Page 8 of Beloved
I lifted my glass inches higher before taking a swallow. “That is very true. This is magnificent, Don Pollizi. Sambuca. A favorite.”
“A man of discerning tastes and please call me Giovanni. Your father and I were lucky enough to build a friendship. I hope that will continue.” He also lifted his glass toward Mikhail, who’dhandled a good portion of our limited presentation. “I will have a case sent to you.”
“That would be very much appreciated, Giovanni.”
“You have a beautiful home,” Mikhail told him. “Sicily is incredible.”
“Well, I do hope you’re planning on spending some time in our beautiful country. I could offer you a few highlights that you must see. Our beaches must be a far cry from your icy terrain.” Giovanni laughed. “One never knows. You might fall in love with our culture and our people and decide to make Sicily your home. We have some amazing women who can fill your nights with passion.”
There was no reason not to be cordial, even if doing so went against my beliefs. But his comment pissed me off. I wasn’t here to play tourist. “Our family is grieving the death of a very important man. Our entire country is grieving as well. Family is what’s most important after all. I’m sure you would agree.”
His face clouded and I sensed his light irritation. “Yes, you’re right, of course. My apologies. Please allow me to express my family’s condolences. The loss of one’s patriarch is often necessary yet always painful.”
“Necessary,” Mikhail repeated. I knew the moment my brother’s fuse was about to blow. “A very crass statement considering our father’s body hasn’t begun to decay.”
The Don looked to me for guidance. “I am very sorry. I did not mean to insult you.”
I’d be damned if Mikhail wasn’t eager to pick a fight. His hands were clenched, which was exactly how he’d reacted to Stash.“Grief has many stages, Giovanni. For some, death is a bitter pill and difficult to understand. Unfortunately, we must be going.” After tossing back the remainder of the drink and placing the glass on the table, I noticed he was the first to offer his hand, the gesture the only contract required.
And he was offering his respect as well.
With the business completed, I nodded to Kirill and the others, eager to return to Moscow.
“Yes, of course. When can I expect the first shipment?” Giovanni asked as he led us from his office to the estate’s front door.
“Now that the details are settled, within the week. I’ll have my secretary notify yours of the actual date,” I told him.
“Excellent. I highly respected your father, Kazimir. He was always wise beyond his years. I can see so much of him within the two of you.”
Mikhail laughed. “I’m not sure my father would look on that as a compliment. He believed he was one of a kind.”
Giovanni shared in his laughter while I stood stoically. Maybe I was simply exhausted from the weight of all that had occurred.
We headed to the awaiting SUVs Kirill had arranged. With the airport less than thirty minutes away, we’d be in the air within the hour.
“Once we’re on the plane, go ahead and contact the plant manager, and give the go ahead for the transport,” I told Kirill who grinned.
“You got it, sir.”
“But mark the shipment carefully. I want to ensure our weapons get to the correct location.”
He was surprised by my request. We’d experienced treachery before with men replacing our weapons with little more than an arsenal full of toys.
“Understood.”
Unbuttoning my jacket, I glanced around the perimeter of the Don’s estate. Other than the ocean, all I could see were miles upon miles of vineyards. A waste of turf if you asked me.
Once inside, I settled into the seat and pulled my phone into my hand to check emails. Even our brutal organization had learned how valuable having various methods of communication could be.
Mikhail climbed onto the back passenger seat beside me. He’d had several excellent ideas on the twelve-hour plane ride, many of which I’d implement.
But right now, the tension between us was justified.
“I’m sorry for my outburst, but I don’t trust the Don or his men.”
“You’re more like me than you choose to believe, Mikhail. Trust no one. Not a soul. I’ve ordered a security measure be used on the next few shipments being sent to Pollizi. If he is fucking with us, I will know immediately.”
“And if he is?” My brother seemed even more eager than before.
