Page 29 of Angelo’s Vengeance (The Commission #3)

“He did.” Valentino looked over towards the door for a moment, and I wondered if he’d end the meeting right then.

He didn’t really owe me anything, least of all a detailed description of what was in his father’s private diaries.

Then, he said, “She wanted a seat at the table with the Five Families, and he had been inclined to help her get it. My father frequently wrote about how Carlotta wanted to control the mafia herself. How she wouldn’t be satisfied until she could do that, but she didn’t think she would be able to get the men of the Santelli mafia to fight for her.

He’d speculated that she’d be back when you were older and that she would try again.

” He paused. “My father wasn’t stupid about her.

I think he used her, too. Carlotta would stay with us or at our properties, but she was never allowed near our meetings or men.

My father was well aware of her dealings with the other dons and the power struggles.

At the same time,” Valentino smiled softly, “My father was lonely, and Carlotta amused him with her machinations.”

Taking a swallow of my drink, I considered what he’d told me.

It provided information I hadn’t had and was immensely valuable.

Hidey holes that we didn’t know about could lead to another location where she might be staying.

Not to mention, we could also check properties associated with other mafia dons or past dons she could be linked to.

“I appreciate the insight you’ve shared. It’ll be helpful to us.”

There was an imperceptible incline to his head, but he held up a hand. “Just so we’re clear. I’m not on anyone’s side but my family’s. Renzetti has blood in his eyes, and Carlotta? That woman has always been crazy.”

Bacco’s eyes sharpened at the slight hint of dissent, but I understood Valentino’s perspective.

His mafia was small, and the last thing he wanted was to become involved in a war that could spread beyond what they were prepared for.

Even though we were still trying to navigate the undercurrents of what we were facing, Cardoni was smart enough to realize that he needed to proceed cautiously.

No one could fault someone for not wanting to get too deeply involved.

“Of course, we understand where you’re coming from. You need to think of your famiglia first. Any help or information you provide is appreciated, but most of all, any help you don’t provide them is also important.” I made sure my point was clear.

Val sneered. “You can be sure that won’t be happening.” There was a considering pause. “That woman will get no help and no quarter from me.”

“Good to hear. She deserves none.”

Val leaned forward. “You’d better get ahead of this. Fast. This whole situation stinks to high heaven. Her coming back.”

I let my smile stretch slowly across my face. Cold. Empty.“We are moving heaven and hell to make sure she finds a cold grave. Everything the Commission has, we will throw at her.” Rising to my feet, I reached over with a hand to shake his. “I appreciate you coming all this way to meet.”

“Not a problem. I was happy to discuss this with you. I’ll check out those locations and send you an update.”

Watching him go, thoughts of other spots to check occurred to me.

I sent an update to our group chat about the meeting and then followed up with another text to Veronica so she could follow through on those leads.

Hopefully, something would pan out soon; chasing Renzetti and Carlotta was getting old when all I wanted to do was focus on Theodosia and how crazy she’d been making me.

Almost two weeks had passed since the plantation. Since Theo had nearly died in my arms. And still, every time I looked at her, I saw the blood soaking into her clothes. Heard her broken whisper. Felt the helpless rage clawing up my throat.

She was healing. The doctors said the surgery had gone well. Her physical therapy was progressing. Norris said she’d even started eating more, but I could see the restlessness in her eyes. She was bored. She was angry. She was trying not to let it show.

And I couldn’t blame her. She had lost the life that she had been carving out for herself, and now she was thrust into something she had fought against.

Still, we had broached something new that night in her studio — uncovered a new corner to explore.

I wanted her to choose me. So I’d continue to bide my time and try to breach those defenses.

Her asking me to help her forget had been the catalyst to move our relationship to a different phase, so I’d made sure to take advantage — to touch her at every innocuous opportunity: a hand at the small of her back, a caress along the back of her hand, a light kiss on the back of her neck.

Everything about her called to me like a siren—the fall of her hair, the glow of her skin, the taste of her.

Every night I stroked myself to the thought of her, the smell of her, the image of her tits until I came hard with the promise that one day soon I’d be balls deep in Theodosia Anthakos.

Norris met me at the front door of the brownstone when I got back just after midnight.

“Angelo,” he greeted with a polite nod, his voice the same calm gravel I’d come to rely on.

“How is she?” I asked immediately.

“Restless,” he replied, confirming what I already knew. “She was in the studio for most of the evening. Fell asleep in there with all of her fabrics.”

I sighed. “Thanks, Norris. I’ll just check in on her quickly.”

“I’ll reheat dinner for you,” he lifted an eyebrow.

I gave him a faint smirk. The man knew me too damn well .

When I peeked into the studio, Theo was still asleep.

The room glowed softly from the dimmed sconces, gold light pooling against walls lined with fabric.

I’d pulled every favor I had to get her things from Florence.

Since then, I’d had more fabrics flown in, from hand-painted bolts of silk to hand-dyed cottons from Delhi, and textures I didn’t even understand but knew she loved.

She was curled on the chaise, her dark hair spilling over the cushions, lips parted, her injured shoulder tucked protectively under her body.

I wanted to wake her up in the most delicious ways, and I was tempted for a moment.

However, she was still fragile from the ordeal my mother had put her through and I wasn’t that much of an asshole.

God, she looked breakable, but I knew better.

She was fire. Dangerous. Too smart for her own good. Which made everything harder. Because all I wanted was to keep her close and carve out the throat of anyone who so much as thought about hurting her again.

Moving back down the hallway to the kitchen, where Norris was humming around the darkened kitchen, I slid onto a stool and watched him as he bustled around before setting a heaping serving of lasagna and garlic bread in front of me.

Shoveling in a bite of food, I sighed with satisfaction as ricotta and tomato meshed in perfect harmony. “How are you, Norris? Anything new with your collection that I don’t know about?”

He grinned back at me. “I’m good, sir. I found a new piece. Very special. Not a crack. I’ve got the perfect spot for it.”

Grinning, I broke off a piece of bread while listening to him rave about his new flamingo cookie jar.

Norris was obsessed with cookie jars, all of which were different, according to him.

He was a passionate collector, always on the hunt for his next purchase on auction sites, in antique stores, or through garage sale listings. “You’ll have to show it to me.”

“I’d love to, sir. I confess that I’ve been waiting to show the new missus. Maybe she’ll think it’s strange.” He looked unsure.

“Of course she won’t. We’re all a little wacky on the inside, Norris. It’s what makes us interesting. Theo understands and appreciates that. It’s one of the things that I like about her.”