Page 112 of The Butcher's Wife
“Not since Dom beat him up, no.”
“He came to see me after that.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not going to apologize for what Dom did.”
“Geez.” Carlo exhales. “He?—”
“Champagne?” a sandy-haired server offers. His tattoos peek out from under his shirt sleeve as he extends the tray toward us.
Carlo throws an arm out in front of me and laughs. “No thanks, this one’s already had plenty!” he says, making an exaggerated drinking motion.
The server gives him a stiff smile and drifts away.
I shove Carlo. “I haven’t had anything to drink. You could’ve just told him no.”
“Okay, whatever. Anyway, Russell comes and finds me at the Velvet Kitty?—”
“Gross.”
“—and he says he’s been in love with Serafina for years. He said he’s leaving Chicago because…” Carlo rubs his neck. “Well, he says it’s tough for him to see you.”
The feeling’s mutual.
I guess I hoped Russell would’ve stayed, and maybe after a few years, we could’ve spoken about Serafina, but I’m relieved he’s leaving. I hope he finds peace wherever he goes.
Carlo leans in. “He said he had to stop by so he could tell you he’d caught wind of Aceto planning something tonight. Something big, but he didn’t know what. And I didn’t know if he was going crazy from the grief or what, but then I started paying attention. Look at the waiters.”
I swivel my head as discreetly as I can to take in the staff snaking through the crowd. Now that he mentions it, most of them are men, and they do have a harsh quality to them. A few have cauliflower ears or facial scars. Most have tattoos. All of them walk with a swaggering confidence that reminds me of many of the men I’ve grown up with.
I turn back to Carlo, who gives me a knowing look.
“Who are they?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m guessing Russians. Maybe Belarusians. Whatever they are, I’m not planning to stick around and find out, and neither should you.”
I look back at the party. Dom’s still speaking with the council member, but like the connection between us has been tugged, he glances in my direction and flashes me a subtle smile.
Neil’s playing the piano in the background, and the rest of my family’s here, laughing and chatting. Valeria’s here, somewhere. I can’t leave all these people to whatever Aceto has planned.
I turn to Carlo. “You go. I’m going to tell Dom, and we’ll figure something out.”
“If anyone needs to leave, it should be you.”
“Me?”
“Aceto, the rest. They all wantyou. You wanna protect everyone, then you go.”
His comment stings, but I see the truth in it. We already know Aceto’s in bed with the Chiarellis, and that his son thought it would be smart to attack me. If the best thing I can do is go back to the penthouse with Dom and let Don Salvatore handle this, then I can do that.
I nod. “Okay. I’m going to tell Valeria, I’ll grab Dom, and we’ll go.”
Carlo shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “You didn’t hear? She already left before you arrived.”
“It’s herdad’s party, how could she leave early?”
He glances around before dropping his head near mine and murmuring, “She’s probably scared. A little birdie told me her family got a late-night delivery the night you came by for a visit. You know Lasso?”
My stomach drops. I already know where this is headed.
