Page 74 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
I turn on the car. The more I let him entertain the idea of becoming a made man, the more invested he’s become in the fucking fantasy. Has he forgotten what it’s like on the streets of Secondigliano? Maybe his mother managed to somewhat insulate him from it growing up. She came from a wealthy family, and even after they’d kicked her out for getting pregnant out of wedlock, she had enough money to afford to live in one of the nicer buildings on the edge of the neighborhood. Polo has no fucking clue what clan business actually entails.
I should show him. Take him back there with me one time so that he can see what the life of a foot soldier looks like.
But I can’t now. Not when I already have my hands full with Martina.
As I pull out of the yard, I register the furious expression on Polo’s face in the rearview mirror, and it leaves a nagging feeling at the back of my head.
* * *
Everyone meets in Sal’s office a few doors down from the main church in Casal. At least four icons hang around the room, Jesus’s forlorn face gazing down at the twenty-something group of killers gathered in front of him.
The atmosphere is tense as we wait for Sal to appear. His consigliere, Calisto, stands by the desk and whispers something into Vito Pirozzi’s ear. Vito’s face is disfigured from a recent altercation with De Rossi involving a bowl of stew, and as he listens to Calisto, he itches the burn scar on his cheek. His younger brother, Nelo, isn’t here, but he can’t be far. The vultures are circling around the heart of Casal, waiting to see who’ll prevail. Our piece of shit don, or his unproven contender.
At last, the doors part, and Sal walks in dressed in one of his best suits. He’s impeccably groomed, a heavy watch shining on his wrist, his leather shoes so polished they gleam in the light.
Appearances matter more than most like to admit.
He’s trying to project his power so as to cement his infallibility. Most here are smart enough to see through it, but not all.
Calisto pulls out Sal’s chair, and everyone stands up a little bit straighter as they wait for the don to speak.
He surveys us with a slow and steady gaze, pausing on some faces longer than others. When he gets to me, he looks right into my eyes, as if they’re two peepholes inside my mind. I keep my features neutral until he moves on, but that penetrating look raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
I’ve learned to trust my instincts.
Something’s going on.
“Damiano De Rossi’s futile rebellion has entered its second week,” he begins. “I want to make it clear that agreeing to a meeting with him counts as betrayal in my books, and we all know how we punish traitors.”
A few men nod around the room.
“While his attempt to gain more power is as likely as our Vito here winning a beauty contest—” some chuckles break out while Vito frowns “—he’s managed to disrupt our business and anger our Algerian partners by denying them distribution in Ibiza.” Sal twists his watch. “Not to mention, word of his rebellion has reached some of our enemies, namely the Mallardo clan. Since they don’t have insight into the internal politics of the Casalesi, they think they’ll gain something by backing him.”
Of course they will. The only reason the Mallardos are our enemies is because Sal recently overstepped the decade-old borders between our territories to start building a factory on their side. He did it to show everyone how big his dick is. He got too arrogant to appreciate the Mallardos as valuable allies.
“This charade needs to end,” he concludes.
“What’s the plan, Don?” a capo standing beside me asks.
“De Rossi’s plan relies on his ability to deceive others. Sources tell me his pitch is that he’s capable of forging strong alliances and running this business better than I have for the past decade.” Sal scoffs. “It just shows he has no idea what it takes to lead the Casalesi. Our collective business enterprise might rival that of Fortune 500 conglomerates, but at our core, we are just men who will dowhateverit takes to maintain the clan’s dominance. De Rossi is not one of us. Do any of you know why he never dared to challenge me before this?”
Vito crosses his arms over his chest. “His sister.”
“She is his weakness,” Sal says. “Now, he’s also got a wife, but she’s a less appealing target due to her connection to the Garzolo clan in New York. We don’t need any Americans sniffing around our turf. As soon as we have Martina De Rossi, this war will be over.”
“You really think he’ll just give it all up for her?” someone asks.
“I know it. He hid that little bitch—”
My posture firms. What the fuck did he just call her?
“But it won’t be long before I find her.” He turns to me. “Giorgio is one of the many men I have working on tracking Martina. You all know how talented he is, so I have no doubt the search will be over very soon.”
An image of me flexing my fists, flying across the room, and pummeling his face until all that’s left is bloody pulp plays inside my head. But no hint of the fantasy makes it to the outside of my skull. I give him a relaxed smile. “I look forward to bringing her to you.”
He nods and turns his attention to Calisto, whispering something into his ear.
After another fifteen minutes, the meeting wraps up. As I exit the building, I’m on high alert, so when I pull out of the parking lot, I notice the car following me immediately.
