My wife is safe here, my family is safe. Staff roams through the majestic home, the home I grew up in, a structure of such massive fortitude it’s hard to imagine it not withstanding any natural or man-made disaster. Past the coat room and one of the spiral staircases that lead upstairs, we finally reach the main lobby and reception room.
The reception room is outfitted for hosting, with an imposing fireplace flanked with bricks, sturdy furniture, and an opulent display of our best wines, whiskeys, and liquors. Romeo’s had high-ranking officials here, politicians, mafia Dons from all over the world. Tonight, the tension in the air hangs like velvet drapes, smothering and oppressive.
“There he is,” Angelina whispers to me in the doorway. “Luigi Regazza.” I look in surprise to see a small, slight man sitting beside Romeo on the sofa by the fireplace. Thin, wiry gray hair and a scant beard make him look older than he is. His large, bland eyes reminiscent of an ancient barn owl barely focus as he sips a whiskey. If I didn’t know what he was capable of, I’d think he could barely tie his own fucking shoelaces. It’s only a ruse, though. Convenient to give an air of frailty when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
He rises when we enter, bowing to us, but I don’t miss the wicked glint of hatred in his eyes.
“Ah, the newlyweds. Welcome and congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I look to Romeo for guidance, but he only stares at me, unblinking, before giving me a short nod. He trusts me but does not trust the man who sits across from him.
It’s hard to imagine a man so small even wields the power that he does, but Romeo has told me the story of his deeds. They read like a textbook on crime one might read when studying criminal justice in college. If there were felonies he could’ve committed to rise to the top of power among Italian mafia families, he checked off every damn one.
“Angelina. Orlando,” Romeo says. “Have a seat, please. Drink?”
A member of staff walks over with a tray of wineglasses. Angelina frowns when she looks at them.
“Ah, no wine for me,” she says, but she seems distracted and thoughtful.
“Tea, then, Miss?” one of the staff members asks. I don’t recognize any of them, but I’ve been away so long I don’t think much of it. Still, Angelina’s uneasy. She looks as if she wants to say something, then shakes her head.
“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”
She stares hard at the staff who bows in front of her and leaves to prepare her drink. I bend my mouth to her ear. “Everything okay?”
She shrugs. “I think so?” she whispers.
It isn’t, though, we both know it. Regazza is as ruthless as they come, and if I wasn’t sitting right here beside her, if she wasn’t sitting in the presence of my brothers and guarded on all sides by my staff, she’d be dead.
It’s because of her that his plan to escape retribution from my family went sideways. In his eyes, that’s worthy of death.
“You have a traitor among you, Romeo,” Regazza says, leaning back in his chair. “And yet she wanders free without any mark of punishment on her.”
My blood begins to boil.
“You mean my wife?” I ask, tossing the gauntlet into the ring. “It seems your daughter is the one who betrayed us, Luigi. For shame.” My body vibrates with the need to hurt him. I gesture for staff to bring me a glass of wine, hold the stem between my fingers, and drink heartily.
A vein pulses in his temple. “How dare you,” he growls.
Romeo clears his throat. Unlike others who bluster and swagger, Romeo grows deadly when his temper ignites, like a poisonous snake coiling before he strikes. When he speaks to Regazza, his voice is so low I can hardly make out the words.
“He’s right, Luigi,” Romeo says. “And you know it. Angelina is under the protection of my family now.”
She stiffens by my side. She’s under the protection of my family only for the length of her pregnancy, as far as Romeo’s concerned, but Regazza doesn’t need to know that, and I’m doing everything in my power to change that.
“On what grounds?” Luigi has the audacity to snap.
“She’s pregnant with my child.” I place my wineglass on the coffee table. My fingertips tighten around the glass, steadying my shaking hand.
Regazza rises in seconds, but before he’s even on his feet, I’ve drawn my gun and cocked it. Pride swells in my chest to see not just mine, but the gun of every one of my brothers trained on Regazza. All but Romeo, who sits back, crosses one leg over one knee, and laces his fingers together.
“You were saying, Luigi?” On instinct, Regazza looks to his bodyguards, but they’ve been immobilized several paces behind him. He won’t be allowed protection, not here.