With this new accusation, my face and my mood darken. Pissed, I lean back and cross my arms.
“I have no clue what you are talking about. We don’t traffic women.”
She doesn’t believe me, but I can tell the wheels spinning in her head.
I stand up abruptly. “I’ll leave you with Matteo. I have some calls to make. I’ll have your car found and brought here.” The way she carries on about this car, I want to have a closer look.
“Thank you.” For the first time since we met, she’s agreeable and the chip on her shoulder seems to melt just a tad.
It’s just a glimmer of her softer side and I find it encouraging. I have no illusions that it will remain, but I know the crack in her defense can be chipped away given time and a hard as fuck pickaxe.
Her softer demeanor makes me nervous. Fuck, did I just step into one of her traps? Her body is here to tempt me, like a Russian spy in the Cold War. A red sparrow in my house.
I walk outside, calling Dante. I should have done it earlier, but that gorgeous woman in there is distracting my mind and my cock. So much so, I find myself thinking about her constantly.
What can I say? Knowing she can kill me with her bare hands might excite me? Or is it her icy, light green eyes that can cut like a knife one minute and suck me in like the relaxing tide of the ocean the next?
What the fuck am I doing? I’m the one who likes my solitude and no attachments. I get more than enough human interaction at work and Sunday dinners where Mama pries into our personal lives and picks out our wives for us like we’re still children.
We know she has the best of intentions, but these Italian Mama’s are a breed onto themselves and with Dad gone it only gives her more time to obsess over us.
Dante answers interrupting my thoughts and for once I’m relieved.
“Hey, yeah, she’s here. No, there’s nowhere for her to go and trust me, no one is going to look for her here. Not right away it seems. I mean, we have some time. She’s convinced that we have a shipment of girls that have been trafficked and she’s looking for them. I think this vendetta against us to atone for her father is a rouse to get into our camp.”
“It looked like she was intent on killing you when I came into the room,” Dante reminds me.
“Mmm, well, I don’t think she’s crazy in the head, just crazy with skills. I want to keep her long enough to help me resolve this problem with the Albanians selling in our club.”
“A message needs to be sent,” Dante agrees. “Let’s let it sit for now, gain intel. We have time.”
“Yes, but I’m thinking, what if we can follow them and figure out what else they are into? I mean if we cut them off now, they’ll just send replacements. I think we should find the mother fucking nest with the rats still in it.”
“You make a valid point. Why don’t you pursue that angle and let me know if you need support? But we need to resolve this issue with Francesca. Sounds like the Calabrese family is a royal fuck up.”
“Sounds good. I think Francesca can make herself useful, especially if she thinks we might have the girls she’s looking for. Who knows? I’m sure the Albanians are into every illegal activity known to mankind.”
I can tell Dante’s amused. He likes the games, which is why he’s great as a don. It doesn’t stress him out like most. I can tell from the way he remains detached that he’s observing everything and making connections in his intellectual mind. He figures out what motivates people and I just unwittingly played to his strength and bought Francesca an extension of life.
I hang up without telling him my plan to keep Francesca with us for six months. That’s plenty of time to get to know her and plenty of time to work my charms.
I’m sure she felt our connection and it’s just a matter of time before she’s begging me to take her any way I want.
I can’t suppress my smile as I turn to walk back into the house. My only issue now is, how do I know she won’t try to kill me in my sleep?
11
Francesca
Inever imagined my superior martial arts skills would land me in Sal Micheli’s living room tied to a goddamn wooden chair. What a fucking inconvenience this is turning out to be. Quick in and quick out. Why can’t I follow my own rules?
The breathtaking view of the valley and vineyards outside his French doors is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I must say, it’s a refreshing change from the Conti compound of concrete walls and eyes everywhere. I can actually relax and take a breath without unwanted noise.
Sal left the room a minute ago with his cell phone to his ear. I hope it’s not going to be bad news when he returns. Every time the phone rings, I worry it’s someone calling to order my termination.
Now, it’s only me and Matteo in the room. He’s huge and intimidating with that don’t-fuck-with-me look in his eyes. I admit, I cannot survive a toe-to-toe fight with him but if I had the element of surprise, it would be a whole different story.
I think he knows that because he never lets his guard down. He’s always watching me, even when Sal is in the room.