Page 16 of Maddest Temptation

“There is something else.” I tapped my fingers over the table. “Another one of our cargos has been stolen by the Russians, more than the last time.”

“How did they know we were transporting it?” Vitelli said and stood up heading towards the liquor cabinet, opened a bottle, and served himself two fingers of Scotch. I didn’t bother telling him it was ten in the morning.

“Luciano managed to question one of the culprits.”

“What did he say?” Vitelli closed the cork and sipped.

“That our theory about having a spy in our midst is correct. The Russians are receiving info from a man calling himself Volpe.”

“The fox,” Vitelli chuckled. “Doesn’t exactly inspire fear.”

“Foxes are one of the most cunning animals in the world. Apparently, this spy is one egotistical fucker.” I ran my thumb under my lips growing frustrated.

“Should we warn the Commission?”

I had pondered it before, but no, telling the rest of my underbosses would only create unnecessary chaos. “Let Luciano deal with it, for now.”

As my enforcer, it was his job, he had eyes and ears in every corner of this city. Not to mention his other skills inside the questioning cell. If anyone could help me find who this Volpe was, it had to be Luciano.

“Will you warn Donato Manci?”

“No.” The word slipped out effortlessly from my lips. “This stays between us.”

Donato Manci, Francesca’s father, had been my consigliere for the past four years. He had also been my father’s, before his untimely death. The title was a decorative one at best. Everyone knew my true consigliere was Vitelli, but for appearances sake, and peace amongst my men, Donato was the one who played the part.

Unfortunately, I still needed him to maintain the bridge between the younger generations and the old traditionalist one—which Donato ruled over. Despite hating his guts and wishing I could use them to hang him, I needed the fucker and the support he offered me.

“We should just kill him and get this over with.”

“Then what, I start a civil war? What do you think his supporters will do when I end him? I’m not Romeo Ferraro, I don’t kill my own.”

I had a bullet with Donato’s name carved on it, and he had an expiration date, all I needed was a cause and a good enough reason to use it. Except the man was loyal to a fault and had never given me any doubt as to where his allegiances lay. He might not like me much either, but we had both learned to live in the same cage together—like two hungry lions.

“He will kill us, mark my words, brother,” Vitelli pointed out somberly.

I had thought that, too, once, but Donato had lost his chance when I was weak and grieving. After my father’s death—a few months after my sister’s—Donato could have taken control of the Outfit. Risen above me and taken the crown and put it on his own head. He had had enough support to do so, but he never did. Instead, he followed me, he stood at my back and watched as I took control. If he wanted me dead, he would have done something already.

My brother and I sat for another hour discussing our future meeting with the New York Capo, as well as the growing problem with the Russians. While we talked, a nagging feeling at the back of my head wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Did we ever catch the man who killed Paolo Biancini?” Vitelli frowned at my sudden change in subject.

“No,” he said. “The assassin left no traces behind. We think he was a mercenary. Paolo’s heart attack was legit, caused by poisoning.”

“Aconite.” I supplied the name of the poison that truly killed him. “Does anyone know?”

Vitelli shook his head. “We cleared the files and made sure no one would talk.” That meant the files were torched and those who knew, now lay six feet under.

“Why would someone kill an old man?” I wondered aloud.

“Because he wasn’t that old and was still strong as a horse. Someone wanted to speed up the process.” Vitelli tapped the rim of his scotch which now sat untouched.

Someone who would gain a lot from killing the richest man in the Outfit. Most of his profit was redirected to our coffers, since he left no male heirs behind, but I was sure somewhere along the line, some of that money went somewhere else.

“Did we look into it?”

“Not really.” Vitelli shrugged. “As I recall, you told me to let it die.”

I recall now saying those words, but I had always held a grudge with the man, albeit unbeknownst to him. He had what I most wanted and couldn’t have. The only reason he was on my mind was because of Francesca, and honestly, I wouldn’t have cared about that idiot if it wasn’t for her.

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