Page 18 of The Fixer

Antonio nods, his face expressionless. “Leo is a valuable member of my team, and I don’t want him to start his marriage on a sour note. The Trans are now family. I will be happy to cover their debt.”

“Good.” Santini’s expression is sour. “When’s the wedding?”

“We haven’t set a date.”

His eyes narrow. “Set one,” he says coldly. “And make it soon. I want to dance at Cesari’s wedding.”

Guerra’s lips tighten in annoyance, but he doesn’t say anything to contradict his boss. “Next month, then,” Antonio responds. “Is that soon enough for you?”

“Yes.” Santini leans forward. “Let’s talk terms.”

The two of them start to haggle. I listen to the conversation, my thoughts drifting. Rosa was worried about me. It’s been a long time since someone’s cared enough to worry. I thought it would feel constrictive, but it didn’t.

I didn’t know she took MMA classes. I think about her in gym clothes, shorts gripping her round ass, sweat dripping down her body, her hands up and her legs spread in a boxer’s stance, and my cock stirs. Fuck me, but I want to wrestle her into submission, lay her down on the mat, part her legs, and lick her until she comes. I want?—

“Good, we have a deal.” Antonio’s voice jerks me from my thoughts. I replay the last couple of minutes of the conversation. I’m getting married to Rosa next month, Rocco Santini will be attending the wedding, and the Trans have to leave Lecce within the week. In exchange for ten million eurosand a new trade route for smuggled goods, Spina Sacra will renounce their retribution.

Rosa’s brother is going to be okay.

“We do,” Santini agrees sourly. “But be warned, Moretti. Money comes and goes like rain from the sky. What separates a man from the beast is honor. Tran has besmirched mine.” He gives me a long look. “But if I get the slightest sign that this is all a ruse?—”

Antonio gets to his feet. “We’re done here.” He shakes Santini’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

It’s drizzling outside.A cloudy, starless night. We walk in silence to Antonio’s car. Once we’re safely inside, Antonio calls Valentina. It’s late, but she picks up on the first ring. “We got a deal done,” he says. “Nobody dies.”

She exhales in relief. “Thank you, padrino.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Leo.” His fingers beat a restless dance on the steering wheel. “Max Guerra. I want a dossier on him as soon as possible. Dropeverything else you’re working on. Oh, and also, send me a copy of your wedding guest list, please.”

“My wedding guest list?” Valentina asks, sounding confused.

“Yes. Someone there talked to Spina Sacra. I want to know who.”

He hangs up, and we drive in silence. The wipers move back and forth, cleaning the raindrops that splatter the windshield, their movement hypnotic. “They have eyes in Venice,” he says finally. His voice is level, but I know the padrino. He’s furious.

“Yes.”

“Venice is impossible to secure. Too many damn tourists.” A muscle ticks in his cheek. “Santini’s itching for a war.”

“I got that sense, too. Any idea why?”

“Who knows? Maybe Tran really did steal the money, like he implied.”

So Antonio caught that as well. I’m not surprised.

“Find out what happened to it, if you can,” he continues. “But if I had to guess, I’d say the money is a smokescreen. Santini is looking for a fight so he can clean house in the tumult.” He shakes his head. “All that talk about honor. His daughter is twenty-six,and he married her off to Lorenzo Corio. A sixty-five-year-old abusive alcoholic.”

I didn’t know that. I try to ignore the uncomfortable parallels. Sure, I’m not abusive or an alcoholic—today’s drinking spree is an exception, not the rule—but the age difference between Rosa and I is almost as bad. “Why?”

“Santini has a son, Romeo, that he’s grooming to be his successor. But Corio also wants the top job. He was getting restive, so Santini sold his daughter to him to keep him happy.” His lips twist. “A man like that wouldn’t know what honor is if it slapped him in the face.” He glances at me. “I don’t want a war,” he says. “For a thousand little reasons and one very big one. Lucia is pregnant.”

For the first time today, my heart lightens. “She is? Padrino, my congratulations.”

“Thank you. It’s early. We’re not telling anyone yet.” His expression is very serious. “Know this, Leo. I will sacrifice Hugh Tran and Rosa’s entire family before I raise my child in a war zone. Santini’s itching for a fight. It’s up to you to defuse the situation.”

I take a deep breath, afraid of where this is going.

“As soon as the two of you get back home, move in together. Dates, romantic evenings, candlelightdinners—do them all. Have dinner with her family every week. Everyone—and I mean everyone—needs to believe this is a real marriage. Do I make myself clear?”

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