Page 7 of The Empress

“If I remember correctly, the brother left Italy to live in the US when he was young. The family was upset because he married an American woman and didn’t want anything to do with the business.”

His phone beeps, and it has him struggling to pull the device out of his pocket. He reads the message, then says, “Franca says the kids want pizza. Will you stop at Basile’s?”

“Sure.”

Massimo married Franca the year I took over as head of the mafia. She’s the only woman he has eyes for, and she has him wrapped around her pinky.

Even though I’m twelve years younger than Massimo, he’s made me Leandro and Amara’s godfather. I love the kids like they’re my own.

I listen as he calls the local pizzeria and places an order so it’s ready for us to collect on the way home. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he asks, “What were we talking about?”

“Nicolo’s brother.”

“Right. I think the woman we saw coming down the stairs is Nicolo’s niece.” He glances at me. “Santo’s daughter.”

“I guessed as much, but it’s difficult to believe,” I mutter as I take a left at a set of traffic lights. “Haven looked nothing likethe American that Giada introduced us to, and I assume Santo resembled Nicolo.”

“Liliana didn’t turn out too bad, and she’s a Romano.”

“Liliana got her good looks from Giada.”

“True.” He shrugs. “Maybe the niece takes after an aunt or uncle on her mother’s side?”

“Yeah.” As I drive toward the coast, Haven’s beautiful face pops into my mind. I’ve seen my fair share of gorgeous women, but there’s just something about her that draws and holds my attention. It’s actually unsettling.

It’s her big brown eyes that are filled with a world of innocence.

And the dimple.

“She must’ve made one hell of an impression on you for you to remember her name,” Massimo teases.

“I might not be interested in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.” Shaking my head, I force my thoughts away from the woman and think about the upcoming attack on Vito Santoro. “Do you think Luciano will come on Tuesday?”

He shrugs. “We’ll have to wait and see.” His eyes flick to me. “What do we do if the fucker chickens out?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Kill him. It will give me the reason I’ve been looking for to take out Nicolo as well.”

“There’s no proof Nicolo was involved with the attack on your family,” Massimo says for what must be the hundredth time.

“He was the first person who tried to take over control of the organization.” My gaze flicks to Massimo. “Hours after my father was killed.” I turn my attention back to the road as we pass a few stores that are already closed for the night. “If that bastard were loyal to my father, like he claimed to be, he would’ve backed you instead of being a conniving asshole.”

Massimo sighs and gestures at the side of the road near Basile’s Pizzeria. “Park there.”

Just as I bring my Ferrari to a stop, Alfio, the owner, comes rushing toward us with the box in his hands.

Massimo lets down his window and gives the man a thankful smile as he takes the pizza. “Thanks, Alfio. I’ll settle the tab at the end of the month.”

“Any time. Give my regards to Franca,” the old man says before heading to where people are seated at tables out on the sidewalk.

The smell of grilled cheese and tomato fills the cab, and I press the button on the side of my door to let down my window as well. I don’t want my car smelling like pizza for the next few days.

Massimo opens the box and helps himself to a slice. When there’s a long string of cheese, I mutter, “Don’t make a mess in my car.”

“Yeah-yeah.” He takes a massive bite before grinning at me. “Want some?”

I shake my head, and just to fuck with him, I floor the gas and the sports car shoots down the narrow road with one hell of a roar.

He clings to the box while glaring at me, and when I take the turn up the road he lives on, he mutters, “Franca is going to kill you.”