Page 39 of Runaway in the Mafia
My mind ran wild with the options and came up with zero. Batista, no. Romeo, fuck no. Angelo, no no.Jesus!Why did I only have good-looking cousins who had a thing for Ahana?Bastardi.
“You are all fucking bastards.” I disconnected the line.
A whiff in the air distracted me as I pushed off the car. A glance to the right found what I knew would be there. For fuck’s sake. Couldn’t a man get a break?
Armando gave me a frown when I didn’t acknowledge him as he opened the door for me. Instead, I stormed past him, through the halls, and burst into Antonio’s office. “Why the fuck do you have aPlumeriatree in your garden?”
He looked up from his computer, a frown on his forehead.
Armando came up behind me. “Mi scusi, signorCapizzi,SignorDi Matteo didn’t give me the chance to tell you he’s here.”
“Fuck’s sake.” I brushed him off and walked to the armchair in the corner of the room. “We are not in fucking America now.”
“It’s okay, Armando.”
He walked out, closing the door behind him.
I lit a cigar and puffed like a madman. “Well?”
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re all wound up, even for you.” He rubbed his jaw. Cool. Calm. Unbothered. “The last time you were like this was about a year ago, I think.” His gaze was heavy, and it spelled out the words I didn’t want to read.I know.
Of course he must have known. He wasn’t an idiot. So what? I’d walked into a shady apartment of Carlo’s and found him with his new favourite whore riding him. That wasn’t the issue because, well… nothing new in that. But it hadn’t stopped me from putting a gun to his forehead and blowing his head off.
Or paying said whore to shut the hell up.
If she had listened to me, that would have been the end of it. One death on my hands. One I would have repeated. Again and again. But she had to go to the Albanians and snitch. Not like I was left with an option other than to burn the fucking place down with her and the Albanian right hand in it.Vero?
But I didn’t tell him that under the beam of his laser eyes. I didn’t tell him that Carlo had planned to divorce Mamma so he could marry the next whore he found his dick buried in.
Maybe it hadn’t been the only option. Maybe I should have confided in myconsigliere. You know, the actual fucking diplomat in theCosa Nostrawho was a genius at coming up with compromises. I should have allowed myself to cool off and let him do his magic. Show off his negotiation talents.
But he loved Carlo. He had looked up to him. He probably thought he owed him for making him hisconsigliereat the young age of thirty. And he hated his mamma. He wouldn’t have understood. Wouldn’t have understood the degree of embarrassment Mamma would have had to go through if I had kept Carlo alive. And I couldn’t. I wouldn’t stand by and watch that woman fall apart. I didn’t care if she painted me in the same charcoal black as her husband. I didn’t care that she looked at me with apprehension crisscrossed across her face. I’d seen the image of her potential shame, and before I knew it, I’d burst through that door and put a bullet in his head.
“What’s your interest in the tree?”
“What’s your fucking point?”
His look was pensive. It weighed heavily. He rocked back on his chair, no doubt passing judgement on my actions. You’d think I’d be filled with shame. Who the fuck killed their own father? That was a line we rarely crossed, even in theCosa Nostrawhen we handled drugs and money like pasta andvino. But that’s the only crimson I liked painted on my hands. Well, that and another fucker that would hopefully paint them soon enough.
I’d told her. The secret I’d been carrying around that no one else knew. Because I had wanted her to trust me like I trusted her. It made me feel better that she knew it. Like she knew the real Vitale behind the facade. It felt like a balm soothing the burn in my heart.
“What?” I didn’t catch his words.
“Something’s bothering you.”
“Not really.” FuckingPlumeria. “Can we get back to my question?”
“What’s the tree called?”
“Plumeria.”And I found my mistake.
“Since when were you into nomenclature?”
Since I found it wrapped in a tiny towel.
“Forget it.” I leaned back, spread my legs, and puffed madly.
Across from me, his stare told me I hadn’t convinced him with my nonchalance. “Divya loves it. You know, I think Ahana—”
