Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“Little things. His guys slinging drugs on the edges of my territory, for example. A little bodega owner I had on the take flipped sides and began paying Vlas for protection instead. Rumors about night-time shipments of cargo, although nobody ever specified what that cargo was. Little things, but it all should’ve added up.”
“You’re a busy man,” I said. “You’re a Capo.”
He nodded. “All the more reason.”
“How did you become a Capo?” I asked, leaning toward him. I hugged my knees tighter than let them go. “You’re… young, right?”
He smiled and shrugged. “I made soldier at twenty. Worked for a man named Sergio, did whatever he needed and then some. I was loyal and I was smart. I found some new ways to make money, you know, some digital things. Things were good for a few years, but then…” He stopped and stared off into space for a second.
“Then?” I prodded, my heart beating fast.
“Sergio’s family was killed,” he said. “Not by the Russians. Some small-time Chinese crew that was pushing in through our territory. They aimed for him but missed and got his wife and daughter instead. Nice people, very nice people, didn’t deserve what they got. Sergio lost it, we went to war against the Chinese, a lot of people died. But in the end, I won a lot of good will with the boss for my role in that war, and when it was over and we were victorious, Sergio was allowed to retire. I was given his position and his territory.”
I stared at him for a long time. It was hard to picture him as this deadly, ruthless gangster, even though he murdered my father, even though I knew it was true. He was so handsome, and seemed so kind. And he wore an apron when he cooked pasta. I couldn’t see him winning a war, let alone fighting one.
“And now here you are, on the verge of another war,” I said.
He shrugged. “This is what happens in this business.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, little Aida,” he said, looking at me.
“I’m—” I caught myself. “Right. I will.”
“Good.” He stood up and offered me his hand. “Come on. Come back to the house.”
I hesitated then took his hand. He helped me up, opened the passenger side door for me, then shut it once I was in. He went around, got in behind the wheel, and turned the SUV around. I watched him as he drove us a few minutes back to the house, and I wondered what kind of man could win a war with murderous gangsters and walk away with more power than before.
A man like Dante, as terrifying as that was.
He parked out front of his house. Gino sat on the front porch and perked up as soon as I stepped foot on the sidewalk. He came to the stairs and looked down at me, relief all over his face.
“Hi, Gino,” I said.
He waved and tilted his head. “You’re back.”
“I’m sorry I ran off. I just… I went for a walk. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
He nodded once and smiled. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
Dante appeared behind me, a hand on my lower back. “Come on,” he said, steering me up the steps.
Gino went inside and we followed. Dante took me into the kitchen, sat me down, and began to make coffee.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I can’t keep you locked up in here forever, not if I can’t come visit all that often. Which right now, unfortunately, I can’t.” I said nothing, just watched him as he filled the filter up, poured in the water, and hit the power button. The machine gurgled to life and began to fill up. He turned to me and crossed his arms over his chest. “How would you like to come with me into the city? Not every day, but maybe three times a week, at least until this all blows over.”
I bit my lip and tilted my head. “Would that be safe?”
“Safest you could be,” he said with a grin. “You’d be with me.”
I stood up from my stool when the coffee finished and came around the island. I took down two mugs, one for me and one for him. I moved close to him as I poured my coffee, but he didn’t step out of the way. I turned to go back to my seat, leaving his mug on the counter, but he caught me by the wrist.
He pulled me against him. I staggered, nearly spilled the coffee, but he caught it before it could run over. He gently took it from my hand and put it down next to his empty mug, as his other hand moved up along my back again, into my hair.
I stared into his eyes as a little smile broke across his face.