Page 119 of Mafia Kings: Dario

“If he was going to kill you,” Fausto replied, “he would have murderedallof you at the same time. Not just pick off two of you in Florence, enrage the rest of you, and start a war.”

All of the brothers were silent.

EvenIhad to admit that what their uncle said made sense.

Fausto shook his head. “Someonewantsyou to think the Turk and the Agrellas are trying to kill you. Someonewantsto blow up the situation. Find out who that is, and you’ll find out who tried to kill Massimo and Valentino yesterday.”

“And Alessandra,” Dario said.

“…and Alessandra,” Fausto agreed. He smiled at me… and a shiver ran down my spine.

38

Dario

After the meeting, everyone was supposed to have lunch together – but no one could be bothered to keep up the charade of ‘one big happy family.’

Fausto said his goodbyes and promised to pass on any information that came his way. Aurelio just ignored us and got back in the Rolls Royce with his father.

As they drove away, Alessandra looked at me with wide eyes. “Was that… normal?”

I smiled grimly. “Things were different when my father was alive.”

“Although Aurelio wasalwaysa little prick,” Adriano said.

“More like a gigantic asshole whohasa little prick,” Valentino muttered.

As we made our way to the patio for lunch, Niccolo asked Alessandra, “What didyouthink?”

“I don’t trust either of them.” She suddenly looked nervous, like she was afraid she shouldn’t have said it out loud. “…not to insult your uncle or cousin…”

“Insult away,” I said. “They did their fair share of insultingus.”

“Whydon’t you trust them?” Niccolo asked her.

“Well… I’ve seen a lot of people pass through my father’s café. Most have been pleasant, but there are always difficult customers. Aurelio reminds me of the ones who are never satisfied. They walk in the door angry, and nothing you can say or do will win them over. They’relookingfor a fight. And Fausto is like the overly friendly man who acts like your best friend to your face, but then you find all the packets of sugar and honey are missing after he’s gone. And he usually shortchanges you on the bill, as well.”

Niccolo burst out laughing, then turned to me. “I don’t think she could have describedeitherof them more perfectly.”

“True,” I agreed.

Alessandra blushed and smiled at the praise.

“I want to discuss something with Dario for a moment,” Niccolo told her. “Go join the others for lunch, and we’ll be there in just a moment.”

She nodded, gave me a smile, and walked off towards the patio.

“What is it?” I asked.

“News came in about that priest and the lowlife at the church,” Niccolo said. “I literally got a text at the end of the meeting.”

“And?”

“Connections to the Oldani family,” Niccolo said.

The Oldanis were the most powerful crime family in Genoa, 150 miles from Florence. They had also employed Umberto Fumagalli, the man Lars had gunned down in Alessandra’s café.

“The timing’s suspicious,” I muttered, “coming right after Fausto’s speech about ‘find out who’s behind it all.’”

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