Page 55 of Maddest Temptation

“But we don’t know.” Vitelli shot out.

“He doesn’t need to know that,” I said. “All we need is for him to believe it. And that’s how we are going to lure him out.”

“Using his own spy?”

I nodded. “This is what we are going to do.”

Then I proceeded to explain my plan. From what we learned in tonight’s interrogation, was that the Volpe was amongst my higher ranks. Something I already suspected. So, my plan consisted of two parts. I would give each of my underbosses an order, a message of sorts. About the cargo I was sending, a time and place for it, etc. Then, all I had to do was wait for the Russians to show up, and I would know who betrayed me.

If this fox thought himself cunning, then he was in for a treat because I was about to hunt him down as if it were a rabid dog. When I found him, because I would, then I’d skin him alive and tear him piece by piece.

After discussing the plan thoroughly, I headed upstairs to my office. Once inside, I headed toward the cabinet and poured Vitelli——who had followed me——a glass of whiskey while I took a bottle of water.

“Who do you suspect the spy is?” he asked, setting his tumbler on the table.

I stopped by the floor-to-ceiling window and observed the empty room below. It was still early. The club wouldn’t open for hours. I pondered Vitelli’s question. “I have my suspicions.”

“I think it’s Donato.” His answer did not surprise me, not in the least. “Just think about it before you dismiss it. He’s a slimy fucker.”

I cocked one brow. “The Outfit is full of slimy fuckers.”

Vitelli shook his head. “Not like him.”

“What would he have to gain?” I mused.

“What would anyone have to gain by allying with the Russians?”

Power.

I thought about it but kept it quiet. That’s when I saw the glimmer in my brother’s eyes and knew whatever he was about to say was probably going to hit a nerve.

“You should be careful with Francesca.”

I knew he would come back to that. “I’m not in the mood, Vitelli.”

“I’m just saying.” He picked his drink up and stared at it. “She’s his daughter.”

“Vitelli,” I warned. “Enough.”

He sighed and leaned back. I wasn’t going to talk about her with him. Francesca had been on my mind since…always. I couldn’t—even if I tried—forget her. Ever since I kissed her, it was hard forgetting her taste. Cherry. Francesca tasted as sweet as cherries. She was my favorite treat.

“You know she was married to Paolo Biancini.”

That was a fact I wanted to forget. “And?”

“And,” he deadpanned. “He and Donato had a falling out. You never wondered why?”

All the damned time. Lately more than before. “What are you getting at?” He turned the whiskey in his cup and took a while to speak his mind. “Spit it out.”

“Maybe you should talk to her,” he suggested. “She might know something.”

Vitelli left me with that thought and it didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to involve Francesca more than I already had. Going to her place after what happened at the Russian bar was a mistake. I put her in danger. If anything happened to her, I would never forgive myself.

The clock struck five, I still had work to do, but Francesca was on my mind and when she was there, I was a goner. I looked at my computer seeing all I had to do and stood up. I had to see her. It was a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop myself.

So, I left.

It took me twenty minutes to reach the hospital, from what Vince—the guard I had designated to follow her since the night I saved her from jail—said, she was still with her mother. I had known about Domenica Manci’s illness for a while now, ever since Francesca began visiting the hospital every day. I grew curious, so I investigated it.

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