“No telling, but Argon is fucking up. He’s supposed to stay behind the scenes but he’s throwing big parties with blow in the Michelis’ bars. They have all the government officials who handle the liquor licenses in the palm of their hands so we can’t compete with them.”
“Not yet. It takes time.”
“Sure,” I agree and continue to sip my drink as I survey the room.
“Relax, few know who you are and we’re in Rome, nowhere near our territory.”
“That’s what puts me on edge.” I lean back against the booth, suddenly tired. The adrenaline rush has left me exhausted yet invigorated at the same time. The night spent tap dancing with the devil has left me feeling the effects now that I’ve decompressed. Even though I’m only twenty-six, I feel like forty-six on nights like tonight.
“How did Luciano take being called out?”
“He deflected, denied it, but admitted something is going on. I think he might have a greedy bastard in his ranks. It may even be the reason Valentina was targeted tonight.”
“They might have gone after whichever kid was easiest to get to,” he suggests, moving his empty rock glass back and forth between his palms.
“True. We don’t know their true intent with Valentina.” And we never will with both men dead.
My intent is to get that little minx under me. The thought of her warms me more than the liquor.
We have another round and call it a night. It’s late by the time I return to my room. Just then I get a text: Argon is dead, either heart failure or murdered while on a ski vacation in the Alps.
Fuck! Not that I mind him coming to Italy, but Grandfather will probably come in to oversee this. Me being in the Micheli camp when Argon took his last breath poses a significant problem if they discover I’m an imposter and we’re not on the same team. Before I left Florence, the government was watching a huge shipment, and one of my lieutenants gave them an empty Micheli warehouse they already suspected of belonging to someone in the family because of me.
It’s sleight of hand stuff: get the polizia and finanza officials where I want them in order to help my Albanian interests. The Michelis get a pass, just a minor inconvenience to them.
Is it more than a coincidence the government raid came shortly after Argon’s death? Did the Michelis put a hit on him?
Was Argon even murdered?
“Savio.” I call him on my phone as I take off my shoes. “Fucking Argon dropped dead on a ski trip.”
“No shit. I guess someone took care of something we all wanted,” he says out loud what I was already thinking. “I mean, the Michelis have been through so much with that crazy don, Conti, down here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t nip the encroachment in the bud.”
“Time will tell. But either way, natural or not, Grandfather will probably show up since he was our banker. We’ll need a replacement for Argon as well.”
“Don’t worry about it tonight,” he says before we ring off to get some sleep. There’s nothing I can do about the situation from here. The body will come back, things will happen, changes will have to be made because Argon laundered our money and hid things. I’ll take it a day at a time. I can’t leave the Michelis now, that would make me look guilty.
A conundrum for me to be sure. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I’m on the inside of the family that we’d suspect if it was a hit, so maybe it’s not so bad after all. Problem is, I don’t have access to what I need to know from the evidence files on Argon’s death investigation.
I do know one thing: we don’t want a turf war over this.
I’m glad my contract with Valentina was put to bed earlier tonight. I do so love encrypted documents and e-signature. I just hope this mess with Argon is cleaned up before Valentina arrives.
Savio will fly back with me in the morning. I’ll need to check in with both mafias. I owe Mama a visit too.
12
Valentina
The day started with a German continental breakfast in the dining room, meaning there were meats and cheeses, not just pastries. I do like having choices of cold cuts, and the coffee is rich and strong.
However, no matter what Mama did or said, Papa snapped at her. It appears she can’t do anything right today, and I find myself sympathizing with her as she tries to placate Papa’s foul mood.
Laura and I dodged them and kept quiet. I’m afraid to move out of sight due to Papa’s mood. The guards look on edge as they sit around us in their street clothes.
By the time we arrive at the jet, it’s noonish. I buckle my seatbelt and put my earbuds to watch a movie on my phone as Laura reads through the Kindle app on her phone. Papa is talking on his phone and the guards are vigilant, going so far as to look out the tiny window to make sure the tarmac was clear before take off.
What are they expecting? A mafia invasion?