Page 51 of The Bonventi Secret
Fucking hell.
Then did Enzo kill his father?
ENZO - 18
Iwalk down the hallway, Marco following close behind. The guard at my office door nods, stepping aside to let us enter. As soon as the door shuts, Marco's façade of the lighthearted charmer evaporates.
"Zo, we've got a problem. The Rossi family isn't buying the story about Carmine," he says. His voice is terse, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
I pause, my hand hovering over the crystal decanter on my desk. Fuck. I'd hoped our original plan would have worked, or at the very least, we'd have more time before all this came to a head. I pour myself two fingers of whiskey, not offering any to Marco. He wouldn't take it anyway—not when he's this on edge.
"How certain are you?" I ask, taking a slow sip, the smoky liquid burning a path down my throat.
"Very. My sources say they're not just suspicious—they're fucking livid. They know it wasn't an accident."
I nod. "And your sources—how reliable are they?"
"Very," he says, pacing. "They're convinced we killed him in cold blood. They're saying it's an act of war."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. War with the Rossi family—it's the last thing we need right now. My mind races, weighing the potential consequences, the blood that would be spilled.
"Fuck," I mutter. "We've just secured the Demitrakis deal. They'll balk if we're in the middle of a fight."
"But what can we do? An attack is imminent," Marco says. "We need to move fast, shore up our defenses. Maybe even strike first."
I take another sip, letting the silence stretch. Marco's always been impulsive, quick to panic. But he's not wrong to be concerned.
"What do your police contacts say?" I ask finally.
Marco shakes his head. "Nothing concrete yet, but there's chatter. Increased activity around known Rossi hangouts. Weapons moving through their usual channels. It all seems normal until it's not."
"And your security detail? Any unusual movement around City Hall?"
"No, not yet. But Zo, if they come after me?—"
"They won't," I cut him off. "You're the legitimate face of this family. Attacking the Vice Mayor would bring down too much heat, even for the Rossis."
He shakes his head, agreeing with me.
"We'll double security. Quietly. Use our most trusted men. Stay away from your usual haunts for a while. I'll inform Gio of the same," I say.
"And what about you?" Marco asks. "If they're coming for anyone, it'll be you, Zo."
I smile coldly. "Let them try."
Marco opens his mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand. "I've got it handled, little brother. Focus on keeping your nose clean and your head down. We can't afford scrutiny, especially with the mayor potentially on his way out."
Marco stops pacing. "What about our options?"
"Options?"
"Well, there's always negotiations."
I know exactly what he's suggesting—a tribute, a payoff to keep the Rossis at bay. The mere thought makes my stomach turn. It's a concession of weakness, a stain on the Bonventi name.
"Unacceptable," I state. "I will not submit to those snakes."
Marco raises a hand. "Zo, please. Sometimes we have to swallow our pride for the family. Think about Livia. It's not just you now."
