“Right.” I tear through my suitcase as there’s a knock on the door.
“Yes?” Massimo answers without opening the door.
“Just checking to see if you’re alright,” Savio answers.
“Yep, out in a few.”
I find my jeans and a t-shirt I put on before pulling a thick sweater over it. I grab thin socks and slip on the leather boots that go to my knees before zipping them.
Massimo is wearing the jeans I love that show off his ass and a designer long-sleeved shirt that repels wind and a pullover sweater.
“What?” He catches me eyeing him.
“Nothing.” I continue with my makeup.
“We need to go,” he pushes.
“Okay.” I quickly outline my lips and apply lipstick. No real Italian from Sicily is worth her salt without lipstick and heels.
My phone dings, Laura wanting to know how I am. I text I’m busy and I’ll check in later. She tries to keep me on, but I don’t respond again. I have bigger issues on my mind.
Our guards walk us to the same place we were last night and it’s a reunion as the men hug each other and we sit at tables filled with tons of breakfast foods and Juliet is radiant.
“When are you getting engaged, Sal?” Dante teases.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he quips.
“Marriage, who says I want marriage? Who has time? I have to run my business.”
“What’s your business?” I ask and everyone breaks out in a laugh.
“She’s actually the daughter of Conti, and she took over after he died. Her brothers didn’t have the head for it,” Sal explains, but I notice that the Micheli men and Riccardo exchange a private look when he says it.
“I have my syndicate in Rome, so it’s a lot of work for Sal and I. He runs bars and numbers up here. I have my base down there.”
“That would be tough.”
“We do have some information for you,” Massimo speaks in-between his sips of juice and loading up on carbs and bacon.
“What’s that?” Dante asks. “We’ve got to leave soon as we’re going on an undisclosed honeymoon after this.”
“I had Besnik email me pictures from his trip to the Alps and Valentina recognizes one of her dad’s underbosses is in it, a man by the name of Gambino. Does that mean anything?”
“We know his name and he might have a wife named Ignazio,” Francesca adds.
“No, that’s his daughter; she’s a weird one, our dog doesn’t even like her,” I add.
All eyes are on me again. “What? She’s not a nice person.”
“What does she do, who is she?” Francesca asks.
“She’s his daughter. She’s been gone for years. She only recently showed up and I have no clue where she is, she’s much older than me. There was some reason she left, like in Switzerland, and we have lots of our money there as their penalties for money laundering aren’t as stringent as Italy.”
“Daughter? What would Gambino’s daughter be doing in our business?” Dante asks.
“No clue. Her father was close to mine, in fact, he’d be in line to be the next don.”
“That’s motive,” Sal murmurs.