I exit the car and observe everything. Blooming roses on vines by the front door, their bloodred, velvety leaves reminiscent of the Rossi family symbol that each wear on their forearm. Rhododendrons stand, sturdy and well-maintained, in a border around the walkway that leads to the main entrance.
Something on the ground catches my attention before I get to the doorway. Frowning, I bend to investigate. A shiny golden moon, as delicate as spun glass, hangs on a thin golden chain. I pick it up and slide it into my pocket. Finders keepers.
I wonder if it’s hers. Looks like the kind of shit she’d be into.
My bodyguards flank me on either side, armed and ready, though any mob worth their salt will demand they check their weapons at the door. Still, I don’t like going into a confrontation without a well-armed guard. Romeo probably won’t give me shit, but his mother…
The door opens before I ring the bell. None other than Romeo Rossi himself answers the door. His poker face betrays nothing.
“Capo,” he says with a nod. “What’d you do to get outta the big house early, brother?” Ah, so we’re playing that angle. His handshake is firm, a warning and a promise. “Heard you got sentenced to life.”
I shrug and follow him into the house when he beckons for me to enter.
“My uncle knows people.”
He grunts in response as we enter the hall. “Good to know people on the inside.”
I don’t see his other men, but I feel them nearby, armed and ready. I’m not here to fight, but if someone wants to attack me first, they’re fair game. I’ve got three men with me. We’re outnumbered, but my other men are nearby. Whenever two mob leaders are together, no matter how friendly they are, it’s always a matter of two predators circling each other. There are no real friends in this war.
“We’ll go to the reception room. Can I get you a drink?”
“Espresso, please.” It’s been a long day, and I know if anyone’s gonna give me a good cup of espresso, it’s the Rossis. I came with my guards and have my inner circle a phone call away, so I trust Rossi not to pull any poison bullshit on me. It’s not his style anyway.
Our footsteps click on the gleaming floor. I wonder if he’ll still want to offer me espresso after I tell him why I’m here. I’m ready, no matter what.
I quickly take in every detail. Main reception’s circular, with a matching circular staircase to the right, and to the left, a lobby. It’s magnificent and regal, impeccably clean, and well-appointed.
Romeo nods to a small side table. “Check your weapons, brother.”
It’s a reasonable request, and I was prepared for it. I take out three guns and a knife and slide them onto the table. Romeo raises an eyebrow. I wink at him as I take the final gun out of the hidden harness at the small of my back. He doesn’t trust me, though, and nods to one of his guards to pat me down.
“Got enough of the frisking in jail, you guys feeling frisky?” No one cracks a smile.
I wonder if he’ll still give me the pat-down when I’m his brother-in-law.
Beyond the lobby and reception area there’s a coat room and another stairway, then the entrance to the Great Hall. Hung with flags and enrobed in stately stones, it’s one of my favorite parts about the house. I’ve only been here once, and it was a while ago, but I remember every detail.
“You guys still have the wine wall?”
Romeo nods. Reserved. He knows, then. I wonder what he’ll try to bargain with. “We do. You’re welcome to take some home.”
To toast my wedding to your sister? Don’t mind if I do.
“Thank you.” I’ll be taking more than a bottle of wine home.
In my peripheral vision, I note two armed guards in the corners of the room we’re entering. Romeo himself is packing a weapon, and when I step through the doorway, four men in suits rise to meet me, all armed, all ready—Ottavio, Orlando, Santo, and Mario. It’s been years, but I don’t forget names.
I nod and smile at them. They don’t return my smile. “Gentlemen.”
“What brings you here, Capo?” Mario asks. The youngest of the Rossi brothers, he’s usually the most genial, known more for his skills with women and cars than with weapons or cunning, but I’ve heard recently he’s newly married so maybe his capers with the female breed have come to a halt. Maybe not.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” I tell him, as I take a seat on a vacant sofa across from them and the door opens. I stand back up when Tosca Rossi enters bearing a tray of espresso cups. She nearly topples on her heels when she sees me, but quickly schools her features.
“If it isn’t Salvatore Capo,” she says, her voice cold as ice, belying the smile she’s plastered on her face. I once knifed someone who’d betrayed me over brunch with the Rossis. She didn’t even flinch, but also didn’t hesitate to send me the bill for the carpet I’d stained with my betrayer’s blood. I paid it, naturally, though it gave me a chuckle. Tosca Rossi’s made of stern stuff. I’m curious how much her daughter’s like her.
I sit back down and take the espresso with a smile and a nod. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t respond but sits opposite me, ignoring Romeo’s frown of disapproval.