“They’re retaliating for something, but Mamma won’t give us any details. Still, she can’t hide the death of our cousin. We know something dangerous is going on. I think that’s why my engagement was so rushed. Papà needs allies.”
“One minute,” Damiano says.
“Gem, do you have any way to find out more?” I ask.
I can imagine her nibbling on her bottom lip as she considers my question. “Papà’s got a guard outside his office all the time now, so I haven’t been able to eavesdrop. But maybe I can try something to get the guard to leave his post tomorrow. It’s a long shot, but I might get something.”
“That’s good. Take the burner, hide it well, and call the number on it if you get anything. No one can know we talked, okay?”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“Time’s almost up,” Ras says.
Tears well up in my eyes again. “I love you. I miss you more than you can imagine.”
“I love you too. When I call you next, we’ll talk longer, okay?”
“Okay. Please, be careful.”
Damiano hangs up the call.
I place my palms on his desk and lean forward. My heart races like a pack of wild horses. I thought talking to my sister would make me feel better, but I was desperately wrong. It feels like my chest is about to split open.
Lazaro is still alive.
My husband-my tormentor-is somewhere right now, scheming how to find me. Fear wraps around me and squeezes all the air out of my lungs.
Damiano places his palm on my shoulder. “Vale, breathe.”
“He won’t stop until he gets me back,” I say.
Damiano kneels beside me and puts his hands on my thighs. His eyes glint with sharp conviction. “I promise you on my life he’ll never touch you again.”
I compel myself to believe him. Maybe with the entire Casalese arsenal at his disposal, I’ll be safe.
But first, he has to get that arsenal.
“We still don’t have enough information,” I say, dragging my hands down my face.
“No, you did well. We know your father is at war with another New York clan. It means he’s vulnerable. We can work with that.”
I suppose he’s right. “What could Papà possibly want badly enough to agree to execute a hit on Martina?”
Damiano’s expression grows tight. “In our business, it usually comes down to money or power.”
Even knowing what I now know, it’s hard for me to accept this truth. “How much money is enough to kill an innocent girl?”
Damiano purses his lips. “Probably less than you think.”
DAMIANO
I spend the rest of the day ensuring all of the new security measures Napoletano recommended are put in place. Since Ras is gone, Jax-one of his tech guys-has taken over getting all of the extra cameras and software set up, and he tells me he should be finished with everything within the next twenty-four hours.
“There’s a connection problem by the pool,” he says. “We need to get an extender for the signal, but it should be an easy fix.”
“Get it first thing you can.”
“You got it, boss.”
The night that follows is restless. Vale twists and turns in my arms, and I wish she’d talk to me, but I get the sense she wants to be alone with her thoughts.
I wonder what she’s thinking about right now-Lazaro being alive? Her sister’s engagement? Or maybe she’s coming to terms with who her father really is and the things he’s willing to do.
It seems like she was far more sheltered from his dealings than a typical Casalese woman. For nearly a decade, my mother managed the finances of the clan. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t much my father kept from her. He’d come home for dinner, we’d sit down at the table, and he’d talk about his day to all of us, even the children. Mari was too young to understand, but I ate up every word out of his mouth. I loved hearing about the feuds and the scuffles, all of which ended in him victorious.
I like to think I inherited my steady temperament from him. In his stories, my father was always calm and calculated, even when he was dealing with traitors. My father was a brutal don, feared by his enemies, but he wouldn’t have done what Sal and Garzolo tried to do to Martina.
I notice Vale’s breathing has grown deeper. She’s finally asleep. I pull her closer, inhale the scent of her hair, and soon, my own consciousness begins to slip.
A loud ping makes my eyes snap open. It takes me a moment to push past the veil of sleep. How long was I out for?
My palm curls around the phone, and I lift it up to my face. It’s a text message from Gemma. I open it and find two words.
Luxury counterfeits.
I frown at the letters.
Even though I loathe to do it, I nudge Vale awake and show her the message. Maybe she can help interpret what the fuck it’s supposed to mean.
She squints at the screen. “That’s all she sent?”
“Yes. Does your father deal in counterfeits?”
“Not as far as I know…” She moves her jaw in thought. “Wait, the Riccis do.”
The family Garzolo is at war with? How do counterfeits connect to the deal with Sal?
I sit up and run my hand through my hair. The Casalese clan controls a massive amount of counterfeit factories in the area around Naples. We supply the entirety of Europe with goods that are impossible to distinguish from the real thing, and that’s because the luxury houses use our factories for the production of their authentic merchandise as well. The only difference between what they sell in their glittering stores and what we sell on the black market is the price. It’s the dark underside of the fashion industry few people know about.
What’s Garzolo’s angle? Was he trying to undercut his rival’s business by flooding the New York market with his own merchandise? Was he trying to get his supply from Sal?
Shit, that could be it.
The phone begins to ring.
Valentina sits up and pulls the sheet up to her chest. “Who is it?”
I eye the caller ID and hand her the phone. “It’s Gemma.”