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“He doesn’t know? What if he says no?”
“Then he’s going to die,” Ajello barks. “Nino will come to get you at ten. He’ll be taking you to Naos.”
“Peachy. I’ll take Luna with me. And what—”
The line goes dead. I glance at the phone screen. It took me some time to adjust to the way Salvatore Ajello handles phone calls.
I shake my head and focus on the email again, going through the rest of the images, but they seem to be more of the same. Most are out of focus, probably taken with a phone camera in low light or while in motion. There’s only one clear photo. It shows Popov standing in a hotel lobby, maybe, his arm wrapped around the waist of a red-haired woman. He’s turned away from the camera, so his face is still not visible. At his side, the woman is focused on him. She looks like a movie star, dressed in a tight white dress, platinum blonde hair falling straight down her back nearly to her waist.
If that’s his type, he’s going to be rather disappointed. That woman has almost a foot on me. I also recently cut my hair, so it barely reaches the middle of my back, and I’ve never dyed it. I rather like its dark-brown hue, as plain as it is. It works better with my wardrobe anyway. I check the photos one more time in case I missed one where I could see his face, but nope. I guess I’ll have to wait for tonight to find out what my future husband looks like.
I grab my phone again and dial my best friend.
“Luna bella,” I chirp. “Do you feel like dancing tonight?”
I pick up my whiskey and lean back, contemplating the man sitting across from me in my booth.
During the years that I’ve cooperated with the Italians, I interacted with Arturo, Ajello’s underboss. Until the shitshow orchestrated by Rocco Pisano sent our working relationship straight to hell. It was good money, but I have no intention of dealing with the people who turned on me. I thought I was very clear in my message to Arturo—we’re done. It looks like I need to repeat myself to the don as well.
“I’m not interested in renewing our collaboration, Ajello.”
“Do you have another prospective business in your plans? Because I know for sure no one can supply the quantity and quality you used to get from us.”
“The thing is, I don’t need your drugs. My commerce in diamonds brings in triple the amount moving cocaine ever did.” I shrug.
“It’s not about the money. There’s too much bad blood between us, Mr. Popov. I can’t let you operate in my city unless the feud between our Families is settled.”
“Settled?” I take a sip of my drink and regard him. “And how do you plan we do that?”
“Marriage. Specifically, between you and a Cosa Nostra woman.”
Did he forget that his capo shot at me and my men while we were conducting a business meeting, and then sent his mercenaries to attack my club? It doesn’t matter that those mercenaries weren’t members of Cosa Nostra. Or that my men killed all three of them. It doesn’t even matter that Rocco Pisano is dead.
“We lost a man in that clusterfuck two years ago. It’s not something that can be settled by me marrying a cousin of one of your soldiers, Ajello.”
The don places his arms on the back of the sofa, observing me with a calculated look in his eyes. “I’m offering Arturo DeVille’s sister for the matrimony.”
I tilt my head to the side, considering. A marriage to the sister of the Cosa Nostra underboss is a very lucrative business opportunity. In fact, it seems too good to be true.
“And what is Arturo’s view on that idea?” I ask.
“I’ll make sure he sees the benefits.”
“So, he’s against it. What about his sister? Doesn’t she have aspirations to marry within the Family?”
“Sienna is a free spirit. She said she’s open to new experiences.”
“Is she now?” I take another sip of my drink, wondering what’s behind this proposition. Because something certainly is. “How old is she?”
“Just turned twenty.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you screwing with me, Ajello?”
“I’m not . . .screwingwith you, Mr. Popov. Do you have a specific age requirement for a woman you’d marry?”
“You could say so.” I can’t help but shake my head. Italians and their arranged marriages.
“Sienna and her friend will be coming here tonight with my chief of security. Make sure they’re let in.” Salvatore Ajello stands. “Let me know your decision by morning.”
