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“We haven’t been properly introduced. Name is Enu.”

Lorenzo glared as the African wiped his mouth and extended his large palm in greeting. After a moment Enu slumped back in his chair. “I will admit this is awkward. I have a lot of respect for your family. Actually theCammorain general. Unlike themafiosoyou men understand there can be alliances outside of Sicilian blood ties. You’re much more progressive.”

“We aren’t that tolerant.” Lorenzo scoffed.

“Giuseppe was. In fact he was quite accepting of new ways. Of change.” A beautiful black woman in a traditional wrap of green and gold brought a fresh drink for the Nigerian. She blinked her large brown eyes up at Lorenzo and then shied away. Lorenzo refused to touch his glass of wine. “Giuseppe’s missing, and this presents a problem.”

“Not for me,” Lorenzo sneered.

Enu chuckled, his dark eyes gleamed like those of a cobra with prey in sight. “I hear your boss is expanding the family business.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You sure about that? Not only does Giovanni Battaglia own the coast of the Amalfi but now he strives to extend his reach along northern Italy?” Enu raised his glass in a mock toast. “He does have balls.”

Lorenzo glanced at his watch. On the verge of dismissing the bastard he summoned restraint.

“He does understand that his interests have now become my own?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then you should help him with this understanding. Considering Giuseppe’s disappearance has many pointing a finger your way. In a time of war we can be quite useful.”

“The Nigerian Mafia? An alliance because that runt Giuseppe missed dinner?” Lorenzo spat out a burst of laughter. The humor drained from Enu’s face and his features hardened like stone.

“Are you fucking kidding me Eboo?”

“The name is Enu and I never kid. Yes, I propose an alliance because Giuseppe Calderone didn’t just miss dinner. He’s dead. You killed him.”

Lorenzo’s jaw went tight. He narrowed his eyes on the man before him.

“Giuseppe ran his mouth. The stupid fuck never knew when to shut up. He talked of you often. How you were his bitch.” Enu chuckled. “Didn’t like you much.”

“Feeling was mutual.”

“He also had a nasty habit of taping men.” Enu’s gaze flickered up and latched on to Lorenzo. “I hear he has tapes, very interesting tapes, of conversations he’s had with you.”

Lorenzo felt his hand tighten to a fist, but sat rigidly still. Was he bluffing? Did Giuseppe tape him the fateful night he spoke words that brought about his beloved uncle’s death. No. If Giuseppe had a tape of their conversation he would have leveraged it by now. It had to be a bluff. If this African knew of his part in Tomosino’s hit he would have played that card by now. At this point the bastard was simply feeling him out. “Giuseppe’s not my problem. But you have one. The same tall tales he told of me and my family he spread about you and yours. Said the Nigerians sucked his dick to pass their women and drugs through the triangle. He said youmoolignonswere under his command. And now Don Calderone knows of your deals. The war isn’t with the Battaglia’s. It’ll be at your door.”

The Nigerian broke the whiskey glass in his hand. He didn’t flinch at the glass slicing his palm or the blood splatter on the linen of the table. His dark irises went darker than coal. He snarled when he spoke. “You made a big mistake dismissing my offer of friendship.”

Lorenzo drank from the wine and set the glass back on the table. “Enjoy theraglione.” He said rising and walked out. He didn’t bother to look back. He needed to get home. Things were falling apart. And Giovanni would be on to him soon.

****

Catalina stood with her arms out as Mira measured and stuck pins in the dress before going back to her pad to write down her measurements for cutting the fabric. Clara paced nervously in front of the women, not sure what to make of all the pins and tape she saw covering the dress. Wringing her hands she finally spoke. “No cleavage must show and the hem must touch the floor.”

Mira looked over at her and smiled. “I’ll take care of her.”

Catalina stuck out her bottom lip. “I want some cleavage to show. It’s my dress!”

“Hush you silly girl!” Clara clapped her hands together to silence Catalina.

Fabiana frowned at the older woman. She and Mira exchanged a look. Fabiana rubbed her hands together, and tossed her long hair before approaching. “Clara, how many weddings have you been themasciataover?” Fabiana asked. She draped her arm around the woman’s shoulder.

“I’ve placed Italian brides with their chosen mates for over 50 years.”

“Fifty years huh? Impressive. And in fifty years how many dresses have you made for these brides?”