Page 39 of The Secrets We Keep

He smiled. “I’m just the messenger. But you’ll definitely have to tell me how you negotiated that into your deal.”

Slipping her arms into her jacket, she chuckled. “I promise. I’ll see you Monday.”

Sienna turned to the side while she freed her hair from the collar of her jacket and carefully arranged it around her neck again to hide her scar. Hooking her purse over her shoulder, she took the stairs down to the lobby and buzzed herself out of the building.

Pausing on the sidewalk, she breathed in deep lungfuls of air. In through the nose, out through the mouth until her heart stopped racing. Luca might have asked her to wait on Nero, but he hadn’t said anything about anyone else.

At least a dozen men had been involved in murdering her family. The names of each and every one were probably hidden in her uncle’s files. What better way to pass the time while she waited for Luca’s green light to kill her uncle than to take out the men who’d pulled the triggers?

Isa was home sick today. And before she closed her eyes to sleep tonight, Sienna was going to have the names she needed. And then she was going to start executing people.

Chapter Eighteen

“Little risky inviting Bonacci today, don’t you think?” Luca wondered, standing at the front of his SUV with Matteo watching Bonacci’s town car pull in behind them.

“No.”

Luca raised a brow. “They’ve been political allies for years. What if Restivo tells him about the blackmail?”

“Considering one of the women Restivo has been fucking is Bonacci’s pretty new wife, I doubt he’ll say anything other than what I tell him to say.”

A slow smile spread across Luca’s lips. Another gift from Sienna’s digging. Bonacci joined them, flanked by two bodyguards who looked them up and down.

“I apologize for dragging you to the other side of the island,” Bonacci said, adjusting his suit jacket. “Fausto is particular about these kinds of meetings.”

“We understand the need for discretion,” Matteo replied. “I’m glad you were able to join us. You and your family have always been valuable friends to us.”

“I’m glad we could restore our relationship. It pained me when your father let it lapse. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”

Luca and Matteo shared a look. No doubt Bonacci missed the extra zeros in his bank account more.

“We appreciated the gift you sent. Bruno Giacosa wine was my father’s favorite.”

Bonacci nodded slowly. “We drank it many times. Your father was a generous man. But”—a smile crept over his lips—“the heir is even more generous, I think. Come. Let’s not keep Fausto waiting.”

They trailed Bonacci up the front walk to Restivo’s palatial family villa. Rather than meeting at his home in Palermo, they were instead directed to Restivo’s family villa in Catania. Matteo had grumbled about it, but Luca considered it a bonus. He’d insisted on driving separately and planned on having Sienna underneath him and coming on his cock before dinner.

The stone walkway was lined with neatly trimmed shrubs and what Luca imagined would be brilliant blooms in the right weather. A wrought iron chandelier hung on a long chain under the covered stoop. At night it would illuminate a set of double doors inlaid with silver accents and a silver door knocker in the shape of a lion’s head, its mouth open in a silent roar and polished to a gleaming shine.

One side of the door swung open on a uniformed maid, young, pretty, timid. She stared mostly at their shoulders or the floor as she took coats and scurried away with them. Another woman in a different uniform came to escort them, leading them down a long hallway lined with religious art and relics preserved behind tempered glass.

Luca shared a look with Matteo and swallowed a grin. Restivo seemed to make a hobby out of collecting Catholic artifacts. Maybe he was trying to balance out the sins he regularly committed to keep his soul out of hell.

They stopped in the doorway of a long, narrow formal dining room with a dark wood table that easily sat thirty people. Elaborate place settings were clustered to one end, and the woman encouraged them to sit.

“Signore Restivo will be right with you. He’s just finishing up an important call.”

Bonacci’s bodyguards flanked the door while they sat. Luca glanced over at them as a maid came out of nowhere to pour him a glass of wine. They made imposing figures in their black suits with their big, beefy hands clasped in front of them.

Staring straight ahead, they didn’t move a muscle when Restivo skated in, his dark hair peppered with gray and slicked back. The man smiled with practiced ease, stopping behind his chair and bracing his hands on the back of it.

“Welcome to my home. I appreciate you coming all this way.”

“It’s not a problem,” Matteo assured him.

Restivo flicked a glance at Bonacci, who quickly straightened and made introductions. “Fausto, this is Matteo Bianchi, owner of the Bianchi casinos now that his father has passed, and his brother Luca.”

Restivo’s gaze flickered between them, and he nodded before extending his hand. “I read about your father’s death in the paper. Very sad.”

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