Page 37 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
Two sofas sit in the middle of the office, facing each other. Bookcases cover the walls, and at the back of the room is Nero’s desk. Nero leans against the front of the polished wood, and we all take seats.
“Gabriella Ricci has asked me for an alliance.” He looks at each of us, his face a mask of control. “We’d be stepping into something that shouldn’t concern us. But Enrique Bianchi brought a war to our gates.” His jaw tics, hinting at his anger.
Jackson leans forward, releasing a heavy sigh. “You’re Nero Verdi.”
A devious smile crosses Nero’s lips. “I am.”
Jackson shrugs, and the movement makes the already-strained material of his jacket pull tighter still. “So, let’s fuck ’em up.”
Una rolls her eyes. “Helpful, Jackson.”
“You let that go, and the sharks will all start queueing up for a bite.” Jackson clenches his fist, cracking his knuckles. “We have a reputation to uphold.”
“Or, you could put your dicks away, and think it through,” Una responds.
Jackson glares at her, and they share a small, silent standoff.
“This isn’t about Bianchi. He offered the Elite an opportunity to take us out under the premise of a legitimate job. That’s it. They took his job because they wanted us.”
“But he hired them in the first place,” Gio interjects. “Enrique Bianchi thinks he can stand against us.”
They start arguing, voices rising over each other.
I tune them out, sitting silently until I grow bored with their ramblings. “It wasn’t about us!” I finally shout. Silence falls over the room, and slowly, four sets of eyes focus on me. “It was never about us; he just wanted her.”
“Adelina is one woman. He could marry any Sicilian girl with a semi-decent bloodline. It doesn’t make sense for him to go to such extremes for her—”
“And yet, he did.” I cut him off. “It’s not about logic; it’s about honor. It’s about her father breaking his word. Bianchi thinks he’s entitled to her, and she made him look weak.” I glance at Nero, his brows pulled tightly together. I want Bianchi dead, but I force my emotions down. I slip into the calculated, cold thoughts of a soldier. There’s something comforting in it, like coming home. It feels safe. From here, Nero’s path is evident in my mind. “He has what he came for. If you leave him alone, you’ll undoubtedly never have a problem with him again.”
“That’s not the point!” Jackson growls. “The fucking gnads on the guy…” He shakes his head.
“Una is right. The Elite are the immediate problem,” I say, pushing all personal feelings aside.
Adelina’s face flickers through my mind, attempting to break through the icy wall I’ve erected between her and me. She slams against it, and I can feel the cracks winding through it. I grit my teeth, remembering her rejection. She doesn’t want help. She’s not my problem.
“We can’t get to the Elite,” Gio says, thrumming his fingers over the arm of the leather sofa. “Aside from picking off occasional groups of them like we’ve been doing.”
Una sighs and drags a hand through her pale hair. “Which will only make them close ranks in the long run.”
“So where does that leave us?” Nero asks.
“With one enemy we can get to and one we can’t,” Gio responds.
“But if we go for Bianchi, he may well call in the Elite again…” Una muses.
I nod in agreement. “Not to mention, the Italians won’t like you getting involved, Nero. I know you don’t care, but…” But he’d rather have an easy life. Fighting isn’t good for any organization.
“If we align with the Ricci’s, then we can hide behind them,” Nero says, that cutting edge in his tone makes my spine stiffen. He’s nothing if not prepared. Always thinking ahead and ready to use anyone.
“Agreed,” Jackson says.
Nero sighs, tilting his head back. He wants blood, but I know he doesn’t want a war. No one does, but especially not a man with a lot to lose. I can almost see the two sides of him colliding. The young, dangerous capo he once was, turned fearless mafia boss is clashing with the man who’s now a father. “Gio, please bring Ms. Ricci in,” he says.
Gio pushes to his feet, and we wait silently for his return. Gabriella enters the room ahead of Gio. Her two men are absent, which is a sign of trust if ever I saw one.
Gabriella wears a dress that wouldn’t look out of place in an office. It strikes me how different she is from her sister—well put together and presentable—though the two share the same features. Jackson slides over, and she takes a seat next to him while Gio perches on the arm.
Nero clears his throat, and Gabriella focuses on him as if there’s no one else in the room. “We have decided to align with you.”
