I watch as TV and computer sync, then the video starts.
I lean forward as I watch the car with the camera pull up to where the construction site still stands. The engine turns off, and someone gets out. But I don’t hear the door close. Voices are pretty clear, so the car windows must have been open too. The driver walks in front of the car, and some other guy comes from the right. They step near a fence around a loading area and wait underneath a towering spotlight. There’s lumber inside the fencing with the construction site on the other side.
Salvatore fast forwards until we see them moving again. The time stamp shows they waited five minutes, then they head back to their cars, and I hear trunks slam. They’re carrying boxes to the loading area, and one of them picks the fence’s lock. They go inside for fifteen minutes. Again, Salvatore fast forwards, and the time stamp lets me know how long they’re in there.
“Asshole’s not coming. Let’s go.”
It was the driver of the dashcam car who speaks. The two guys head back to the vehicle when headlights flash in front of the camera.
“Finally.”
I think that was the second guy who came from a different car. It’s dark outside, so it’s hard to see until the new man walks up to the other two. I think Gabriele is gorgeous, but this guy rivals him. He could be a fucking Armani model. Dark hair that looks black in the dim light. But his blue eyes stand out, and they’re a similar color to mine. I had an ex-boyfriend call me the Ice Princess during the fight that broke us up. He said my eyes were the same color as the ice running through my veins.
There are no greetings. The new guy gets straight to the point.
“You know what you’re doing, right?”
The accent. It’s Russian. I’m certain of it. I glance around, and I can tell all the men in the room knew who this was before he spoke. I twist to see Gabriele.
“Aleksei Kutsenko.”
I recognize the last name, but I don’t know who this guy is. I keep watching.
“Yeah. We’ve worked construction for the Mancinellis before. We’ve seen it done.”
“Seen it? That isn’t the same as doing it. You told Jacek you’ve done demolition before.”
“We set the fuse and leave.”
“No.”
The guy twists toward the lumberyard before he looks back at the two men I realize are barely more than teenagers. They’re the ones who died in the explosion. The Russian keeps speaking.
“Leave. We aren’t doing this. You lied and don’t know how to do this. I won’t be responsible for you blowing yourselves up. I want Scotto in prison for life, not me on trial for manslaughter. Go.”
The owner of the dashcam steps forward, posturing with a lot more bravado than he should have.
“No one’s gonna know you had anything to do with this. Just like they aren’t gonna know we did, either.”
Aleksei shoves the kid, and he falls back against the hood.
“You’re useful for now. Don’t change my mind.”
