Page 132 of Beautiful Ruins
Tone followed, but not without theatrics.“If I hear arguing, I’m coming back out with a kitchen knife.”
“I’ll try to keep the volume down,” I deadpanned.
They walked up the steps and disappeared inside.I waited until the front door shut behind them.Then I got out of the car and approached the three men in my driveway.
Atlas spoke first, as always.
“We won’t take long.”
“I wasn’t expecting you.”Because I really wasn’t expecting them.
Gianni gave me a lazy smile.“Is that any way to welcome your cousins?”
Marcello made a sound that might’ve been amusement.
I gestured toward the house.“Office.”
It was the first room to the left as you walked in.A deliberate choice when I built the place—because men rarely came to your home to talk about paint colors.They came to talk business.
We moved inside.The moment the office door shut, the air changed.
I moved behind my desk out of habit and nodded at the chairs.“Sit.”
None of them did.
Atlas remained standing, hands clasped loosely.Marcello crossed his arms.Gianni hovered near the window like he wanted a view of his escape route.
Atlas turned to Gianni.“Gianni requested this meeting.What did you want to talk about, cugino?”
Gianni exhaled, the faintest irritation in it—as if he’d rather be doing literally anything else.
“I’ve got wind of a hit,” he declared.
I didn’t blink.“A hit?On who?”
Gianni looked at me.“Archie Popovich.”
I looked at him, confused.“Archie?”
For a second, I saw it all in my head—Archie laughing in the face of danger the day he rescued Tone and Izzy.I felt the familiar coil of consequence tightening again.
“Well, it wasn’t me.I didn’t order it.Why would I?He saved Izzy and Tone.”
Marcello’s eyebrow lifted.“No one accused you of it.”
“It was implied the moment you walked in like pallbearers,” I shot back.
Gianni’s mouth twitched.
Marcello eased his stance, eyes narrowing on Gianni.“You can’t stand the man.You’ve got history with him going back years.Why are you telling us this?”
Gianni didn’t answer immediately.His gaze slid away, jaw flexing.
It was Atlas who spoke, voice calm and final.
“Because despite what anyone thinks of him,” Atlas began, “he’s been useful.And he’s come to our aid on more occasions than I can count.”
Marcello scoffed.“Useful is one word.”
