Page 72 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

Niccolo

T he entire helicopter ride back to the airport, I thought about Sofia.

Her smiles of amusement, which she gave so infrequently that they felt like a hard-won reward…

Her amazing intellect…

Her gorgeous body…

And those beautiful cries as she came.

Madonn, what a woman.

Which made it an unfathomable tragedy that, unless she turned…

I was going to have to kill her.

I didn’t want to think about that.

It filled me with dread and horror.

Even worse, I didn’t like admitting that I might not be able to go through with it.

Last night was magical.

The best of my entire life.

I could not imagine myself hurting the woman I’d spent it with.

So instead, I prayed I could have another night with her…

And another chance to change her mind.

The private jet flight from Nice had been a one-way trip. I would have to make other arrangements to return to Italy.

I snagged the last first-class seat available on a commercial flight to Paris.

The $18,000 price tag was high, though a mere pittance compared to the 375,000 euros we’d paid for the private jet to Hong Kong.

You had to keep everything in perspective.

While I was waiting to depart, I booked a connecting flight to Florence –

And realized I should probably call Roberto.

I had to warn him Fausto might have contacted Lau –

But I needed to be cautious.

Roberto had mentioned he was going to spend the night in one of Lau’s properties.

From what I knew about Lau, he was essentially a gangster – or at least gangster-adjacent.

As such, he probably had his fingers in all sorts of unsavory things… like filming people who stayed in his penthouse suite and using it as blackmail.

I would call Roberto’s cell phone, so if Lau had the place bugged, he wouldn’t be able to hear my side of the conversation –

But he would hear anything Roberto said, so I’d have to warn my brother to be discreet.

When I called, I expected him to already be up and about.

Hell, I didn’t even expect it. It was a given, seeing as the time was approaching noon.

Roberto had always been an early riser, the very picture of the saying ‘the early bird gets the worm.’

So imagine my shock when the voice that answered sounded like a chain-smoker on his deathbed.

“…hello?” he croaked groggily.

“Jesus, SOMEBODY went through the meat grinder,” I said in Italian.

I was actually quite happy. Roberto almost never cut loose; I was hoping he’d had a blow-out time last night…

As long as he didn’t give away any family secrets.

“It’s almost 11 AM – aren’t you out of bed yet?” I asked. “Or did you even GO to bed?”

He groaned. “Can you not speak so loudly?”

“I’m speaking in a normal voice, you little reprobate. How much did you drink last night?”

He paused, then answered, “Too much.”

“I’ll bet.”

I told him about flying back to Italy on a commercial flight, which alarmed him.

“Is that wise?”

“Flying OUT of Italy was the problem. I don’t think flying IN will be an issue.”

“It’ll certainly be cheaper…”

“Amen. Speaking of money we don’t have, what says Mr. Lau?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him today.”

“Of course not. You’re still in bed, recovering from an epic bender.”

“I’ll get the money,” he said crossly.

Here was the part I had to be circumspect.

“About that… be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful.”

“No – be CAREFUL,” I said, freighting my words with unspoken meaning. “Like you would if we were back home.”

He paused, and I could hear the frown in his voice. “Why do you say that?”

How to put it, exactly?

He didn’t know about Sofia – only Dario did –

And I couldn’t exactly say I slept with Fausto’s consigliere last night.

“Look, I can’t tell you HOW I know, so don’t ask… but I have reason to believe that these Syndicate people aren’t going to cooperate with you.”

“Well, they certainly don’t want to – but I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Roberto wasn’t getting it.

Time to be a bit more forward.

“Don’t react to the next thing I’m about to tell you,” I warned him.

“Why?”

“Because I think it’s possible your room might be bugged.”

Of course he reacted.

“WHAT?!”

I sighed in exasperation. “I just told you not to react.”

“I didn’t say anything – ”

“No, you just freaked out like I told you there’s a bomb in the room.”

“…IS there?!”

“No!” I laughed. He must still be drunk. “Well, not as far as I KNOW, and I assume it’s extremely doubtful. But are you going to be quiet when I tell you the thing I need to tell you?”

“Yes,” he said crankily. “Go ahead.”

“I think Fausto might have already gotten to your so-called ‘friends’ in the Syndicate.”

This time, he followed my advice.

“Why do you say that?” he replied in a neutral voice.

“As I already mentioned, I can’t tell you how I know. And I’m not absolutely certain.”

Ever the one for figures, Roberto tried to quantify everything. “How certain are you, would you say? If you had to put a number on it?”

“At least 80%. Maybe more. So like I said, be careful. This thing with the Syndicate… if it starts to go sideways, get OUT.”

“I’m coming back with the money, Niccolo,” he said in a quiet voice.

My heart ached.

Massimo was already in danger, and I’d nearly lost Dario to an assassin’s bullet.

The thought of my twin brother dying…

“You’re a million times more important than any amount of money, Roberto,” I said quietly.

He sounded touched by the concern in my voice. “Thank you… but I’m still coming back with it.”

“Alright,” I said grudgingly. “Just be careful.”

“I will.”

I remembered something else I needed to attend to when I got home. “By the way, I need the names of the bank managers who authorized the wire transfers.”

“Do you have a piece of paper?”

“Yes, hold on.”

I didn’t have earbuds – and I didn’t want to put him on speaker so I could jot the numbers down in a text file – so I went to the departure desk and asked for a pen and something to write on.

And then – Roberto being Roberto – he rattled off the banks and managers’ names from memory.

“Good,” I said, then teased him a little. “Talk to you soon, little brother.”

I’d beaten him out of the womb by 10 minutes. Throughout our childhood, I’d called him ‘little brother’ and told him he had to obey me.

He used to hate it –

But now he heard the affection in my voice.

“Talk to you soon,” he said –

And then he was gone.