“Oh, no, Sal,” she objects, but I know shit is about to get real and we all need to take the edge off.
Francesca sits across from her half-sister and it’s uncanny the resemblance between the two. I’m grateful they have different hair color, or it might be more obvious that they are related.
“Congrats on your upcoming wedding,” Francesca says as she takes a sip of the sweet lemony drink.
“Thank you.” Juliet is polite, buy she’s reticent.
I would be too if I found a long-lost half sibling. They grew up much differently, but I hope that they can find common ground and get along once they know each other.
But who am I kidding? Francesca is on the run and not likely to be around after her six months, maybe not that long if we have a war brewing—one we didn’t instigate and one we want to prevent.
Riccardo is quiet, but I can tell he’s studying Francesca. He taught me to always know your enemy and never underestimate them. From our time spent with her in the cellar, he knows she’s a spitfire and can kick ass as she’s highly trained and proficient.
I realize she must have her mother’s personality as she doesn’t appear to be unbalanced and she hates human trafficking as much as we do.
Besides even Francesca let it slip her brothers are psychotic, and we know her father was too, so maybe that genetic marker passes only to the males in the family.
Dante is enjoying himself because Juliet is with him, but behind his dark eyes I can tell he’s thinking of the Contis and the Calabreses and why they would want to start a war with us.
It’s my day off, so we converse on light topics and get caught up with each other. After lunch, the women move to the kitchen to clean up while the men hang out under the shade trees to drink scotch and discuss business.
“I have a good haul this week, but a few gamblers are falling behind with the downturn in the economy,” Marchello says, pulling out cigars.
“Don’t let large tabs run up, we’ll never collect on them. You know how it goes. There are those who make their car payments every month and those who buy a car and never make one payment. It’s the same with gambling and shipments.”
“I know, but the shipments of drugs I move are all paid on delivery. No way am I on the hook for that.” He smiles and lights a cigar.
It’s hard to believe my little brother stepped up after Dad died. We all did. I’m glad we’re all able to work together so well. Dad would be proud of us.
Besides, we need to take care of Mama and keep the family name alive. I’m sure Dante will have the first heir since he’s getting married first. Ha. The most unlikely to wed brother is the first to walk down the aisle in the local Catholic Church where we were baptized. Who could have seen that coming?
My phone vibrates and it’s Carla. Eureka! The woman finally returns my call. I excuse myself from the table.
“Hi Carla, how are you?”
“I’m fine. I know it’s Sunday and you’re with your family, but do you want to join me for a drink later?”
“That would be great. How about our favorite spot by the Arno? We’ll watch the sun set if it’s not overcast.”
“Sure, sounds great. Seven, okay?”
“Perfect.”
I hang up and notice Francesca does not look pleased. There’s no way she heard me, so I suspect she reads lips. She needs to get over it. Tonight, she’ll be part of my security detail, and she better not let her personal feelings compromise her job to protect me.
I would make a play for Francesca, but I don’t believe she will ever get over her anger issues with men. As for letting any man past those concrete walls she built around herself? Doubtful at best. Her resolve borders on unnatural, and I don’t have time to be her psychologist.
She’s here to find her friend and sniff out the Albanians.
Dante puffs at his cigar and blows his smoke into a perfect ring that drifts away before finishing his scotch. He stands first and we follow to say goodbye to Mama before we join our security details and clear out.
Marchello will be readying the troops in case we need them, a large and expensive operation involving many men, some who might not come home.
But as Dante said, we can’t sit by and let the little pieces of shits that have Conti DNA and Calabrese blood tarnish our name. I can tell Dante is already working on how the scenario might go down.
Meanwhile, we’re on our way home for the afternoon siesta.
“Get your rest, I have a date tonight and I want you on it,” I inform Francesca.