Page 20 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

CESARE

Dinner at Fallbrook was a formal affair.

The men were required to wear bespoke three-piece suits, the women tasteful dresses from the selection of handpicked Italian designers who were in Orazio’s good graces.

Dozens scrambled to be on that list just for the exponential clout it afforded them.

What the public didn’t know was that being on that list cost them a nice slice of their annual revenue.

‘Magnanimous’ wasn’t a word my grandfather was familiar with.

I arrived first and took my place opposite the space where my father would sit, to the left-hand side of the head of the table.

Rafaelle strolled into the dining room with Bibi on his arm, muttering something in her ear that made her roll her eyes. Her make-up was expertly applied but I could still see the faint bags under her eyes.

Hopefully the ball I intended to set rolling tonight would help us find our quarry quickly and she could get back to the usual challenges of evading Orazio and Papa’s clever traps.

Whatever Rafa said as they neared the table made her giggle, triggering my smile.

Rafa pulled out her chair and she took her place two seats down from me, before he claimed the one next to me.

‘I’m guessing the wives won’t be in attendance,’ Bibi said, eyeing the remaining place settings. She meant the wives of my uncle Bagio and Pietro, who were normally considered senior enough to eat with us.

‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Rafa replied.

She sighed. ‘Fuck, I’d hoped this would be a nice family dinner without the ritual grilling.’

Rafa grinned. ‘Nah, sis. If you have any skin left after the old man is done with you, you can have the aunties whisk you to the country club spa in the morning for a “Prosecco and dermal rejuvenation”.’ He said that last bit in the Barbie imitation of Pietro’s wife.

Just as Pietro walked in.

Bibi tucked away the middle finger she’d been aiming at Rafa and dutifully greeted our uncle, offering her cheek for a kiss.

Then Pietro shot a searing glare at Rafa. ‘Don’t know what you’re so cheerful about.’ His gaze swung to me. ‘You’re about to experience your grandfather’s full wrath.’

‘Thanks for the warning, Ziu. But it’s really not necessary. I’m inflammable and unflappable. Which is why I occupy this seat.’

The reminder of my superior rank stung, as I fully intended it to.

The first time I’d heard the phrase The Three Stooges in reference to Orazio Salvatore’s sons had been in middle school.

I’d patiently learned the meaning behind it, then waited for the pimply faced kid who’d dealt the insult to my father and uncles and rearranged his facial features in the art supply room.

Sadly, the connotations had proved correct, borne out by Orazio bypassing his own firstborn – and appeasing him with a token consigliere role he’d never utilised – to hand the underboss role to me, and never promoting Pietro and Bagio above the roles of mid-level capos.

Even the twins were ranked higher than our uncles.

Pietro’s attempt to stare me down started and ended within ten seconds, as did his disgruntled muttering when footsteps approached.

Renzo and Bagio entered first, followed by my father and the head of the family and the Salvatore Organisation.

As one, the men stood next to their chairs, arms clasped respectfully as Orazio Salvatore entered the room.

At just under six feet tall, he hadn’t attained the height he’d passed down to his sons and grandsons, who all edged him by two or three inches. For a time, he’d secretly worn shoes with lifts, then inexplicably gave up the ruse.

But secret lift or not, Orazio possessed an electrifying presence. I’d seen grown men piss themselves without a single word spoken by my grandfather. And on a visit to the Old Country years ago, more than one elderly woman had hurriedly made the sign of the cross upon seeing him.

With his neatly combed grey hair, which retained an impressive amount of black, and expertly cut Tom Ford suit gracing his trim body, he looked younger than his years.

Until he moved. Then the telltale signs of age showed in his stiffer spine and laboured breathing.

Orazio loved to refer to himself as a spry seventy-something. But no matter how physically sub-par he might have been, his bark still packed a considerable punch.

As I discovered the second he rounded the dining table to his place at the head and turned livid grey eyes on me.

‘When the fuck were you planning on telling me Mancinelli and his inbred spawn have been sticking their diseased peckers into our business?’ he bellowed right in my face.

Bibi flinched but kept her gaze on her plate as the men retook their seats.

Renzo’s fingers drummed on the table, a condition that either meant he was jonesing for a smoke or he’d taken something to take the edge off.

I cringed inside because right now I occupied Orazio’s full attention, but it was only a matter of time before he caught that faraway look in Renzo’s eyes.

The look he’d baffled everyone with since his seventeenth birthday.

The look he completely lost only when he was driving a race car.

Dante refused point-blank to talk about what the fuck was up with his twin, and we’d all stopped asking. As long as whatever secret he was keeping wasn’t a danger to himself or the family, I would let him keep it. For now.

I focused on my grandfather as one of the staff hurried over with Orazio’s favourite red wine and poured. I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew. Not after bellowing about it at the team meeting on Saturday.

I waved away the offer of wine. ‘I told you I was taking care of things. And I believe I have.’

‘You believe ?’ he sneered. ‘Did you not also believe you finishing in third would never happen again?’

Pointing out that I had finished second, not third, would earn me a backhand. I knew that as I knew the back of my own hand. So I cut through the bullshit. ‘ Sì , we have a mole. But if the information I’ve received is correct, the problem is bigger than that.’

He froze, his eyes narrowing. ‘Explain.’

I sucked in a short breath. The repercussions if I was wrong would be monumental. It might cost me the deal I’d made with Orazio.

But my gut told me I was on the right path.

‘I believe someone is attempting to destabilise us through the Mancinellis. I hope I’m wrong but if I’m not, we have bigger problems. We might be facing a scenario where Mancinelli didn’t do this on his own. That he might be seeking help from the Russians.’

The grenade bounced across the length of the dining table, peppered with mutters of ‘ miedda’ and ‘ figghiu ri butana ’. Then it detonated with a slam of Orazio’s fist on the table.

I felt a piercing gaze and darted mine right to meet Bibi’s. Her wide eyes fired silent questions at me.

How long have you known? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Fuck you, frate .

I responded with a brief look of apology before turning back to Orazio.

‘How long have you known this?’

‘My suspicions were raised last night. I received enough corroboration this morning.’

‘Corroboration is not enough. You better be 100 per cent sure of yourself before you go throwing around accusations like that, boy. We took a big hit the last time we clashed with those stronzos .’

‘I’m sure,’ I said, offering up a silent prayer to all the listening saints, and a vow to hunt down Nightowl and deliver a slow, excruciating death if it turned out this wasn’t the Russians and I’d been led on a dangerous wild goose chase.

‘It makes sense,’ Rafa said, propping me up.

‘Their second driver came out of the blue with upwards of a hundred mil to buy the seat. And sure, he’s got some talent but nowhere near what the crop of Formula Two drivers have got to offer.

Those fuckers are trying to haul themselves to the top by dragging us down and messing with us long enough to snatch the championship. ’

‘And I have people digging into it. I’ll know if this is their entire game plan or if they’re hoping it’s another gateway after we kicked their asses last time,’ I added.

We hadn’t escaped completely unscathed. We’d lost good men and good, seasoned soldiers in our year-long clash with the Russians five years ago.

‘But you’re sure it’s Liv Ivanovski and his crew behind this? Not some other outfit?’

The question came from my father, the first words he’d spoken to me since entering the dining room.

Unlike his brothers, he’d accepted my elevation above him with grace if not open pride.

And it may have had something to do with the life-altering reality of my mother – his childhood sweetheart – being slaughtered, shattering any ambition he’d harboured.

The last true Salvatore battle Giacomo had participated in was our clash with the Russians, when mired in grief and hungry for revenge, he’d personally slaughtered several of our enemies.

After that, he’d just… caved in on himself.

I watched him with a mixture of sadness and empathy now as I nodded. ‘As I said, it’s being looked into, but yes, I’m as sure as I can be in this moment.’

It had been the tiniest of tenuous links.

One casually tossed my way and halfway to being ruled out at the tail end of my conversation with the MIT hackers.

They’d cross-referenced Willow with every crumb of information on the Mancinellis and their racing team including Stan Paul, the new driver they’d acquired at the start of this season.

It’d tossed out a rambling list, at the end of which was the Russian word for willow. Iva.

It’d been like catching sight of a single flare of a match in the middle of a cyclone.

Your brain suggested it was a million other things, but your eyes insisted it was what it was. By the time my jet took off, the link had firmed.

Liv Ivanovski. Iva . Willow.

And he was either using the Mancinellis with their full cooperation or slithering his way into Salvatore business in the hopes of toppling us through our enemies.

Either way, I intended to crush him, once and for all.

‘Just like El Topo, to lie with other vermin and believe that he will better me in any way.’ Orazio lifted his glass and gulped a mouthful of wine. Then he pointed a finger at me. ‘I want your plan of action laid out for me by noon tomorrow.’

I cleared my throat. ‘With respect, Nonno , that’s not how I’m going to handle it.’ And I wasn’t going to. Probably because he would cut off both my hands if I told him my plan of action fully involved Maddelena Mancinelli. And my cock.

Another ripple of shock travelled down the table. Even Rafa stiffened.

‘ Scusi? ’

‘As and when I confirm that Ivanovski’s intentions reach beyond my…

our racing team, I’ll discuss our next steps with the famigghia .

But if he’s only coming after Furia, then I prefer to deal with him my way.

That is what we agreed after all, was it not?

’ I asked evenly before he could release the thunder and lightning brewing in his eyes.

His mouth worked for endless seconds while everyone held their collective breath.

At the first sign of the turbulence dissipating, my belly slowly unclenched. But I braced for the furious finger in my face once more. ‘The second you discover otherwise, you report to me. Capisci? ’

‘Understood.’

‘Thank fuck. Can we eat now? I’m starving,’ Renzo grumbled, unfortunately redirecting the storm towards himself.

‘And where the fuck is your shadow?’ Orazio barked at Renzo. ‘Did he not get the message that this was a family dinner?’

‘More like a firing squad,’ Renzo snarked under his breath.

Fresh thunder rolled across Orazio’s face. ‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing, Nonno . I think he’s taking us coming second and sixth a little hard. That Bellarussian fucker Paul drove me into the wall and Dante sprained something when he punched a wall. I think.’

‘Oh yeah? What’s he doing about it beside hiding in his room and crying like some pussy over a little sprain?’

Giacomo shifted in his seat. ‘Don…’

‘ Silencio! ’

I knew better than to show emotion for his treatment of my father. That would anger the old man more. So we all pretended not to notice our father cave in on himself a little at the berating.

‘Probably rejoicing that he doesn’t have to starve to death.’

I groaned inwardly as Orazio’s gaze snapped back to me. ‘He drove your brother into a wall and you still think we need to wait and see ?’ he snarled.

‘Yes. I do,’ I replied with a harder tone, and glared a warning at Renzo.

I withstood another long, searing stare from Orazio, every inch of my skin tensed in preparation to fight my corner. And just like last night, there was no explaining the undeniable notion that the foundation of my reasoning for taking this path involved Maddelena.

After a full minute, Orazio raised his fist. But it was to summon the staff hovering just outside the dining room doors.

Tempers settled. Delicious food was served. I made conversation. I ate.

But I was searingly aware of every second that passed brought me one second closer to the next time I was alone with Maddelena.