“I can’t remember,” he attempts to roar, but chokes and splutters.
“Hang him up. Let him think for a while,” I tell them. Getting to my feet, I collect my jacket. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You stay and keep an eye on things,” I tell Marcello.
Antonio is waiting for me when I get back to the house.
He’s wearing clean clothes, and there’s clarity in his eyes as he greets me in the foyer with a tilt of his chin.
“I had Miranda make you a plate,” he says. “She made your favorite pasta.”
Miranda has been serving in his house since before we were born. She’s old as shit, but the woman can cook and is part of the foundation of the house.
“What’s that smell?” He leans in wincing when he gets a whiff of me.
Piss.
“Should I be worried about you being civil?” I raise a brow and begin stripping off the clothes from tonight as I take the stairs to my room.
“I’ve been off the rails,” Antonio calls up to me, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m just angry all the fucking time, but I’m trying to work on it.”
I watch him over the handrail, nodding my head. “I’m glad to hear it.”
I’ve heard the words before, and they don’t usually last.
I enter my room, the fire already burning how I like it. Dumping the suit on the flames, I head to the shower, washing the night off my skin.
Antonio is waiting for me when I make it downstairs.
“You smell better.” He notes, looking over my lounge pants and white tee, following me to the kitchen where I pull the pasta Miranda made out of the fridge.
“I can have her warm it up.” He gestures to the door leading to the housekeepers’ living quarters.
If he was hungry, he would wake Miranda at any hour to cook for him. He’s spoiled, it would take him a couple of minutes in the microwave.
“I like it cold. Come sit.” I tell him, pulling out a stool and sitting at the breakfast bench. “I don’t think I’ve sat here since we were kids.” I chuckle, stabbing the fork into the pasta and placing a hearty serving into my mouth.
“Marcello said you had the meeting with the Brothers Grimm.” He smirks, folding his arms to hide the shake in his hand. The withdrawals are kicking in.
“Yes, it was enlightening,” I grumble.
“They’re thugs, Luca. They started out selling street drugs and moved up the ranks, gaining position through manipulation and blackmail.” His jaw clenches.
“They must have someone influential or rich backing them.” I swipe up another forkful. No way those lame fucks got their hands on more clubs through being business savvy.
“They’re corrupt and degenerates.” His nostrils flare. “I hear they had leverage against someone with money, but not power, so they cashed in. They’re scum who blackmail using sex tapes of people’s daughters. They need to be taken down a peg or two.”
He did that. Setting their clubs on fire put him right down on their level, playing their games.
“We’re above that kind of petty bullshit, Antonio. They’re so far beneath us, it’s not worth me even entertaining their company.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
I swallow the last bite and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “I’m going to do nothing. They can pay for their own damage.” Uncapping a bottle of water, I take a mouthful.
“They have me at the club while the fires were being set,” he growls, his corded neck straining.
“Then, if they’re the men you say they are, they have leverage and will come to blackmail us,” I say calmly.
“And then what?” He throws his hands up.
My father’s frail frame emerges from the shadows, walking with the aid of a stick like Death creeping in with his scythe. “And then you do what you always do with an infestation: you exterminate,” he rattles, placing a hand on Antonio’s shoulder. “It’s the only way with men like that. Trust me,” he adds. “Now, go wake Miranda. I’m hungry.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alyssa
Nathanail and I hit the lifts to perfection, all our practicing paying off. Michael claps for the first time since we’ve been here, and pride blooms in my chest.
“This is the level I expect from all of you,” he beams. “We have the benefit Sunday, and then next week, we begin training for our first performance of the summer. If you think I’ve been hard on you so far, it’s nothing compared to what I’ll expect from you in the coming weeks.” He points around the room, his hand movements animated. “Now, rest, rest, rest.”
The showers are always swamped after classes let out, so I forgo and head for the kitchen, needing sustenance.
Julia calls me into her office when she sees me in the dining area.
My stomach twists from her concerned expression. “What is it?” I ask, my skin itching. I want to scratch myself until I draw blood.