I greet each Montavio in turn. Last night we greeted them en masse but didn’t take the time for personal discussions. Today we’ll have a better time of it.
First, though, I have to check in with Tavi. I walk beside him, and he gestures to an empty seat next to his wife.
“Sit, Santo,” he says. The ruthless brother-in-command looks tired. Weary, as if he hasn’t had a wink of sleep in days.
I sit. I take a cup of coffee and decline cream or sugar.
“Takes it black,” Tavi says, not looking at staff, but I look sharply at who it is. Everyone on staff knows how I take my coffee.
“New hire,” Tavi says, reading my mind. “You know Romeo hired more staff after Leo’s betrayal.”
I nod. I do.
Leo’s betrayal. The motherfucker double-crossed me. Betrayed us all.
So many things have changed in such a short time. I don’t know how I feel about that.
“How many?” I ask.
“Four.”
I nod, and sip my coffee.
“You hear from Romeo?”
Tavi nods. “One call. They have him in solitary.”
I nod, approving. It’s for his own damn safety. They’ll know the most powerful Boss in New England’s been taken into custody, so they’ll keep him apart from the others, until we can get him out.
“And Flynt?”
“Working on getting him out.”
I look around the room, talking to the Montavios, and I know today we get shit done. After breakfast, the inner sanctum and our Montavio guests will adjourn to the war room. Tavi will go over every detail of Romeo’s imprisonment and the accusations made against him. And I’ll tell them everything I know.
Everything.
But even though I’ve waited for this day, even though the danger to everything we know is imminent, knocking on our door like the Grim Reaper with his vicious scythe, all I can think about is Rosa.
Rosa.
The woman who to all others appears remote and aloof, the Italian ice princess.
But I know who she is. I know the intricate workings of her mind. I know what makes her heart beat faster. I know what she fears, what she hopes, and what she craves.
I excuse myself from the table and rise to fill my plate from the buffet table at the end of the room. I catch her eye and give her a barely perceptible chin lift. She smiles at Natalia, who’s now sitting in her own chair, and rises. Stretches. Picks up her plate and follows me.
I take my time buttering a muffin. Pick up a large, slotted spoon and put fruit salad on my plate, one piece at a time, while she sidles up beside me.
“You get something to eat?” I ask nonchalantly.
“Of course,” she says with a smile. I know her, though. She’s probably eaten an egg and half a grapefruit.
I lower my voice. “Best keep your stamina up.” She hides her face from the others and gives me a wicked, lopsided grin that makes me want to worship the damn ground she walks on. God, what that grin could do to a man. “Fortify yourself,” I say, my voice low and raspy. “For later.”
I watch as she slides a bagel on her plate, a hearty portion of fruit, and a few plump, sizzling sausages from a platter.
“Good girl.”
“Jesus, this looks good.”
I barely stop myself from jumping when Ricco’s only inches away on my left.
Fuck. I’m losing my touch. Didn’t even hear him get close. Did he hear me call Rosa my good girl?
Jesus. I’m not the kinda guy that slinks around. I hate this.
“Yeah, man, they pull out all the stops for the Montavios, eh?”
“Better than that slop they give you in the Big House,” Ricco says, but his eyes are sharp and he’s not laughing. Goddammit, I can’t fuck around and risk everything.
“Got that right.” Served time myself, and I wouldn’t go back for anything. “Jesus, we gotta get Romeo outta there.”
I hate the thought of my friend, my brother, my Don, alone and imprisoned. He needs to be here, in his rightful place of authority, even if that means I get sent back to Italy.
“We’ll get him out,” Ricco says with confidence. He blows out a breath. “That’s why we’re here.”
Tavi rises and clears his throat. “I want all made men and guests to convene in the war room in twenty,” he orders. I watch as he bends and kisses his wife’s cheek, brushes his suit off, then turns to go to the war room himself.
Ricco and I sit with the others, but out of the corner of my eye I watch Rosa. My Rosa. She holds my gaze when she slathers cream cheese on her bagel and takes a big bite. No one else in this room knows why, but I do.
Good girl.
When we’ve eaten our fill, the made men of The Family and the Montavios head to the war room. At the far end of The Castle, the war room’s tucked away in the very back, as private a place as you can get save the secret wine room in the cellar. Here, we’ve conducted business since before I can remember.