He doesn’t see what I see: that Luca D’Amato thinks theyarea consideration. It occurs to me that he might have invited us here to watch him put the kid down, witness the true end of the Clemenza Family.
I’m not going to let that happen. The only person in this room with the right to do that isme, and I?—
“Orsini,” D’Amato says. “I’m told you have a vendetta against the Clemenzas.”
I pull my attention off the snake at last and look at D’Amato. For years, I thought my vendetta was a secret. In the last few weeks, I’ve learned how far from the truth that was.
“I put a leash on Orsini,” Big Gee growls. “He’s not the one killing them.”
“I’d like to hear that from him,” D’Amato says mildly.
D’Amato’s husband is studying me, staring hard from my face down to my hands that haven’t unclenched since I walked in, to my legs locked in place like I’m a rooted tree. It’s unnerving, mostly because I don’t know what he’s looking for, and I don’t know what the Clemenza has told them.
“Orsini,” Big Gee snaps. “Tell the man what he wants to hear.”
“I’m not the one killing them,” I say after a pause.
“Not exactly a resounding rejection of the idea,” D’Amato says. “But it’s true you have a grudge?”
If I look at the Clemenza again, I might lose it, so I keep looking at D’Amato. “My father was murdered by Cesario Clemenza. His—” I flick a finger at him. “—father.”
“And yet,” pipes up Finch D’Amato, “you’ve offered the son protection? How does that work?”
None of your fucking business, I want to tell him. But I shrug instead. “There’s an order of protection out on the Clemenzas,” I say, my brain finally chugging out of the shock of seeing the one person I didn’t expect to see here. “This one was offering himself up at the Obelisk. So I bought him.”
“Listen to him. Not an ounce of shame,” Finch marvels with a smile.
“What does he have to be ashamed of?” Caligula asks sharply. “He’s the only man in New York who put his money where his mouth is and protected me.”
“And where has that mouth been since?” Finch holds up a hand as I give a jerk. “Bad joke. I apologize.”
“Baby bird,” D’Amato says, without looking at his husband, “this is business. Why don’t you…”
“I’ll wait over here,” Finch says. “I don’t get involved in business. Usually.” He winks at me and wanders about three feet away to lean against the metal shelving.
It just means I’ve got a clearer view of Caligula Clemenza, who hasn’t taken those golden eyes off of me.
“Mr. Clemenza asked me to call the two of you in,” D’Amato says. “After my people picked him up on the streets early this morning. He says you’ve been very kind, Orsini.” D’Amato’s tone suggests he thinks it’s more likely hell froze over.
He’s right, of course. But I know the game the Clemenza is playing. He hates the Morellis more than he hates me. He probably thinks he can slip away from me again, as long as he can talk his way out of Luca D’Amato’s hands.
“I wanted you both, Don Morelli and Don Giuliano, to know how honorable Dami has been,” the Clemenza announces in that snotty tone that drives me crazy. “He hated my father, but he doesn’t hold me responsible for my father’s sins. What reasonable man would, after all?”
I am going to kill this asshole so fucking hard once I get him out of here.
“Mr. Clemenza insists he wants to be released back into your care,” D’Amato goes on. “But I couldn’t do that without seeing for myself what kind of man you are, Orsini.”
I open my mouth to say something, and find nothing.
“He’s a good man,” Big Gee says at last. “He does what he’s told.”
“Is that what makes a good man?” D’Amato asks. “Rhetorical question,” he adds, when Big Gee starts blustering out a reply. He looks at me. “You’re telling me you’ve given up your vendetta?”
“You completely misunderstand our relationship, Don Morelli,” says the Clemenza. He pushes past D’Amato and practically runs at me, throwing his arms around my neck and then?—
He’s kissing me. Full on the fucking mouth.
My arms go around him automatically, and the world shrinks down to the feel of him. His lips, his arms, his body winding around mine. He fits against me like he was cut to measure, perfect as a Lorenzo Benedetti suit.