Page 18 of The Last Vendetta

6

RENZO

Renzo

For the next two days, I had no time to think. I lacked the time to feel anything other than suffocating frustration.

Leaving Giulia the way I had wasn’t easy, but those blissful, stolen moments in her room, when I played with her on her bed and made her come so beautifully on my hand, were all that kept me sane in her absence.

In Gio’s study, at the warehouse where soldiers and capos met, and in and out of other offices, I was thrust straight into all that Luka once had to handle. While I had been dismissed and free to do as I pleased, he had to speak with all these capos. He had checked in with soldiers. And he’d had his thumb on the pulse of so many secret operations that I felt overwhelmed by it all.

My life was no longer mine. My time was not mine to do with as I saw fit.

I was owned, ruled by the expectations of my father. Without Luka here to deal with all the business, I was screwed.

I didn’t begrudge him. He was killed, and I never would have wished him dead for any reason. But at the same time, I felt stuck and spiraling out of control.

If I wasn’t listening to the capos explain details to me, I was scrambling to remember who was who. And if I wasn’t paying attention to the autopsy that had been done on Luka—confirming that he’d ingested a poison placed in his drink at the wedding reception—I was nodding along and wondering how in the hell my brother had ever handled so many things at once.

No wonder he was such a cold-hearted, aloof asshole.

No wonder he looked vacant and sinister.

He’d never had a chance to live. To just be. And now, it seemed I wouldn’t, either.

Instead of mourning his death, Gio and the capos within the Family pushed forward with figuring out who’d killed him. If this was the death of an older member, someone expected to pass away, then yes, preparations would be arranged to celebrate the end of their life with meals, parties, gatherings, and meetings.

No one was celebrating a goddamn thing as the day of Luka’s funeral approached. We were all concentrating on identifying the killer. I was fixated on avenging him and killing his murderer. It wasn’t shocking that the funeral was to be held so hastily. Respect would be paid later, or as Gio worded it more than once with a nagging tone, I could pay the ultimate respect by filling his shoes and killing his killer.

Once I find them, I will.

I drew in a steadying breath as I stood next to my father at the funeral. Aligned with the top leaders and capos, I waited for all the guests to file in.

While none of us were in the mood to grieve Luka and succumb to the loss of a family member, we were alert and eager to see what developments could happen as he was laid to rest. Just like the wedding had been, this grouping of the Mafia’s elite could shake loose some clues.

I tracked the entrance of them all. Marcus and Nickolas Romano. Gio nodded at them, greeting them as they arrived, but I beat him to the punch, asking what he had to be struggling to understand.

“Where is Cecilia?” I asked, holding up the line at the entrance to the church. Other guests—minor associates within the Families—filed in around them, perhaps too inferior to suspect that they should pay their respects personally before the ceremony began.

Marcus Romano lifted his chin, eyeing me carefully. Even though he was about the same age as Gio, the Mafia lord looked good. Buff and fit, like he didn’t work out for the sake of staying healthy but to remind us all that he could still kick ass.

“She’s not here,” Nickolas snapped, implying I was an imbecile to inquire.

“Not here?” Gio furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. She wasn’t married to him for long, but she was his wife.” He gestured toward the altar. Just three days ago, Luka and Cecilia stood at the wide level where a single casket stood waiting now. “How is she not here?”

“She’s not available,” Marcus replied, smoothing down the lapels of his suit.

“Why not?” I persisted. “Where is she?”

“She’s not here,” Nickolas repeated, tense and impatient.

“I fucking see that. What I don’t understand is why she isn’t willing to come to her husband’s funeral.”

Gio shot me a stern look.

“Let us be seated.” Marcus dismissed me, looking further into the church and gesturing for Nickolas to go with him. His son wasn’t letting it go, though. He narrowed his eyes, seeming to dare me to speak up again.

Once they moved on, Gio caught my gaze and shook his head slightly.

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