“That’s fine with me. I figured we were going to have this discussion eventually.” I look at Elena and resist the urge to put my hand on her thigh. I’m still buzzing from earlier in the day.I didn’t know how she’d react to seeing the house—buying the damn thing was a whim and a risk—but it went better than I ever could’ve imagined.
I want to be with her. I want to be her husband. Not for some political reason, but because I wanther, and I’m ready to stop holding myself back out of some ill-advised attempt at emulating my father. I can handle having a wife and a family on top of running my organization—and I can do that by letting my brothers take on more of the responsibility, and by leaning on Elena as much as is reasonable.
I’m not in this alone. I should’ve realized that from the start. Maybe my game with Santoro could’ve gone even better if Simon and Davide knew about it from the beginning, but I don’t regret making that decision. There are always a million different ways to look back and wonder how things could be different, but I made my decisions and I took my risks, and now I’m living with how things are shaking out.
We talk about the details of the plan. Simon listens more than he speaks, which I take as a good sign. Davide doesn’t add much, even though he’s clearly soaking everything in. Elena is helpful, if a little quiet.
“The real problem is my father.” Simon exchanges a look with his brother. “He’s retired. And things are complicated with Santoro.”
“That’s an understatement,” Elena murmurs.
“I don’t know what happened between Dad and Uncle Santoro, but I think it messed them both up.” Davide swirls his drink and finishes it. “I’m not sure he’s going to play along.”
“We don’t have to tell him.” Simon looks around at everyone. “We can let him think this is a routine warehouse inspection. The old man still likes running errands for the Famiglia, it makes him feel like he’s useful. He doesn’t need to know the details.”
“I don’t like that,” Elena says right away. Davide seems thoughtful.
“If he doesn’t know, he might panic,” I point out, which doesn’t get a good reaction from Simon. He glares at me as if his old man isn’t capable of having a poor reaction to a stressful situation. “When Santoro shows up, he could do something stupid and fuck up everything.”
“He could,” Simon agrees. “But if we tell him, he could refuse to show.”
“He’ll do it.” Elena’s voice sounds small, but she looks determined. “After the attack, I think he finally realized that Santoro isn’t the man he remembers. I think that was a step too far.”
“You’re right,” Davide agrees. “I vote we tell him.”
Sion shrugs like he wasn’t really married to the idea anyway. “We tell him. Elena, that’s your job.”
“Why me?” Her eyebrows shoot up.
“Because he’ll listen to you.” Davide’s smile is tight but very amused. “We all know you’re his favorite.”
Elena huffs and shifts in her seat, making a show of denying it, but the look on Simon’s face tells me everything. He seems amused, like this is obvious to everyone but her.
“I’ll do it, but I want something in return.” Elena’s spine straightens. “I want to be the one who escorts him to the warehouse. I want to be there when everything goes down.”
“Absolutely not,” I say.
And Simon says at the same time, “No fucking way.”
Only Davide keeps his mouth shut.
Elena glares from me to Simon. “You’re both right, Dad will listen to me, but if I’m not around on the day of, he might do something stupid. I need to be there to keep the temperature low.”
“You’ll be in danger,” I say through my clenched teeth. “There’s no fucking way I’m letting that happen.”
“Santoro won’t suspect anything if I’m the one with Dad,” Elena insists. “If it’s Simon or Davide, he’ll be suspicious.”
“I don’t care. Send a Capo, send a guard, whatever, but not you.” I look at Simon for backup. “I’ll walk if she’s anywhere near that warehouse. I’ll call it all off.”
Simon’s mouth pinches together. He leans back and knuckles his forehead. “Fuck you both,” he mutters and shakes his head. “Elena’s right. God, that sucks, but she’s right.”
“No kidding,” she says, sounding smug.
I stand up, shaking my head. “Not happening. No fucking way. I’d rather fight a bloody, grinding war with Santoro than let her anywhere near the action.”
“Sit back down,” Elena commands. I remain standing, defiant. “There won’t be any shooting. Santoro will show up, he’ll think he’s ambushing Dad, they’ll talk a little and hopefully getSantoro to say something incriminating, and I’ll have a wire on. Then Captain Kennedy will show up, arrest Santoro, we’ll pin everything on him, and we all go home.” Elena wipes her hands together like it’ll be easy-peasy.
I look around the room. Davide seems thoughtful. Simon looks like he’s already grudgingly accepting this. And I feel control beginning to slip between my fingers.