Page 65 of The Beast Who Broke Me
But just after one in the morning, someone starts hammering at the door and leaning on the buzzer.
I’m on my feet before I’m fully thinking, gun in hand, running down the stairs in only my underwear.
Rosa is already in the foyer in her robe. Vito is behind her, shotgun in hand. “Both of you get back to the kitchen,” I order.
They don’t move. The bell goes again, hard and angry. The security feed shows a man under the portico, shoulders hunched against the cold, one hand braced on the security shutter like he’s considering ripping the whole thing off.
He glares up into the camera. It’s the Morelli Underboss. Nick Fontana.
I thumb the intercom. “You lost?”
“Open the door, Orsini.”
“It’s late.”
“That’s why I’m in such a shitty mood. Open the fucking door.”
I let up the security screen and crack the door slightly, gun in view. Fontana is wearing a dark overcoat over a tracksuit, hair rumpled like he dragged himself out of bed and would rather be back there.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“To see the Clemenza boy.”
Usually I correct anyone who calls him a boy. He’s a prince, he’s a viper, he’s a threat, he’s…
“Well?” Fontana demands. “Where is he?”
“Asleep.”
“Then wake him up. Finch hasn’t heard from him. He’s supposed to check in every day. You know that.”
Of course I know. I memorized the code for the phone the night we came home from the French restaurant, and I’ve been making sure to check in for the Clemenza while he’s been in the basement. Except tonight I…
I forgot.
“Finch also said he didn’t like the tone of the last few check-ins,” Fontana goes on. “Said they didn’t sound like the kid. And when the Boss’s husband is cranky, that means the Boss is cranky, too. SoIgot sent out in the middle of the damn night to deal with shitI shouldn’t need to be dealing with, becauseyougave your word, Orsini.”
I did my best to keep my texts brief, similar to the kind of thing Caligula had sent before. I guess I didn’t imitate him as well as I hoped. “He’s fine,” I say.
“Then you won’t mind proving it.”
From behind me, Rosa’s voice cuts in. “I’ll get him.” I turn, but she’s already moving, gray hair in a braid down her back. She hurries up the stairs before I can stop her.
“So, you gonna let me in or make me freeze my balls off out here?” Fontana grumbles.
I lead him into the great room. The fire is low but still alive, red coals glowing behind the grate. I flick on a lamp. Warm light spills across the rugs, the dark wood, the shelves.
Fontana takes it in with one sweep of his eyes. He doesn’t sit.
Neither do I.
“I’m going to ask you once, Orsini.” Fontana’s voice drops. “Is he safe here?”
He’s safe from the people killing Clemenzas. Safe from the Bratva. Safe from the Morellis deciding he’s too inconvenient to keep alive. Safe from every predator in the city…
Except me.
“He’s alive,” I say.
