Page 85 of Till Death Do Us Part

“He won it in a game.”

Alfonso looked like he wanted to slap him. “What did I tell you about gambling with men like him? Men who manipulate the rules?”

“Manipulate the rules.” I leaned back so my food could be placed down. “It was a game of curling on a rooftop. Simple as that.”

“What will it take for you to go away, John?” Alfonso turned to me. His cheeks were as red as my glass of wine. “Name your price.”

“You can’t afford it.”

“I can afford anything.”

“Not this.”

“I learned the rules of these manipulative games you play from Sal. I refuse to play them because there is no winning for no-bullshit men like me. So cut to the fucking chase already, if you can manage it.”

“You can’t afford this because it doesn’t have a price.”

Alfonso was about to explode, but Emanuele lifted his hand, staring at my face. “He’s talking about Roma.”

I cut into my steak, salivating when the blood drained from the meat. I hacked a piece off and let the flavors flood my mouth, the red wine upping the taste. “I am talking about Roma.” I wiped my mouth on a napkin. “So this has nothing to do with money, which means you’ve already lost.”

Alfonso didn’t know how to respond to that. His face reminded me of Jack’s when I’d told him I didn’t have to manipulate the rules because I made them.

“Emanuele.” Alfonso turned to him. “We have an agreement.”

“Yes,” Emanuele said. “We do. You and Jack go get the car. I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes.”

That left the three of us.

Dr. Sala had been quiet the entire time, cutting his steak into small pieces, enjoying each bite. He was almost oblivious to the tension coming from the other side of the table. He was fucking serious when he said he meant to enjoy his meal and the view, but I knew he was absorbing every word of our conversation.

He seemed like a thoughtful man—a man not easily crossed, even if he was as slight as a bird.

Some of the most ruthless motherfuckers I’d ever met were men who looked like they gave quarters to kids in the neighborhood to buy candy back in the day.

“What made you interested in my daughter?” Corvo asked.

The question took me off guard, but I hid it well. Especially since I knew it wasn’t sincere. “I want her.” I gave him a simple answer to a much more complicated equation.

“You want her,” he almost mused. “I will have a talk with her about this—what youwanther for.”

“We all have secrets, don’t we, Doc?” My words were not in direct response to his, but in response to his threat.

Corvo drained the rest of his glass, told Dr. Sala he would see him at his daughter’s wedding, then left.

Dr. Sala sopped up the juices left on his plate with a piece of bread. He drained the last of his wine. Then he ordered dessert and espresso. The server asked if I’d like anything, and I told him no. I finished eating in silence while Dr. Sala started on his apple cake.

“You made a valid point tonight, Felice.” Dr. Sala wiped his mouth. “I only hope Emanuele caught it.”

“What point was that?”

The world wasn’t a place I put much value in, but this old man was growing on me, and he’d hardly said a word. Maybe because I felt he was truly open to listening to both sides. He didn’t seem to have an agenda either way, just working toward the common good of whatever was on the table.

“There is no price on love.” He set his fork down, wiped his mouth again, and drained his glass. “There are also no rules when it pertains to claiming it, or one road to get to it.”

“I made the first point, but not the second.”

He laughed. “Perhaps not, but that is what I got from the conversation.” He squeezed my shoulder. “How about a walk, ah? We will get to know each other better.”

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