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“She’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say, studying him carefully. His interest feels genuine, but in our world, nothing is as it seems.
“Did she tell you anything?”
“Listen, Raffaele—”
“Raffy,” he interjects with unexpected familiarity.
“Raffy,” I repeat, tempering my impatience. “What I do with Alessa is my business. The Commission gave me this assignment and the freedom to handle it my way. But since you’ve shown respect today, I’ll tell you this much—Alessa isn’t hurt. Not yet.”
“She’s a good kid, Dominic.” He exhales another plume of smoke that curls toward the ceiling like a ghost. “She hasn’t done anything to disrespect the Commission. Whatever Marco did, she’s not part of it—she’s innocent. I hate to see her become just another casualty when I’ve done everything I can to follow my cousin’s wishes.”
“Which were?” My interest piques. Whatever this man knows could help me understand Alessa better, maybe finally convince her to reveal her father’s hiding place.
“How about this: I tell you something valuable, you give me something in return.” He doesn’t wait for my agreement. “Isabella wanted Alessa out of the Commission. It became her mission when she discovered she was pregnant.”
“Are you saying you helped her escape Cosa Nostra?” The puzzle pieces shift in my mind.
“After her mother died, I did.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you did a terrible job. Do you know how easy it was for me to find her in that penthouse?” Not entirely easy—the place was registered under a different name, and she used a pseudonym for her work. It took me two months to track her down.
“She was safe there,” he insists. “Until Marco decided to do something stupid and the Commission wanted her. But we both know she’s innocent as a lamb.”
“Why did Isabella want her to leave?”
“Because she never wanted her daughter to live the life she did.”
“And where were you when the Commission ordered the hunt?” I lean forward. “Why didn’t you stop it?”
Raffy shakes his head with a dry laugh. “That’s two questions from you. You have to meet me halfway, Mr. Gianelli.”
I study him, calculating what harmless information I can afford to share if this is a trap.
“I have reason to believe Marco is responsible for Isabella’s death.”
A heavy silence falls between us. My hand inches toward the gun at my waistband, ready for this to go south.
“At least I’m not alone in that theory,” he finally says. “Does Alessa know?”
“She’s in denial.” I frown, wondering why he never acted on his suspicions. “She believes the Commission killed her.”
“The Commission may be terrible people, but they’re not stupid. Isabella was their asset for years. There’s no reason to kill her.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“And Alessa? What do you plan to do with her?” His eyes—so like hers—probe mine.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, but it is. Like I said, she’s family.”
“I don’t know if you’re deaf, but this is the Commission’s business now.Vaffanculofamily. You don’t meddle in this, Raffy.”
“Let me share a secret, boy.” He crushes his cigarillo in the ashtray, embers dying with a hiss. Rising to his full height, he towers over my 6‘ 3 frame, methodically buttoning his suit as his gaze pins me in place. “I’m Paolo Russo’s only legitimate family left. I’m next in line when that old weasel dies. When I sit on the Commission, I plan to make things right for the Russos. It’s the least I can do for my cousin. How am I supposed to do that when her only legacy is dead?”
“I study him with new interest. He’s playing the same game I am—positioning himself for power, planning his ascension. The difference is that he’s merely aiming for a seat at the table while I intend to run it. When I’m Don Gianelli and he’s representing the Russos, we’ll be having very different conversations.
“That’s not my problem.” But it is. It means our paths will cross again if he’s appointed. And something in me rebels at the thought of Alessa rejoining that cursed family.