Page 31 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
Except, he just returned from California, didn’t he? Now, he’s headed to Italy. Maybe rehab did clear his muddled mind?
“Love makes us vulnerable.”
My jaw slackens in surprise.
“But vulnerability is a weakness. Capisci?”
Is he talking about my brother’s relationship, my feelings, or are we back to Alessia Amato?
“You’ll stay here for the week, then take the jet to Sardinia. I’ve arranged for additional medical care at a trusted facility.” He jabs a finger at me. “Don’t defy me, or I’ll burn your goddamn villa to the ground.”
Jesus. “I’ll check into the damn facility for a few days,” I retort. How many days depends on the doctors and how persuasive I can be.
“Recover in Italy until further notice.”
Renzo was right. I’ll be hidden away while he does damage control. “Don Lucchese will consider it disrespectful if I don’t visit him.”
“I’ll handle your godfather.”
“Tommaso will accompany me.” It’s delivered as a statement, not request.
“After I have awordwith him.”
Well, shit. But Tommaso’s a big boy. Who fears one man—the great Sebastiano Beneventi. Don’t we all?
He stands, having said what he came to say.
“Prima la famiglia,” I mutter.
He locks eyes with me. “That’s right.” Then he repeats my words, and the creed I’ve been brought up on. “Family first, always.”
“I won’t let you down again.”
Humiliation sinks its claws in deep. I’m disgusted—for breaking lockdown, getting ambushed, disappointing him, and worst of all, by endangering the Beneventi name when the vote for capo di tutti capi looms so close. I’ll do whatever it takes to repair the damage, to earn back my father’s respect. Starting with cleaning up the mess I made—and putting a bullet in that stranzo Conti.
He nods curtly. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
CHAPTER 5
RILEY
“Who’s Emilio Smith?”
I clutch the crumpled fax I found under Ciro’s desk, my question reverberating through the office. Hours spent organizing bills, entering invoices into the online ledger for “transparency,” as Ciro likes to gripe, balancing C&C Enterprises expenses to ensure contractors get paid, and keeping his desk clear—once again.
I shouldn’t care that the CEO of C&C Enterprises dumps paperwork on his desk like a child emptying a backpack. Survive the summer—that’s my goal. His crew will be paid on time, so the effort was worth it. Still, who will manage Ciro’s sloppy business practices when I’m gone?
Not your problem, Riley. The worst will be behind you.
The fax is a hotel confirmation for a six-month stay in a bungalow suite at the Grand Hotel di Palermo, fully paid for with Monero cryptocurrency. The name on the reservation is Emilio Smith.
It’s an unusual bill, and I’m unsure how it should be categorized—travel expenses? Entertainment?
I should leave; Emily and I have a dinner date, and I’ll be rushed if I don’t hurry. But unlike Ciro, I take pride in my organizational skills and instead set off in search of answers.
C&C Enterprises is housed inside an old garment manufacturing warehouse. Half the space is allotted to construction vehicles and equipment. Dividing the large space is the main entrance, the “Grand Foyer,” Ciro calls it, because of the steel beams crisscrossing the pitched ceiling, which gives it a cathedral-like feel. Cubicles have been set up on the other half of the warehouse, with Ciro’s office running along the back exterior wall.
I track him down near the cement mixer.
