Page 23 of The Mastermind
This meeting was the reason I’d cut my encounter with Maddelena short. That and the sense that I was wasting my time since she intended to stick to her bullshit narrative.
‘We’ll be there in about a half hour,’ he replied.
I nodded, relieved I had a little time before I needed to slip into my underboss skin. While the blood of the Cosa Nostra ran through my veins, it was a fucking pain in the ass balancing two lifelong destinies on a full-time basis.
But since this was how I’d sold my shiny deal of walking two paths instead of one to my grandfather, I had no choice but to stay on that tightrope. One slip and Orazio would yank away his goodwill without a second thought. He was still spitting nails over my coming third two weeks ago.
I winced as I replayed our conversation when I’d finally answered his call after leaving La Miraggio.
‘You’re fifty-four points behind that littlepezzi. At twenty-five points for first place, you know that means more than two full races where he doesn’t place in the top ten for you to get back on top,sì?’ he’d ranted, as if I couldn’t count.
Orazio had a way of pointing out the obvious as a riling technique. As a way of emphasising your failures or stupidity. I knew that. We all knew it, and yet it was a sharp arrow that didn’t fail to land a bull’s eye every single time.
You know you totalled your mother’s car with that stupid stunt, sì?
Yeah, Nonno, I was right fucking there, behind the wheel when the bumper 69’d the oak tree.
My fingers had curled around my phone as I fought to remain calm. ‘I know that,Nonno. I’m fixing it.’
‘Oh yeah? How? By standing two steps down on the podium and glaring your way through our sacred national anthem?’ He laughed then, a full-belly laugh as if he was being entertained at the Comedy Club. Then he’d sobered with chilling swiftness. ‘This wasn’t what you promised me, Cesare.Winningwas what you promised. Yet here I am, like a piece of shit being dragged through the mud by your failure. Salvatores do not get dragged through the mud,capisci?’
‘Capisci,’ I’d echoed, bypassing the fact that I’d delivered on my promise for two years in a row and made us a shit load of money in the process.
His exhale was loud with a distinct rattle, the effects of years of sucking on cohibas and guzzling bourbon showing more frequently as he approached his eightieth birthday. ‘You need me to make some calls? I know the Minister for Transport over there. He owes me several favours.’
Fuck no. The last thing I wanted was for Orazio to catch a whiff of any suspicious activity or gain a foothold into my dream. He would bulldoze his way into what was still a manageablesituation and blow it out of proportion. ‘No, I don’t,grazii. I have things under control.’
He’d grunted. ‘See that you do,niputi. Because I want that one-forty million.’
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t personally claim the prize money that came with winning the Formula One Constructors’ Championship. That it was strictly for the development of next year’s race car. Orazio acted like losing it would be tantamount to having it stolen from his personal bank account.
‘…a man’s word is his life’s blood. You swore an oath.’
My jaw gritted at the third reminder. My promise may as well have been written in blood.
Two point five billion in five years in lucrative deals had seemed like an achievable goal when I’d presented my plan to my grandfather, knowing that the lure of it would sway him into allowing me to achieve my dream of becoming a race driver.
And it’d worked. Especially when I’d sworn heaven and earth to fulfil my underboss duties alongside this new venture. I hadn’t told them that this was my ultimate aim – to pull thefamigghiaout of organised crime and into something fully legitimate. Yeah, that would’ve earned me several broken bones and another spell scrubbing toilets. Or worse.
‘And I will deliver,Nonno. You have my word,’ I’d said.
He’d read me the riot act for another five minutes, then ended the call. But not before summoning me back home after the next race. I’d already used the excuse of chasing Salvatore Organisation business in Sicily to not return home to New York after the Monza race, so I knew better than to even try it again.
I could delay my return by a day or two but no longer than that. And to make that inevitable confrontation a little more bearable, I needed answers.
Especially when my meeting with Maddelena hadn’t yielded anything more than the inkling that she wasn’t being entirely truthful.
Predictably, my mind sprinted back to when she’d walked through the door tonight.
Already detesting the sizzling impatience going off under my skin like irritating little fireworks, some part of me had hoped she would’ve lost some of her allure in two short weeks.
Fat fucking chance.
Sure, that jumpsuit had covered more than the cocktail dress revealed, but all the curves, hills and valleys had been in plain sight. Begging to be rediscovered and explored.
Even watching her eat a steak had turned me on.
Jesus, I had it bad.
