Page 8 of Corrupted Empire

“Ya!” Harry replies happily.

Alexis reads the book slowly, flipping the pages and showing Harry the pictures. When she’s finished, she tucks him under the blanket and flicks the light off, but doesn’t leave. Instead, she stands over his crib, watching as he drifts off to sleep. We used to do that together sometimes. I would rest my hand on her waist. She would lean against my chest.

My hand reaches for my phone, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I dial the number for the apartment’s landline. It rings, and Alexis straightens and looks over her shoulder.

She tiptoes out of Harry’s room and closes the door behind her. The phone keeps ringing, and I start to wonder if I’m actually going to talk to her. Alexis enters the frame on the kitchen camera and reaches for the phone on the counter.

My heart gives a dull thud. I hang up.

Alexis answers, and I can see her confusion as she realizes there is nobody there. She hangs up and sets the phone on the counter, staring at it like it’s going to start ringing again any second now.

I feel guilty somehow. Like I disturbed a perfect moment between mother and son for nothing. Like I got Alexis’ hope up that something exciting was about to happen. Like I nearly started to mend the bridge between us.

Another impulse strikes me, and I reach for my phone again. This time I don’t call the apartment, but Angelo, one of the guards waiting outside of it. I deliver his orders and then sit back and wait, watching as Alexis fills the dishwasher and wipes down the countertops. Afterward she walks around the apartment, picking up toys, rearranging pillows, and tidying up stacks of books and papers. She is putting a new garbage bag in the bin when her buzzer sounds.

I sit forward in the chair and select the camera in the front hallway. Alexis walks to the door and opens it, her eyes widening with shock as Angelo hands her a large bunch of roses. I don’t know where he found them at this hour, but I make a mental note to reward him for his quick work.

Angelo leaves as quickly as he came—none of the guards are supposed to speak with her. Alexis carries the flowers into the apartment, and as she enters the view of the camera in the kitchen, I can see that she is grinning from ear to ear. She looks utterly delighted.

My lips turn up into a smile as I watch her sniff the roses.

One second lurches into the next, and I realize what a fucking idiot I am. I slam the lid of my laptop closed, disgusted at myself. How could I let myself be drawn in by her so easily? I haven’t spoken to Alexis in over a month, yet in a moment of weakness, I’m suddenly buying her flowers?

I need to get a grip. Alexis is my kryptonite, and right now, I need to stay as strong as possible. I check my watch, realizing that I have wasted an hour watching Alexis, and I now only have one hour to prepare for my meeting.

Time flies when you’re busy being a lovesick fool.

I vow that this will be the last time.

I make this vow a lot. I think it is starting to lose its power.

* * *

I stare at the faces assembled around the long wooden table, wondering which of them will object most fervently to the strategy I am about to propose. There are my five capos—Mirko Bernadino, Dom Rozzi, Elia Conti, Piero Bianchi, and Thomas Ricci. Of those, I think Mirko and Dom will disapprove the most. Mirko won’t think it’s a good idea. Dom just won’t want to see me get hurt.

My lieutenant Antonio will have misgivings at first, but he is very tired. Any strategy that might give us an edge, which might draw this conflict to a quick resolution, will be welcomed by him.

Silvano…I’m not sure. I know if Vito were here, he would nod through the meeting but pull me aside afterward to try to talk me out of it. He would begrudgingly agree in the end that it was worth trying, and we would have a glass of whiskey together while he talked about how in love he was with his wife.

But Silvano is not Vito, and I am still getting my bearings with him. He seems to possess Vito’s shrewd analytical mind without the familiarity we shared, which might make him the best advisor a leader could ask for. Our bond sometimes clouded Vito’s judgment. After Vito was killed by the Irish, I nearly razed the whole city to the ground.

I clear my throat, and the men sit forward, listening intently.

“I gathered you here to propose a strategy that could help us get rid of a number of Cartel members at once,” I begin. “As you know, they have been getting the Irish to do most of their dirty work, keeping relatively clear of the smaller operations. That’s because they’re holding back, preserving their strength while Lynch bleeds dry.”

They nod along. I take a breath.

“I say it’s time we draw them out.”

“How would we do that?” Silvano asks, eyes narrowed.

“Well, Silvano, it was you who gave me the idea. You said it was too dangerous for me to keep leading the charge, that it might draw attention from the police. But it may have already drawn attention from The Cartel. Given the chance, I think they will try to capture me, and when they do, it will be with their own men—not their Irish lackeys. They wouldn’t risk me falling into anyone’s hands but their own.”

Unease ripples across the gathered faces at the idea of me being captured. Most of the faces, anyway.

“What are you proposing?” Antonio asks, a spark of interest in his coffee-colored eyes.

“I propose we set a trap,” I reply. “One where I am the bait.”

---