What if someone is out to destroy Dante? He was obviously framed for the murder. The news reported he was arrested after something was found on him that could have been used to kill Luciano. Investigators would be stupid to release all the details. I can read between the lines.
I hope Besnik comes up with a clue as I hate feeling helpless. I need to be able to protect myself and my beautiful fiancée.
22
Valentina
Massimo returns home in time for dinner at eight. I greet him at the door, wanting news about Papa, but also because I’m bored.
Massimo does not sugarcoat it. “He was poisoned with Digitalis, a common drug for the heart. His body will be sent to your family soon.”
“He was killed. Who would want to do that?”
“That’s the question of the day, trust me. I’ve heard nothing from my men.” He hands his coat to Samira and walks away without a word.
I follow Massimo into the kitchen where he pours us both a glass of wine, handing one to me. Our fingers touch and his warm flesh brings back the memory of that night in the garden when he reached out to help me stand.
“Giovi and Mama have to plan a funeral. I want to go home for it.”
“Absolutely not,” he declares, his voice rising. “It’s not safe.” He softens his tone when he looks at me. “Let’s eat.”
Samira appears and announces dinner is ready.
He slides his hand to the small of my back and the warmth of his touch radiates through my sweater. I fight off the impulse to turn around and kiss him, to feel alive, to feel wanted. The scent of him makes me want him more. Thankfully, we reach the dining room before I slip on my own juices.
The table is set to perfection with fine china and cloth napkins. The candles have been lit and it feels like a romantic dinner in a mansion with a mysterious man I’m inexplicably drawn to. He’s dark and brooding, a man of few words and more secrets than a confessional at St. Peter’s.
“I don’t use this room much, preferring to eat in the kitchen because it’s convenient and I usually eat alone,” he explains while pulling my chair out for me.
“How did you end up at the museum in Rome?” I ask, fishing for details, anything that might give me a clue to Papa’s life and death. But mostly to avoid silence and distract me from my wanton impulses.
“It’s not relevant.” He cuts into his veal with the same energy I reserve for tiramisu.
“What is your last name?”
“Rizzo,” he swallows, “I know, I’m Albanian and also Italian.”
“Interesting. What business did you have with my father?”
“We’re not playing this game, Valentina. I’ll tell you things you need to know when I decide you need to know them. Don’t ruin dinner.”
“I’m not. I’m asking adult questions and I want your opinion on my brother. My family is dropping like flies, and you tell me it’s none of my business,” I huff.
I’m pissed at trading one cage for another, worried about my family left unprotected in Sicily and I’m fucking sexually frustrated. So much so I wish he’d just fuck me on the table; the tension between us is so unbearable I can’t keep from wiggling in my chair with anticipation.
He chews another bite, as if ignoring me on purpose. The thought that he might be hungry doesn’t cross my mind.
“I’ve lived through a war with the other mafia family on the island and it was terrible. Is someone going to challenge my brother to take over as don?”
He shrugs, lets out a sigh and then says, “I can see you’re going to be relentless, so I’ll tell you the truth. I’ll never lie to you,” ending with a gaze that shakes me to my core.
I’m vulnerable. It’s new to me, I’ve never felt it before. My hands are shaking. I keep them in my lap, so he doesn’t notice how nervous I am.
“No one ever knows even going into a war you think you’ve won. Your father ruled with an iron fist. The odds are good Giovi will be okay. We have to wait.” He sips more wine and asks, “How is Ridolfo?”
“Good. Why did you keep him here?”
“I thought he’d be a comforting face for you.” His voice is soft, and warm, almost like he cares for me. “Besides, he needed to be here for the interview, and you never know when his service might be needed. The interview at the police station? How did that go?”