Page 44 of Prince of Malice

The Grecos want the Valentis and the Rossis to separate. They’re somehow getting Dominic to involve himself in dangerous and illegal activities to get him to slip up and tank his reputation.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His reputation reflects on his family, so if Dominic looks bad, then all of the Rossis look bad. The Rossis lose their reputation, then Dad will lose his reasons for siding with them and will cut ties with them soon enough.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

With the Rossis out of the picture and having masterminded the entire scheme themselves, the Grecos take their place alongside the Valentis.

Tap. Tap.

Unable to fight the feeling that there’s more pieces to this puzzle, I stop walking. Isthat their whole plan? Is there anything I’m missing? What angle am I not seeing?

What can I do to stop it?

There has to be some string to pull that makes this whole thing unravel, but what is it?

Wracking my brain for any idea of what the missing piece to the puzzle could be, I relent the attempt for now. Before I can make any major moves against the Grecos, I need to learn more about their plot. Right now is not the time for action, but for reconnaissance and planning.

Interrupting my mind’s spiraling, my phone begins to vibrate against my leg inside of my pocket, and as I take it out, I look over the screen to see my father’s name plastered across it. With a deep breath, I accept the call and hold the phone to my ear.

“Luca,” he declares. “Where are you right now?”

I take a look around my surroundings, having been lost in my own head as I was walking. I managed to lose track of how far I’d gotten away from the college campus. “I’m just out on a walk at the moment,” Iexplain. “About half a mile down Harbor Street. Why?”

“Filo will be there with the car soon. I need you back home,” he instructs. “The Grecos will be paying us a visit.”

Falling silent, I let the silence build between us. This is their next step, and this is how I can find out more. “Of course. Have they said why they’re coming by?”

“Well, after your attempt the other night,” he digs, “we’ve all decided that another meeting is needed to properly work this all out.”

His spiteful attacks at me cut deep, but I can bear them for now. Knowing that if I bide my time and prepare myself to cut down the Greco’s plan, I can recover my standing in my father’s eyes.

“And don’t worry about getting in over your head this time. I’ll be taking the lead from now on.”

Biting my tongue, I swallow my pride. This will let me focus on figuring them out while Dad navigates their games. “Just let me know what you need me to do.”

“Excellent. I’ll brief you once you arrive.” The phone line clicks, and the call ends.

Sighing deeply, I prepare for my next round against the Grecos.

Sitting beside my father in his study makes me feel like his lapdog, just here to look good and play nice while he handles everything. Which is exactly all he wants me to do.

Antonio Greco relaxes in a chair on the opposite side of the dark oak coffee table from us, keeping his entire posture and attitude loose and almost carefree. Being the patriarch of the Greco family, I had always expected him to act far more focused when it came to meeting a man like my father or even the former Franco Rossi, but instead he opts for a more informal approach. It is this very same nature that makes me suspicious of their recent success and growth. Not to say that the Grecos were entirely unsuccessful before, as they certainly had power and renown in the city. However, they always acted more like vultures, picking off their rivals at their lowest moments and snatching control when others weren’t looking, a strategy that worked perfectly well for them up until recently. But their new approach isfar more cunning, thought out, and long term than I would expect from Antonio.

Which is all to say that, for tonight, my attention will stay on the young man beside him instead. At face value, he doesn’t seem to be all too threatening. He’s young like myself and hasn’t said a single word since he got here, but knowing about Antonio’s mysterious conspirator from last night, I am inclined to believe that this is the same man. That he’s the one who’s behind this whole scheme.

One thing that I am unsure of is who exactly he is. He sits beside Antonio the same way that I do beside my father, so is he his son? I’ve never heard of Antonio having an heir of any kind; even his relations with women have only ever been brief from what others have said. So who is Antonio’s business partner, and why is he making his first appearances now?

My dad pours a glass of whiskey for Antonio, handing it across to him, and then pours one for himself. Antonio swirls the amber drink around the glass before taking a sip.

“Are we ready to begin?” my father asks him, getting a nod in response.

Already, I am unsettled by the stinging sense of deja vu. This entire situation is all too similar to our negotiations with the Rossis only months ago—meeting with Sofia and her children in this very room and discussing every detail about their wedding and how the joining of families would go. I can’t help but feel like this is the very reason the Grecos are here.

“My son told me what he could from the short meeting he had with you,” my father says. “So why don’t we continue from there?”

“Actually,” I interject, “I don’t think I’ve ever spoken with him before.” I look the stranger directly in the eye. “Have we met?” The man returns my question with a shifty grin, letting Antonio do the talking. “You wouldn’t have,” Antonio says. “He wasn’t able to make it last time, so you met with whoever we had available.”

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