Page 2 of Bianchi

Smoothing a hand over my black Oxford shirt, I pull open my coat, the heat in the car making a bead of sweat run down the center of my spine. My tone is clipped and to the point when I ask, “Do we have any updates?”

I feel Daniele shift in his seat but he continues to look out the window as he speaks. “No, boss. The last comms I had with Aldo were that they were close to figuring it out, but as expected, there was a buzz around the dock and it hampered our investigations.”

It might be more challenging to take action with no name, but it won’t be impossible. We won’t rest until we find them. In targeting us, they have only fueled our fire and when we catch them—because we will—they will wish they had the sense to never be born. As the head of the family, it’s my job to make sure a message is sent.

Chapter 2

Romeo

The remainder of the journey to Massimo’s is spent in silence. Every enemy we’ve ever faced flashes through my mind on a supersonic carousel. I can’t pinpoint which one is more likely to have pulled this off.

With my thoughts occupied, the drive passes quickly, and before I know it, the three cars pull into the driveway of Massimo’s estate. We speed down the gravel road. Dust swirls into a cloud from the car in front of us, hitting the windshield and dissipating into the air. The car ahead turns left as we go right and swing around the fountain that hasn’t functioned for years, coming to a stop at the foot of the steps.

Aldo, Massimo’s consigliere, is waiting for us. He holds my door open as I step out. My heart hammers in my chest, and I crack my neck as I school my features into my usual mask of indifference. His posture is stiff and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the cool climate. He holds my stare before his eyes dart to Daniele when he rounds the car to join us. Aldo stands taller, his chin jutting out, as Daniele comes to a stop beside me.

“Romeo, Daniele. It’s good to see you.” He pauses, tugging on the hem of his blazer as his eyes bounce around on the landscape. I eye his fidgeting movements suspiciously. Clearing his throat, he brings his attention back to us and adds, “If only it was under better circumstances.”

Brushing off the wariness that has no place with family, I clap Aldo on the shoulder and shake his hand with the other. “If it was under better circumstances, I wouldn’t need to be here, Aldo.”

Ignoring the adrenaline rushing through me, I stroll past him, up the stairs, and into the house, certain they will follow. At first glance, not much has changed about the place. Although the furnishings seem to have been updated, there is still a grandeur to it. Money and status are clear in every room I pass on my way to Massimo’s office.

Our nonno purchased the land over fifty years ago. He built the house for our nonna, paying homage to the villas in Sicily. Except it’s a fortress, with bulletproof windows and armed guards walking the perimeter day and night.

I pass five of Massimo’s men on my way to the back of the house. Their expressions are grave as each of them bows their head and clears a path for me. The mood is somber. I have no doubt that these men are just as angered by these attacks as I am. We’ll need that passion for when we find these bastards.

Massimo’s office door is open when I arrive. His laptop is open in front of him and a pile of files sit to his right in a neat stack. The sleeves of his crumpled white shirt are rolled up, exposing his tattoos.

“Cugino, it’s good to see you,” I greet, walking into the room.

His head darts up, and I’m hit by a familiarity I haven’t felt in years. It’s been too long. Of course we keep in touch, but considering Massimo is the only blood family I have left, we don’t visit like I imagine a ‘normal’ family would.

Massimo smiles, and although it quickly fades, for a moment, the tiredness that was evident on his face was wiped away by the simple act of baring his teeth. Looking at him, I’m reminded of our mischief-filled childhood, safe under the security blanket that covered us before responsibility and the dangerous life we lead was thrust upon us.

A creek sounds around the room as he leans back in his chair. His calm posture is a contradiction of the mussed style of his hair. It speaks volumes as to the frustration I’m sure he feels. He will have pulled an all-nighter, working relentlessly through the night to find us answers as to who is behind these attacks. “Rome, it’s good to see you.”

Taking a seat in front of his desk, I lean back, cutting straight to the point when I ask, “What do we know?”

Aldo moves to stand behind Massimo’s desk while Daniele sits in the chair beside me. I inhale deeply, trying to center myself and clear the blood rushing in my ears. The collective weight of our need for vengeance hangs over us like a cloud, darkening the mood of the room.

Opening a manila folder, Aldo pulls out it contents and places it on the desk in front of me. A report is clipped to the right, but my eyes are instantly drawn to the picture of a woman. She’s dressed in yoga pants and a sports bra, with her jet-black hair tied back in a high ponytail. She looks like any New York Upper East Sider off to a yoga class. Her face is partially obscured, but it doesn’t stop a tightness gripping my gut as my eyes roam over the grainy black and white image. She looks familiar and yet I’m sure I’ve never met her. I’d have remembered.

I clear my throat before asking, “Who is she?”

“That is Aurora Costa.” There’s a hint of venom in Massimo’s tone when he says it. “Her father, Francesco Costa, is the one behind the most recent attack.”

My brows pull together, a deep groove forming between them. The names sound familiar. I wrack my brain for why, but come up empty.

“Who is he, and how can you be sure he’s responsible?” Daniele asks.

Massimo flexes his fist atop the mahogany desk and Aldo steps forward, updating us further. “Francesco was Dario’s underboss. His signature was on the device that exploded at the dock. One of our guys from the police department shared the evidence they’ve collected. As you can see…”

Aldo spreads three more photographs across the desk, hiding the one of Aurora from view. He points out the remnants of the device surrounded by dirt and debris. The infinity symbol with ‘F’ and ‘C’ in the loops is visible under the thin layer of dust. “This is Costa’s signature. There’s no doubt in my mind about it. This was his MO, his calling card, whatever you want to call it. He would always leave an infinity symbol behind. Of course, we—la famiglia—are the only ones who know this and can attribute it to him. I’ve asked for the police to stall in their investigations so we can get ahead of this with our own.”

“It sounds like you’ve made good progress.” I pause, considering everything that’s laid out in front of me. My hand lifts, pushing away the photos of the device and picking up the one of Aurora. I stare at it, silently urging her image to turn toward the camera so I can see her properly. Realizing I’m being ridiculous, I drop the photo back onto the desk and sit back, before asking, “What does the daughter have to do with this?”

With a defeated exhale, Massimo leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “The only lead we have is her. It seems Francesco has managed to go into hiding. We’ve spoken to everybody who knows him or could have a possible lead to his whereabouts and have come up empty. It seems that nobody knows where he is.” He pulls in a breath, running his tongue over his teeth as he exhales. “Of course, it’s possible someone is covering for him, and if they are, we will deal with them, but I think we need to go after her. She’s the only lead we haven’t chased down.” He pauses, his gaze firmly on me when he implores, “Going after her, his family, will bring him out.”

A cold weight settles into the pit of my stomach. I know exactly what Massimo is asking. In order to seek retribution, we need to sink to a level I swore I never would. To a level that no man—as far as I’m aware—in our family ever has. I chew at the flesh on the inside of my cheek. There has to be another way, one that doesn’t involve this.

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