Uncle Gio, as she’d called him her entire life, didn’t place hits on a whim, like some men in his position were known to do. Taking a life was a last resort, an option only employed when negotiations had completely failed.
Or when it was discovered that an individual had certain tastes or tendencies that couldn’t be ignored. Such as Grayson’s preference for underage boys.Veryunderage. Grayson’s mistake had been thinking that just because Giorgio Vitali engaged in questionable business dealings, he didn’t have any morals. Uncle Gio had disabused him of that notion the first time Grayson had approached him, but he’d felt a stronger message needed to be sent. And that was where she had come in.
Humming happily to herself, Amara climbed into the snappy little sports car she’d hidden around the corner from the venue earlier in the evening. A limo had dropped her off at the event, but she wouldn’t risk Uncle Gio’s men being implicated if she could help it, so she always drove herself home after a job.
Driving also gave her an outlet for all the pent-up energy the adrenaline rush inevitably gave her. In deference to the chilly October air, she left the top up, but she didn’t hold back when she hit the mostly empty interstate. Radar traps didn’t scare her—there wasn’t a cop in a hundred-mile radius stupid enough to give a ranking member of the Vitali family a ticket.
So she let herself fly, weaving between the few cars scattered along the highway with the ease of a seasoned racecar driver. Under different circumstances, she might have pursued racing as a career, but Uncle Gio never would have allowed it. She could hear him now, in her mind, telling her it was far too dangerous and unbecoming of a woman of her station.
Murder, however, was just part of the family business. The irony of it didn’t escape her, but her life was full of paradoxes.
Once she’d driven off most of the excess energy, she turned the car back toward home. Mikey was manning the booth at the front gate, and he waved her through with a polite, if slightly bored smile. More than once, Amara had suggested upgrading their security to include facial recognition and automated entry, but Uncle Gio preferred having a man guarding the entrance. It was no secret the elder Vitali didn’t trust technology, so she’d never bothered to press the issue. With a nod for Mikey, she drove through the gates and up the winding hill to the ‘House Prohibition Built,’ as she often thought of it.
Leaving her car in the drive instead of putting it away in the garage as she’d been lectured on a hundred times, she climbed the short staircase to the front door. It swung open moments before she reached it, courtesy of Cesare, their efficient majordomo who ensured the Vitali household ran smoothly.
“Welcome home,topolina,” he greeted her with a warm, affectionate smile.
Since the affection was mutual, she returned the smile and stood on her toes to brush a kiss over his weathered cheek. “Is Uncle Gio home?”
“In the library, waiting on you.”
“Perfect. Goodnight, Cesare.”
Still vibrating from the rush of adrenaline to her system, she took the stairs two at a time, another little habit that drove the men of the house crazy. She was careful never to push Uncle Gio to the point of anger, but she enjoyed her little bits of rebellion where she could find them.
As Cesare had promised, she found him sitting in his favorite leather chair, holding a worn copy ofI Promessi Sposi, with a cup of cappuccino sitting on the table beside him.
“Uncle Gio, you should know that story by heart.” Stopping by his chair, she bent and brushed a kiss across his cheek.
“I may know the destination, but I still enjoy the journey,topolina.”
Rolling her eyes for form, she settled into the chair across from him. “I’m not a child, Uncle Gio. Your little mouse is all grown up,” she teased.
“You will always be little to me.” Closing the book, he set it beside the cup of coffee at his elbow, giving her his full attention. “How was the event?”
This time her eye roll was heartfelt. “Boring, as usual.”
“And your date for the evening?”
“Sleeping soundly.”
“Good.” The corners of his lips tipped down, just slightly, and he tapped a finger on the arm of his chair.
Something was bothering him. The tapping was his tell, something that might go unnoticed by someone who didn’t know him as well as she did. But pushing him to talk to her had the potential to backfire if he wasn’t ready, so she waited him out.
“I have another job for you,topolina.”
It was her turn to frown. “So soon?”And why does this one bother you so?She left the latter part unsaid, knowing her prying wouldn’t be welcome.
“Unfortunately.”
She waited for more, a name at least, but the silence stretched on. “Uncle Gio?”
“Emilio Rinaldi.”
If he’d said the pope, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “What? Has he betrayed us?”
Gio’s handsome face twisted into a grimace. “No. It would be easier if he had. I owe someone a favor, and they’ve called in their marker.”