Page 70 of Stricken

As Costa turns to go, I call after him. "And Costa? Be careful. This Shtyk... he's not to be underestimated."

"Right back at you, Nicola."

The fountain's spray catches the sunlight, creating a momentary rainbow. But as I watch Costa's retreating form, I can't shake the feeling that this colorful display is merely a brief respite before the storm that's surely coming. Real storm.

* * *

The phone in my pocket vibrates as I'm slowly making my way back into the house. My first thought is it's Vlad, but Claudio's name flashes on the screen, and my heart lurches into my throat. When Morelli's consigliere calls, it's usually serious.

"Nicola. Tony wants to see you in his office. Now."

The line goes dead, leaving me with a growing pit of dread in my stomach. I stand, rooted to my spot for a second, breathing, before moving toward Uncle's office. My footsteps echo through the empty hallways, each one bringing me closer to a potential reckoning. Does he know about Vlad?

Did Sal or Vartan rat me out?

I pause outside the door, preparing myself before knocking. The wood feels cool against my knuckles, unlike my feverish skin.

"Enter," Uncle's voice calls, muffled but unmistakable.

I push the door open and step inside, and the air seems to thicken around me. Tony sits behind his massive desk, his posture rigid despite the obvious strain in his features. His skin has a sickly yellow tinge, and dark circles rim his eyes. Uncle isn't doing so well. No wonder Salvatore is baring his teeth way too much as of late. He knows his father has to announce the heir soon, has to choose who will carry the Morelli name into the future.

Behind Tony, Claudio stands, with his hands behind his back.

"Uncle, you wanted to see me," I manage. "How are you feeling? I heard the doctor was here last night." The kitchen staff gossip proved to be useful after all.

Tony waves a dismissive hand. "I'm fine, Nico. Just a touch of indigestion." His eyes, sharp despite his pallor, fix on me. "We have more pressing matters to discuss."

"Take a seat, Nicola." Claudio gestures at the chair across Tony's.

I do as I'm told. With Claudio here, I better be careful.

"The Armenians," Toby begins, but a rough cough interrupts him immediately. His entire body shakes as he tries to fight his way through the mucus. I reach out for the tissue in the holder on the desk, but Claudio is quicker than me. A white handkerchief makes an appearance out of his pocket and he hands it to Uncle, who accepts it without an argument.

I just sit there, wait for him to take care of his cough first. When he recovers, he goes on like nothing happened. "Have you made any progress on stemming the financial bleeding, Nicola?"

I weigh my response carefully. "I'm working on a solution, Uncle. It's... delicate."

"Delicate?" Tony's eyebrow arches. "Our family's future is at stake, Nico. We can't afford delicacy. I already allowed you to tap into our emergency fund to pay off the first half. We can't touch the rest of that money. If you do, people are going to say we're weak."

I'm torn between revealing Salvatore's betrayal and protecting my own secrets. "I understand, Uncle. I promise you, I'm close to resolving this. Just give me a little more time."

Tony leans forward, both fists on the desk, his gaze boring into me. "Time is a luxury we're running out of, nephew. I need results, not promises."

"Two days, Uncle. That's all I ask."

He stares at me with those eyes, the eyes that can still stop hearts. "It would be a shame, Nicola, if you turned into Roberto." His gaze never leaves me, and in this moment, caught between allegiance to my family and self-preservation, I feel completely alone. If I don't put myself in a position of power now, it might be too late altogether.

He needs to know about Salvatore.

Decision made, I shift in my chair slightly, resting both elbows on my knees and clasping my hands tightly. "Uncle, there's something you should know—"

A sharp knock interrupts me, the door swinging open before I can finish or before whoever is there is allowed to enter. Salvatore strides in, his presence electric and suffocating all at once.

"Dad," he greets Tony first, voice dripping with false warmth. "Claudio. How are you? I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Tony's face brightens slightly, but the frown doesn't go away completely. "Sal, come in. Your cousin was just updating me on our Armenian situation."

Salvatore's eyes shift over to me. "Oh? I'm sure Nico has some... fascinating insights to share."

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