Page 160 of Wounded King
Alfonzo was our accountant before he was killed a few weeks ago.
"Guess his death turned out to be a blessing in disguise," I mutter.
"Depends on who you ask," Toni replies. "But yeah. You see the dates?"
I squint, then whistle low. "Well, fuck."
"Yep." He gives a grim nod. "Looks like Alfonzo paid for his own kidnapping."
The transfer happened two days before Alfonzo and his wife were taken.
"But why would Edoardo want our accountant kidnapped?" I ask. "He's the Don—he already has access to the books."
"Not these books," Toni corrects. "I've got them encrypted. Olaf Peter, for example? That's you. And Orsina BioSolutions? That's Kartoffel Inc."
Orsina BioSolutions is the little company I started back in Sicily. Quiet and clean. Over time, I took control of nearly every major API supplier on the continent. Think of APIs—Active Pharmaceutical Ingredients—as flour. No flour, no cake. Without me, the big pharma companies don't get to bake anything.
It's cleaner than my father's extortion rackets. Smarter. Twenty-first-century criminal enterprise. I'm making billions off that—and that's just the icing. The cake's got so many layers that most people can't even see it.
Now, Toni's point is coming into focus. As our money launderer, Toni controls the financials, the bookkeepers, and the accountants. Alfonzo's death nearly cost him his life. Technically, Edoardo has the right to inspect our records—but with Toni's encryption, he never knows who owns what. It's the perfect safety net. Keeps Edoardo from overreaching, and keeps us from double-dealing each other.
"So why would Edoardo want access beyond the numbers?" I ask.
"That's the million-dollar question," Toni replies. "He doesn't need to know BioSolutions is Kartoffel Inc., just that the numbers are right and taxes are paid. That's the whole system."
"So he had Alfonzo and his wife kidnapped and tortured… for information Alfonzo didn't even have," I say.
"Looks that way."
We exchange a dark look, whatever Edoardo's really after… it can't be good.
"I'm still digging, but I think the meeting and vote should be done soon. I don't know if he planned any of this with Donna Margarita or if she had any details…" Toni drifts off.
I shake my head. "Some of the things we thought Edoardo was behind weren't him at all, but Donna Margarita. Whatever Edoardo is plotting now, I don't think Margarita knew anything about it. He outmaneuvered her when she trapped him into marrying her daughter, and she tried to regain control."
"Alright." Toni rises. "We can talk about it more with Enrico and Stephano this weekend and go over what we have, then set up a formal meeting after your wedding to hash out the details." He hesitates, then holds out his hand. "We good?"
"We're good." I take his hand and shake it. I decide to hold no grudge against him for his involvement in Angelo's death. I probably should, but this isn't the old mafia anymore. New generations are emerging, and we can't hold on to the same old shit our parents did.
"See you in Vegas." Toni grins.
"I got a poker room booked for the bachelor party." I grin back.
"Your best man is supposed to arrange that," he chides.
"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure if I was going to have to kill my best man tonight or not, so I did it myself."
Toni breaks out into loud laughter. "I'd love to see you try." When he sobers, he looks at me. "So, you want me to be your best man?"
I shrug, "If you're not too busy. Someone has to do the job." I could have asked Luciano, but this feels right.
"Count me in." He nods at me, then leaves me alone in the office. I walk over to the large window and stare out at the city below. The view from here is not as impressive as the view from my penthouse, but it's still fascinating.
I pour myself another Blue Label and sip it, letting the silence settle for a moment. Toni's laughter still echoes faintly in my ears, but it's gone now, just like the tension between us. I didn't know if this meeting would end with a handshake or a gunshot. Both were on the table.
But somehow, this world keeps changing. And so do we.
I glance up at the floors above me. Violet is up there. My fiancée. Waiting for me. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. The woman who walked into my life with no idea what she was stepping into—and somehow managed to upend everything I thought I knew about loyalty, softness, and even the idea ofhome. She's been a nurse, a protector, a pain in my ass, and the only woman who ever dared to tell me no and make me like it.
