Page 42 of Bitter Poetry

He snorts a humorless laugh. “Asshole. Do you think she’ll give anything away seeing you so close during the wedding.”

“No.” Possibly… probably, and we’re both fucked if she does.

“Did Ettore mention anything about me being back?”

“Nothing. But he must know by now. That he didn’t bring you up probably means the news is festering away at him.” I reach for my whiskey. “Here’s to assholes and initiations by fire. On any given minute, hour, or day, I can feel like I’m sinking or on the verge of making some headway. If you hadn’t come back, I would’ve been screwed.”

“You’d have worked it out.” He shrugs and offers a tight smile. “Maybe a bit slower. Although dealing with the dancers from Gigi’s is very distracting. You’re definitely not in the right frame of mind for their bullshit.”

“Fuck off. You really don’t mind.”

He smirks. “There have to be some perks to working twenty-hour days. Lucky for you, I was getting bored with the endless party life.” His smile fades. “You know we can’t take him on yet.”

I bristle.

Leon often exudes a carefree, easy-going persona, until he doesn’t. The transition between the two states can be jarring to the uninitiated.

“Don’t give me that damn look, Dante. My mother is in my ear daily, and so is my sister, like I don’t already feel as if I’ve failed Carmela.”

“This isn’t your fault,” I say.

“Isn’t it?” His sigh is heavy. “Maybe if I’d come back sooner?—”

“You’d probably be dead, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Well, don’t sugar coat it for me,” he mutters.

I raise a brow. “Like you did for me?”

“Fair point.” His face hardens. “We’re both trapped, Dante. We’re both going to have to bide our time. In my gut, I know Ettore had some part in my father’s death. I’ve spent the last three years playing a spoiled rich boy partying too hard in the wake of his father’s death. But I’ve been quietly searching forthe evidence, for something, anything, I might have brought to Cedro. I was too fucking slow. Now the stakes have escalated through the roof, and I still don’t have any evidence. This isn’t only about what happened to my father anymore. Not even about Cedro and his late wife. What Ettore did with you and Carmela is a weak don seeking to legitimize his claim. Maybe he wanted to marry her to his younger brother to strengthen his ties. Maybe he always wanted her for himself. That this attack happened conveniently on the eve of Cedro announcing your engagement is hard to brush off as a coincidence. A strong don would have endorsed your wedding and kept you as his consigliere. Everything he does, every action, and every word, only deepens my convictions about his character.”

His eyes hold mine. What has happened is not his fault, but the guilt wracks him all the same.

“The thought of her with him makes me want to go on a fucking rampage, Leon. Do you have any idea how many times I go to my safe for the gun?”

A smile ghosts his lips. “Yeah, I do. That’s why I have you watched. We have to be smart about this, Dante. Our deaths won’t help Carmela.” His cell buzzes, and he takes it out of his pocket, grimacing as he checks the screen. “Trouble in the VIP section. I’d better go. Catch you later if you’re still around.”

“I’ll still be around.”

He chuckles as he exits the office because we both know I’ll still be here.

On the surface, Leon plays the part of my subordinate. He’s not. When I called him the night Ettore made me a capo, I laid out a partnership for him to consider. While we bring different skills and contributions to the table, our ideology and end games are aligned.

The bottom line, I trust him, and in him.

There are risks ahead of us. Our collective families may be in Italy, but that still makes me twitchy. It would be better if there were no weak points for Ettore to exploit.

Ettore is marrying Carmela, and there is nothing I can do.A wedding where I’m a groomsman and must watch the man who screwed me over claim the woman he screwed me over for… among other things.

A disturbance outside the door snags my attention. My head lifts, and my brows pull together.

These underground offices are inside a secure corridor… It’s not like trouble in the VIP section can spill back here, yet something is off. I’m reaching for my desk phone when the door slams open and crashes against the wall. My guard is lying face down on the floor outside the door. I can’t see blood, but he’s not moving.

Leon?Enough time has passed since he left that he should be well away from the corridor and whatever this is, but I can’t entirely dismiss the notion of him lying dead out of my sight.

“Hands on the desk where we can see them.” I don’t recognize the man pointing a gun directly at me. One of Jimmy’s buddies that I’ve pissed off by cleaning up the business? Or someone sent by Ettore?

Fuck my life.