Page 289 of Marcello

Niccolo frowned, almost like he was confused.

“What?” I asked.

“Be quiet,” he ordered. “We’re almost there.”

The SUV approached a couple of iron gates. An extremely tall, muscular motherfucker – Massimo Rosolini, most likely – opened up the gates for us, then closed them behind the car after we’d driven through.

The parking lot was filled with a dozen black Mercedes sedans. Since it wasn’t even close to dawn yet – and since the cars looked to be worth several hundred thousand euros apiece – I was guessing they didn’t belong to employees of Parco Virgiliano.

Adriano parked the SUV, got out, and pointed a gun at me as he opened my door. “Out.”

I did as I was told and walked in the direction Adriano pointed. He and Niccolo followed behind me, and Massimo brought up the rear.

We passed a dozen thugs in black suits, white shirts, and black ties. All of them carried assault rifles or pistols, and all of them stared at me like they would’ve loved nothing more than to shoot me in the head.

I ignored them.

This is the part where the hero shows he’s not afraid to die.

We walked down a tree-lined path until we came to a large circle of Cosa Nostra foot soldiers.

In the center stood several people.

A man in a three-piece suit who looked like Niccolo – which meant he was Roberto.

A movie-star-looking younger guy, who I was guessing was Valentino…

The Swedish Enforcer I’d seen at the hospital…

And Dario Rosolini.

He was a lot more imposing in real life than his mugshot suggested.

A lot taller…

A lot angrier…

And he had a gravitas to him that made Cesare feel like a punk teenager.

“This is him?” Dario asked in a deep voice.

“It is,” Niccolo answered.

“Look,” I started, “I just want to say – ”

Adriano poked his gun barrel into the back of my head. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut until we ask you a question.”

I clammed up.

“You work for Cesare and Lucrezia Caproni?” Dario asked.

“Yes.”

“How high up in their clan are you?”

My stomach twisted with fear. I wasn’t sure what the right answer was – what would keep me alive to see Giulietta again –

But Dario grew angry at my hesitation.