I walk on ahead through the double doors that lead onto the terrace. I was out here earlier, working out, and I left my T-shirt slung over the patio chair. I grab it, shrug into it, and sink down into the awaiting seat. Tristan sits opposite me and pulls out a document from the inside pocket of his leather jacket.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Shit that suggests we’re right. It suggests Pierbo didn’t really kill himself.” He hands me the document. I scan over it.
It’s an itinerary for a package holiday booked for a weekend. Next weekend. At the top of the page, in the column with the contact details, is Pierbo’s name along with a woman’s. Sheila Carmichael.
“Sheila… who’s she?”
“The woman who is carrying his child. He was going to take her away for the weekend. According to the preliminary autopsy records from the coroner’s office, he spoke to her a few hours before he died. Sheila said he called to tell her to pack sunscreen.” He frowns and straightens up. “That doesn’t sound like someone who would kill th
emselves a few hours later, does it?”
“Like fuck,” I answer.
The thing about this is, I don’t know where to go from here. We spent the whole day yesterday trying to find answers. While Dominic and Andreas did their own checking around, Tristan and I took to the streets. I hated going to the morgue and seeing a guy I could trust dead on the slab. Lifeless. I hate it more that there was a ninety-percent chance that his death was caused by Riccardo.
No proof though. All damn day, we moved from one area to the next, talking to one asshole after another, getting blood on my hands when I had to kill a prick who tried to stab me.
“What now? We’ve come to a dead end,” Tristan states.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. We gotta go with what’s on paper for the moment. Just until something says otherwise. Clearly, Riccardo got to him out of spite, but fuck, Tristan. It’s Pierbo. How does anybody get to a guy like that?”
“I don’t know. And it doesn’t sit well with me. Nothing adds up to anything more than what they’re calling it.”
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “We need to focus and stick to the plan. There’s too much going on to lose focus.” Especially for me.
I have big things happening over the next few weeks. The first is the Syndicate meeting where I’ll be initiated. After that will be an official family dinner where Pa will give me the ring and declare me to the family as boss. We have family flying over from Italy for that and other members of the D’Agostino clan attending. It’s a big deal. Then there’s the damn fundraiser I’d rather skip but have to attend because it makes the company look good. Riccardo will be there too. I’ll be taking Emelia to that, which will be the next time she sees him. That’s three weeks away. The week after is the wedding.
Anything could happen in the space of that time, so I need to keep my eyes open and my ear to the ground. I don’t doubt that Riccardo will be plotting some way to get Emelia back. I know he will.
“We can’t lose focus. That would be a big mistake. Andreas and I will sort things out for the company and keep an eye on Riccardo. Dominic will do his stuff. Everybody knows what they’re supposed to be doing, so don’t worry. You just be boss. It’s not an overnight job, especially doing the Syndicate business.”
He’s right about that. If it were only about learning how to run business for D’Agostinos, it wouldn’t be too bad. Pa prepped all of us to do that. The Syndicate is different, and my initiation will just be the start. The Brotherhood is a whole other ball game of power. The next level of unimaginable wealth. Wealth I never dreamed of having. Definitely not when we had nothing. Those guys talk in billions, not even millions. That’s why Riccardo is screwed. He couldn’t even scrape together a million dollars to give us, let alone the twenty-five owed.
“Thanks, I appreciate it, brother.” I raise my fist and bump it with his.
“No worries. So… you look shaken by this girl. What’s going on, Massimo? Where is she?” He smiles.
“Locked in her room.” Naked. I won’t tell him that part.
“Gonna keep her locked up forever?” He quirks a brow.
“Tristan, I don’t know what to do with her, and I don’t need to be told this is crazy. It is.”
“Of course, it is, but I sense you like her…” He gives me a curious stare. “The marriage was your idea.”
“It made sense. How else would we screw with the whole aspect of the Balesteri inheritance?”
“Fucking fuck the inheritance. Don’t give me that bullshit. You liked her at the ball.” He nods. I incline my head to the side.
This is what happens when people know you too well. Tristan isn’t just my brother; he’s my best friend. Nothing gets past him.
“Didn’t everybody?” I say as a final attempt. The way I remember it, every man with eyes who wasn’t happily attached at that charity ball was looking at her. They all wanted her.
“Fuck, who cares about everybody? Massimo, no one would fault you for acting on what she is instead of who she is.” He nods.
I have to laugh. “It’s the same fucking thing. Who and what.”