Page 74 of Twilight Mask

“Never dreamed you would. I’m just here to ask for a courtesy.”

She laughs, sharp and ugly. “You’re going to beg for your girlfriend’s life?”

“No, Valentina. I’m going to warn you. That gallery opening is a bad idea.”

Silence between us. I don’t know how we got to this place, but she’s looking at me like I’m slime, and I barely recognize her now. There’s an ugly sneer in her eyes.

“You’re not going to warn them,” she says, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just don’t do this.”

“It’s not in my hands, you know that. All I did was make sure you couldn’t talk anyone out of it.” She shakes her head and starts to close the door. “You made your choice already, Marco. Now you have to live with it.”

And I’m left in the hallway, seething with anger.

Chapter 35

Laura

The oasis shouldn’t exist.

It’s absurd, really. In a city like Chicago, dense as hell and always growing, a single family shouldn’t control an entire city block. Much less be able to close off one end and treat it like a private kingdom.

And yet the Biancos have been living in these houses for a long time now. Some of the buildings are family structures: every sibling has their own home. But some of them are guest houses, and others are for more specialized purposes.

I find Simon grunting away in front of a mirror. He’s sweaty and focused as he lifts weights. His guards give me a wary look but don’t stop me as I walk into the gym, which occupies the entire first floor and basement of one of the houses. Simon glances at me in the mirror. The dick has the nerve to finish his sets before turning to face me, breathing hard.

This wasn’t an easy decision to reach. After my conversation with my mother, I had to really think about how to approach this. I’ll admit, I’m a flawed person, and my first instinct was to go on a pyromaniac rampage and burn the entire fucking block to the ground. Destroy it all and move on.

Then I took some time to cool off and thought more about it, and the outlines of a plan began to take shape.

“If you’re here to kill me, at least let me put on a clean shirt first.” Simon’s attempt at humor falls flat.

“I know about the gallery.”

His little smile fades away. “I figured you’d hear about it sooner or later.”

“How many pieces did you plan on stealing from me?”

“It’s not stealing.” He stands and uses a towel to wipe down the machine. “You’re a member of this Famiglia, and your sculptures are worth some serious money. Angelo was going to make sure you got a more than fair cut of the proceeds.”

“How many, Simon?”

“Eight. Mostly picked from the back yard. You know, all those statues you’ve been ignoring for years?”

I stare at him. He looks back. I’m much more comfortable with silence, but Simon’s gotten harder over the years. He was always strong, but there was a gentleness to him, an eagerness to make people like him, at least back before he became the Don. Most people never noticed it, but Simon’s always been transparent to me.

But his years as head of the family have shaped him. Now he’s granite, and staring him down doesn’t do a thing. If I weren’t so pissed off, I might have a little respect for him.

“I choose which ones you take.”

That surprises him. I’m guessing he expected a big fight, one that he’d win whether I liked it or not, since he holds all the power. And really, when Mom first told me about Simon’s scheme, that was my first instinct. Go ballistic, start fires, etc., etc. Then I drank more coffee, did some work on my jackal ear, and thought about it. One thing kept coming up: why did Mom tell me in the first place, especially knowing how pissed I’d be?

The answer was pretty obvious once I get over my initial reaction.

“You want to be involved?” he asks and squints at me as if he’s trying to see through a mask.

“It’s my gallery opening, isn’t it? Yes, I want to be involved, because I don’t trust you idiots to do it right. I pick the pieces.”

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