Page 35 of The Sicilian Brotherhood I

The teller pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Dahlia Cole accessed that vault. You.”

Dahlia slammed her hands on the table.

“I didn’t! I haven’t accessed that vault.”

“Well, it’s empty now.”

“I have a key right here,” Dahlia said, “There are only two keys in existence. I have this one and Franco has the other one.”

“C’mon,” I said, “Let’s go.”

“I want to see what’s in the vault!”

The teller shrugged and showed us the vault. Dahlia pushed her key in and as the teller said, it was empty. My stomach twisted into a thousand knots and my jaw clenched in rage. Either Franco didn’t trust Dahlia as much as she thought he did, or someone had gotten to the vault first. I could tell she wasn’t trying to trick me. Her surprise was too authentic.

I walked her out of the bank as she gazed dumbfounded into nothing.

“It was here. Franco wouldn’t move it. He wouldn’t.”

“Who could have come here posing as you?”

“No one!” She insisted, “Listen, you know Italians… a girl with skin like mine stands out. The Sardinians don’t associate with anyone who isn’t family.”

“I don’t trust this friend of yours, Skye.”

“I’m telling you, it isn’t Skye!”

“I think it is," I growled.

Her stubbornness started to get aggravate my nerves.

“It isn’t.”

“I’m not going to fight with you. Get on the back of this bike and we’ll work it out.”

She pouted but she didn’t protest. I could sense she was angry with me for bringing up her friend Skye. She had reason to trust that woman, I didn’t. This was the second hiccup in my plan that hadn’t come from any Sicilian.

When we were back at the villa, she kept to herself, eating dinner quietly alone and then retiring to bed early, not even hinting that she wanted me to follow her up, which I would have been glad to put our argument aside to do.

The last thing I needed was for her to be uncooperative. I still wanted that diamond and she was still my best bet for finding it.

I booked our flight out of Italy after the weekend. We spent two days in a relative Cold War. She refused to speak to me unless necessary and when we spoke for too long, we ended up arguing about whether or not Skye was responsible for the missing diamond.

Upon Dahlia’s insistence, I considered the possibility that a Sicilian might be behind this. My best bet was Pietro. He was the only one who had shown any kind of resistance at how I’d handled Raimondo. But he knew the rules, they all did. When we landed back on American soil, I rented out a small cottage on Long Island near the sea and left her there.

“Don’t run,” I told her, “I’m going for one night.”

“Where would I run to?” She retorted.

I wanted to kiss her goodbye then. I was tempted to drop the persona, become Giac rather than Giacomo. But I had to let her know that I was serious and that escape was out of the question, at least not right then. She was in more danger alone than by my side, despite what she thought. What happened in Sicily proved that. She had an impersonator and we both had Italians chasing us down with bloodlust and revenge throbbing in their hearts.

I didn’t want to leave her. But I didn’t have much of a choice either. I needed that diamond. I needed to clean out the brotherhood. Despite everything I felt for her, I had my duty. When I took over for my father, I didn’t just inherit his dirty money, his houses, his hacienda in Colombia, his villa in Italy, or his cars and bikes. I inherited responsibility for the entire Sicilian brotherhood.

Dahlia was coincidental. And she wasn’t a priority. She couldn’t be. No woman could be. I’d vowed to protect my brothers as long as they followed our code of conduct. Nothing could cause me to break those vows.

“If you need anything, call me. I have a guy in Queens who will help you out.”

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