Lib Novel Page 74
The smell of old furniture and the stink of cigarettes infused into the upholstery and drapes is absolutely nauseating. It’s been a little over a month since we got married and I moved into his house. With all the outstanding work that’s been thrown at me, I didn’t have the time to remodel this room, but that’s something I’ll need to rectify soon.
A hard knock sounds on the library door.
“Come in,” I mumble as my eyes keep gliding over the credit statements our bank has sent.
Salvo steps inside and takes a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “We have a problem.”
“More investors have called to say they’re not happy with how the Family finances are being handled?” I sigh. “I don’t think I can deal with them today.”
“We found a mole, Nera.”
My head snaps up. “Someone has been talking to the authorities?”
“Worse. It looks like one of our security guys is on Salvatore Ajello’s payroll.”
I lower the documents. The issues with our credit lines suddenly seem like a minor inconvenience. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. One of my men has been working him since this morning. He started singing an hour ago.”
“Okay. I’ll visit Massimo and see how he wants us to handle it.”
“There’s only one way to handle this situation, and Massimo will tell you the same thing. We can’t wait till tomorrow anyway. Someone told Brio we caught a traitor, and he just arrived at the facility where we’re holding the guy. I assume some of the capos, if not all, are on their way there already, too. They’ll want to personally see this issue be resolved.”
My breath hitches. The punishment to those who betray the Family is death.
“I’ll go wake Batista,” I say. “And tell him he needs to go take care of it.”
Salvo holds my gaze and, even though he’s trying not to show it, I can see the concern in his eyes. As well as the pity. “It has to be you, Nera.”
I rear back so suddenly that my office chair rolls a full foot across the floor. “Batista is the don. Since he loves parading around so much and having people kiss his hand, not to mention his ass because of his boasting about how he fixed the clusterfuck my dad created with Camorra, he should be the one offing people.”
“The rest of the Family may not know that you’re the one actually holding the reins, but the capos do. You were successful in paying off part of Camorra’s investment in our casinos, but that fact will only keep them at bay for a short while. The capos need to be convinced that you are capable of doing what is needed for the sake of the Family.”
“I’m not killing anybody, Salvo.”
He places his elbows on the desk, leaning forward.
“There have been hushed comments among the capos. Brio has brought up the possibility of opening a discussion regarding the change in leadership at the next meeting. If they deem Batista unsuitable for the role and decide to vote him out, you’ll end up as collateral damage.” His eyes trace over my chest and stop on my stomach. “Everyone believes he’s the father of your baby.”
My hands immediately fly to cover the already rather telling bump, as if merely cradling it can protect my child from the things Salvo is insinuating. I thought Batista claiming parentage would protect my child, but that can only work if he’s the don. If Batista gets thrown off his throne, Massimo won’t be able to take over. I will never get my freedom, and, no matter the gender, my child will face the fate I’m trying to prevent. If it’s a boy, sooner or later, someone may try to kill him. If it’s a girl, she’ll end up being married off to who knows who. And I wouldn’t be able to do anything to prevent either one.
Horror roils in my stomach, its toxicity overtaking my whole body. How can I bring myself to end a man’s life? Kill someone who didn’t do anything to me specifically? I grab the armrest and squeeze it so tightly that my knuckles go white. That man might not have done anything to me directly, but he is a threat to my baby. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my purse and head across the room. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To wherever you are keeping Ajello’s spy,” I whisper.
I will doanythingto ensure that my child is safe. If it means selling my soul to the devil by killing a man, so be it.
Chapter 27
Three years later
High-security prison outside of Boston
Even after three years of weekly visits, the rattle of chains inside this silent room as Massimo takes a seat across from me at the metal table still wraps around my spine like cold dread. As always, the guard secures the shackles to the metal loop and leaves. A few moments later, the camera in the corner of the room turns off.
“I told you, Nera,” my stepbrother says through his teeth, “one visit per week only, or someone may suspect there is more to this than just a warm family reunion.”