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“I was just as broken up as I’m sure you were to hear about Tony’s arrest,” says Alessandro. “My own father-in-law and all. It’s been quite the shock. To both of us.”
My husband puts his hand over mine. I nod solemnly, playing the part.
Roberto snorts. “And right after you came in line to take over the family, too. That’s mighty convenient. Nazzaro makes you his successor, he croaks it. Then you marry Gagliardi’s daughter, and old Tony gets pinched by the feds. I’m not saying anything, obviously. Just, you gotta see how it looks. People are gonna have their concerns.”
“Hey,” Dominic retorts sharply, “you better not be implying what I think you are.”
“Roberto has the knack for saying things that are impolite,” chuckles Gio the Butcher, “but that everyone is thinking. Please do not hold it against him. As we all know, appearances matter.”
“People will have their opinions,” Alessandro says evenly, “but I’m not worried about people. A smooth transfer of power means the cash keeps flowing. For everybody. If you back me publicly, the other Gagliardi captains will fall in line.”
Gio nods thoughtfully. “You’re right about that. I’m open to it. If the terms are right.”
“Okay, let’s talk numbers. I’m willing to match the arrangement you had with Gagliardi.”
My attention wanders. There’s something creepy about this living room that I can’t quite place. My eyes explore the ornaments on the coffee table, trying to figure out what exactly is encased in that clear block of resin…
I can’t help but recoil as I realize that embalmed in the transparent cube is a human jawbone, complete with teeth. Roberto makes eye contact with me, noticing my reaction, and a cruel smile appears on his face. I avoid his gaze, my heart suddenly hammering.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation after dinner?” our host suggests. “We have all night to talk business. Let’s enjoy some good food.”
***
It is good food. We sit outside on the patio, feasting on pesto pasta with fresh tomatoes along with lemon-herb chicken and roasted asparagus. After the catering staff clear our plates, we stay at the table drinking limoncello, taking in the night air.
It seems like the negotiation is going well. “I can see why your grandfather picked you,” says Gio. “You’ve got stones.”
Alessandro’s face twitches, but he accepts the compliment. “And I can see why he respected the way you do business. What if we keep the same arrangement you had with Gagliardi, but we shave two points off. Hell, call it two and a half. That way for you, nothing changes. You just get to keep more money.”
The other man frowns, mulling it over. “Three and a half.”
Alessandro pauses and makes brief eye contact with Dominic. Then he holds out his hand. “Done.”
Gio’s scarred face breaks into a smile. “Then we should have champagne.”
“Lucky bastard, aren’t you?” says Roberto. “The old man kicks the bucket just in time, and then you get to marry this piece of ass.” He leers at me. “What say you throw her my way for the night? I’d be happy to break her in for you.”
Alessandro’s eyes flash, but he remains calm. Gio watches his reaction, and I swear there’s something smug in his eyes. Like he knows the deal they just made is too good for Alessandro to make an issue of the disrespect.
“He’s going to keep pushing boundaries,” warns Dominic, meeting with us in our guest bedroom when we retire after dinner. “The deal you made was smart, but he thinks he’s going to be able to walk all over you.”
I’m uneasy as I go to bed. Growing up as the daughter of Tony Gagliardi, nobodyeverspoke to me like that. It would have been a death sentence. But Alessandro just let it happen. All to secure his position within the family.
It’s an arrangement. Stop expecting him to care about you.
***
Roberto doesn’t join us for breakfast. We eat on the patio again, this time a very American meal of eggs, bacon, and hash browns.
“I’m sure it’s just his stomach,” says our host, walking us back into the house. “It bothers him sometimes.” We’re on our way out now. The deal is done.
Gio, Dominic, Alessandro, and I pass through the living room, the first time we’ve entered it today. When my eyes land on the fish tank, I scream.
Floating in the piranha tank is a bloated corpse with half its skeleton picked clean. The water is red and cloudy as the fish swarm, devouring pieces of the flesh. Not much is left of the face, but what does remain makes its identity clear:
It’s Roberto.
Gio the Butcher stares at it, seething. His face is pale, but I can see the calculations quickly being made behind his dead eyes.
