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Boone couldn’t stand the little shit. When the Bonaldis needed a distraction, Leandro was the one they used.
Closing his cell phone, he looked up and wasn’t surprised to see Lucia in the doorway of his office, about to knock. She appeared to be pale. He’d left her watching television, more importantly the news.
“Did you do that?” she asked.
“If you’re referring to a certain mayor and leaked footage, then yes. Why? Do you know him?”
“He has done business with my father,” Lucia said. “You ... you’re not joking, are you?”
“About?”
“Taking down my father, the Bonaldis.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say I have an issue with bullies,” Boone said. “The Bonaldi empire has been growing for a long time, several decades, and in the beginning, it was just like any up-and-coming mafia organization. It looked after its own. It commanded loyalty and in some respects, probably even deserved it. However, with all power and greed, something bad happened, and it became like an infection. It took advantage of those it was supposed to protect. It got dark, it got ... evil.”
“And you don’t like that?”
“No, I don’t.”
He watched as she frowned and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t get it. You’re like them, right? I mean, you have terrified my family and been a thorn in the Bonaldis’ side, and that is why they wanted a peaceful union.”
Boone smiled and rounded his desk, perching on the end.
“Your family and Bonaldi know what I want them to know. They believe I am just like them—a crime lord. I have men that follow me, and I have multiple businesses.”
“Then why would you try to destroy them?”
“None of my businesses are illegal, Lucia. I am a fully legit businessman. I don’t do drugs. I don’t deal in guns, and I don’t kill people to put fear into them or make them submit to me. I just don’t.”
Her frown seemed to deepen. “Then why did you agree to marry me?” she asked.
“That is for another time and place.” He looked toward his desk and picked up his cell phone. “I always offer people a choice, Lucia. This choice is yours.” He stepped toward her. “You can call your father, tell him everything I have done, and agree to work for him, in trying to lure me to my death. He might even believe you and possibly give you a good husband that will only beat you a little. Or, you put your trust and faith in me, and know that no matter what, I will not lay a finger on you. I will not hurt you. I will make sure you live a life you’ve always wanted, where you could do whatever the hell you want without fear. The choice is yours.” He put the cell phone in her hand. “I’ll be outside waiting for your decision.”
He walked past her and got to the door before she spoke, “Why me?”
“Because I couldn’t stand to see you hit.”
And with that, he left her, heading out toward the kitchen. The television was playing to itself, and he moved toward it, watching as the mayor was led away in handcuffs. How the mighty fall, with a little help from an outside source.
He watched for several seconds, then got bored. He was not interested in what the newscaster had to say. Turning off the television, he moved into the kitchen. It was dark and the curtains had been drawn. He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. The car had already been taken care of.
Seeing Leandro, he was excited about the next steps. The young boy was used to going around undetected. He wanted to make a name for himself within the Bonaldi family. The title of Capo will fall to the eldest brother, Enzo. Leandro was nothing. He had to compete with Enzo and Bruno in the sea of sons to make a name for himself, and he had turned to explosives. His young age and desperation made it easy for him to slip up.
Boone took a long swig of his drink as Lucia came into view. She stepped into the kitchen, and she still held the cell phone in her hand. He watched her as she held the device tightly within her grip.
“I ... I don’t know if I can trust you or not, but I know I can’t go back. Even though I had nothing to do with what has happened, I’d get blamed. Also, I just want to be free,” Lucia said.
“Is that what you’re asking for? Freedom?”
“Is our marriage even real?”
“Yes.”
“Are you who you say you are?”