Chapter 4
4
We went to the kitchen to grab a snack while I waited for Gunnar to get back to me.
Niccolo cleared the room of servants so we could talk in private. The last to leave was the woman Valentino was sleeping with – Caterina.
I could see why he liked her. Beautiful face, expressive eyes, always smiling – and very curvy.
Valentino thought they were being sly, but it was the worst-kept secret in the household. Everybody knew about them.
Niccolo had told him to cut it out – that it was bad for the servants’ morale and a disaster waiting to happen – but Val just became slightly more discreet. Like fucking her in a bedroom instead of the kitchen pantry.
Niccolo asked Dario to get involved, knowing that Valentino would heed a direct order from his don. But Dario reminded Niccolo of their own ‘youthful indiscretions’ and refused to do anything about it until it became absolutely necessary.
“Why steal his happiness?” was the way Dario put it.
On a purely logical level, I agreed with Niccolo. It was bad for morale, and it was a ticking time bomb…
But I found myself coming down on Dario’s side. Valentino and Caterina both seemed happy, and I didn’t have the heart to watch the destruction of anyone else’s love life.
Especially considering what a royal fuck-up I’d made of my own.
We’d just finished our food when Gunnar got back to me. His text identified two of the men as Alexei Kuznetsov and Dmitri Stepanov, both veterans of the Russian military – and former members of the Wagner Group. ‘Former’ seeing as they were dead.
Gunnar hadn’t ID’d the other three men yet, but I was already convinced.
“How bad is this, exactly?” Dario asked.
“Bad,” I answered. “Wagner’s known for their brutality. When Fausto decided to hire extra help, he went with the worst of the worst – mercenaries with no regard for the normal rules of warfare p>
“We don’t know for certain that Fausto hired them,” Niccolo pointed out.
Dario and I both looked at him.
“…but we should assume it, yes,” he added grudgingly. “Call Massimo so we can tell him p>
I texted him first. Can you talk?
He called a few seconds later. As soon as I answered, I said, “Hey, Mass. I’m here with Dario and Niccolo p>
Then I put the phone down on the counter and stepped back.
Massimo’s end of the call was noisy as hell – like he was standing right next to a revving motorcycle.
“Where the hell are you?” Niccolo asked.
Massimo shouted over the noise. “On a boat in the canals with the – uh, Signora Fioretti’s men, going to get her granddaughter at her university p>
So he was standing next to a motor – just one on a boat, not a motorcycle.
“Scoring brownie points, I see,” Niccolo said approvingly.
“I’m trying p>
Dario hunched down over the counter so he didn’t have to shout into the phone. “Are you alright? You weren’t hurt in the attack p>
“No, I’m fine p>
“More importantly,” Niccolo joked, “is the Widow alright p>
“Thanks,” he replied sarcastically. “And yes, she’s fine p>
“Did you happen to save her bony ass in a grand display of heroics p>
“I’d say that’s a fair assessment p>
Massimo’s answers were vague and cagey – which meant he was probably sitting right next to the Widow’s men.
“Then I hope she’s suitably grateful,” Niccolo continued.
“That part’s going well p>
“Excellent,” Dario said.
“Any word on the attackers p>
“My source has identified two of them,” I said. “He’s still checking on the others p>
“And p>
“They’re Wagner Group p>
“…shit p>
Massimo apparently knew what that meant.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“You think it was a coincidence they attacked her when I was there p>
Niccolo laughed bitterly. “I think you mean, ‘How the fuck did they know I was in Venice?’ It was either a bug in the house or moles. We’re looking into it p>
We weren’t – not yet – but I knew that would be the next thing on my to-do list.
“Okay… so what do we do p>
“Deliver the Widow’s granddaughter to her safely, then get back home,” Dario said. “We’re figuring out the rest right now p>
“Alright p>
“Watch your back,” I said. “If they went after the Widow, they might not be finished p>
Massimo sounded dejected as he replied, “That’s what I was thinking p>
“Keep safe,” Dario ordered, “and let us know when you’re on the way back p>
“What’s going on?” a familiar voice asked a second after we ended the call.
We turned to see Adriano and Bianca walking into the kitchen.
They had just gotten married the day before on the mansion’s grounds. It had been a small wedding because virtually no representatives from the other Italian mafia families had attended.
That was because the entire Cosa Nostra was under the false impression that the Rosolinis had murdered their longtime business partners in Florence – a false impression crafted by the man who had actually engineered their deaths: their uncle Fausto.
Like I said, the motherfucker behind all our problems.
Out of fear for their safety, Dario had ordered Adriano and Bianca to take their honeymoon here at home instead of somewhere like the Amalfi Coast or Bali. Not to mention that Adriano was still recovering from injuries he’d suffered during an epic shootout in Florence – a gun battle I’d been part of.
I glanced out the bulletproof French windows that lined the kitchen. Outside, rolling green lawns stretched to the swimming pool – and beyond that were the gardens, olive groves, and vineyards covering the property.
Not a bad place to honeymoon.
Adriano and Bianca had gone out earlier for a picnic lunch, but the rumpled state of Bianca’s hair suggested they’d been doing something besides just picnicking.
Good for them.
“Massimo got attacked in Florence,” Dario said.
Adriano froze. “What?! Is he okay p>
Dario was just about to answer when the first bullet hit the windowpane.