15
“Goddammit,” Nico shouted as he slammed his fist down on the table. “He didn’t just vanish into thin air. He’s out there. We need to know where.”
“Sir, we’ve been looking for him everywhere—”
“You obviously haven’t looked everywhere if you still can’t find him, for fuck’s sake.”
Nico stood at the head of the conference room at his father’s house. Raymond, who was his right hand, stood at the foot of the table, his hands folded in front of him, a completely neutral expression on his face. Nico didn’t like yelling at his men. He normally didn't. Nico prided himself on being even-handed and rational. He thought treating them badly bred discontent and disloyalty. But the fear that River was in danger had thrown him into a near panic and he was desperate to find Emiliano before he could do something to her.
He blew out a long, frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. Looking down at the polished wood table, he closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. When he opened his eyes again, he didn’t feel any calmer, but he felt more in control of himself. He raised his gaze to Raymond.
“Have the men search again. Go to all his usual spots. Have somebody go to his house and his father’s house and watch it from afar. They’re not to engage. I only want to know if there’s any unusual activity,” Nico said, his voice tight with anger. “Tell the men to keep searching. He’s out there, Raymond, and he’s going to hit us. We have to stop it if we can before he has the chance to do any damage.”
“Yes, sir. We’re on it.”
Raymond nodded then turned and hustled out of the conference room, closing the door behind him. Nico looked over at his father who sat to his right, an amused smirk on his face.
“Something funny?” Nico grunted.
“Funny? No,” his father replied. “But this is the first time in your life that you’ve ever sounded like the Boss. This is the only time I can recall where I thought to myself that when I die, our family will be in good hands.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said dryly.
“I do approve. I like this version of you, son,” he said. “And to think, all it took was to put one of your pieces of ass in jeopardy. If I’d known that was all it took, I would have pulled something like this long ago.”
Nico rounded on his father, his face twisted with rage. “She’s not a piece of ass, Dad,” he sneered. “River is a good woman. She doesn’t deserve to be caught up in all this shit.”
His father chuckled but the smile slowly faded from his lips as he studied Nico closely. He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable beneath his father’s scrutiny. Nico turned away and started to pace the other side of the table, making sure to keep it between them.
“And why are you staring at me like that?” he finally asked.
“Because I can see that this woman has gotten under your skin,” he replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you react to a woman like you are to this one… River, was it?”
Nico shook his head, not wanting to get into a discussion of his feelings about her with his father. They didn’t have that sort of relationship. Nico used to be able to talk to his mother about what was weighing his heart and mind down, but he'd never been able to talk to his father about things like that. His father liked to pretend emotions didn't exist. Or on those rare occasions when he did acknowledge them, he acted as if they were off-putting and nothing more than a bothersome hindrance he wanted to be rid of. Nico knew he couldn't admit to his feelings about River. Not to his father.
“She’s a tourist. An American. If anything happens to her, it’s going to draw a lot of attention to us,” Nico said. “I don’t think we want the state police looking that closely at us. Not with the inventory of weapons we’ve got in the warehouse.”
“No, I suppose we don’t,” his father said with a chuckle. “But you can’t fool me, son. I know you like to think you can. But you can’t. I always know what you’re thinking and how you’re feeling because you wear your heart on your sleeve. And right now, I can see that the mere thought of something happening to this American girl is twisting you up inside.”
“What is your point, old man?”
“My point is that it’s good to finally see you passionate about something,” he said “You always hold that part of yourself away from me. You never let me see those passions and that fire inside of you.”
Nico waved him off. “Whatever.”
“We’re not that different, you know,” his father said.
“We can’t possibly be any different.”
A corner of his father’s mouth curled upward. “I was like you when I was younger. Headstrong. Filled with piss and fire,” he said. “And I did some impulsive things too. Especially when it came to your mother. I went to war for her, you know.”
It was news to Nico. He’d known of only one time in his father’s time on the throne that he’d gone to war with another family. By all accounts, it was a vicious and bloody affair. It had been before Nico was born obviously, but he’d never really asked after it. He’d always just assumed it was business related. His father looked at him though and the wistful, nostalgic gleam in his eyes told Nico that he’d assumed wrong.
“What happened?” Nico asked.
His father frowned and for one of the few times he could remember, Nico saw actual emotion flicker across the older man’s face. Aldo cleared his throat and quickly composed himself then looked up at him.
“When I was in my early twenties, there was a boy named Enzo Galante. His family was wealthy and powerful. But they weren’t quite powerful enough to challenge my father,” he said. “I met your mother and we dated. We fell in love. Enzo’s father found out about us and worked behind the scenes, negotiating with your mother’s father to marry her.”