“See?” D’Amato says, as Fontana hacks me free. “We’re all good here.”
“I’ll wait outside,” is all Fontana says. He leaves, taking the balled-up duct tape with him, and I’m left alone with Luca D’Amato. I shake out my hands and try to rub some feeling back into them. The blood returning to my fingers burns.
“Caligula Clemenza,” D’Amato says. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
CHAPTER 3
DAMIANO
I’m wrecked.Everything aches: my back where the stitches are pulling, my foot from the dumpster, my teeth from clenching them all night. But anger is keeping me focused. I call Rosa on the intercom to send breakfast up to the sunroom, plus lots of black coffee. Then I shower and dress, keeping my eyes away from the bed the whole time. I choose warmer clothes for what will no doubt be a bitch of a day. It’s not even winter yet, and snow is already looming.
But I’ve got much bigger problems than early snow.
Not only has Caligula Clemenza escaped, he’s left me with a pile of shit to deal with. That dead Bratva, Grisha, for one. Daniel King will be out for my head, and I’ll have to explain to Big Gee why I started a Mob War with the Bratva over a fucking Clemenza.
I’ll also have to explain why that Clemenza prince, who was supposedly so grateful for my protection, has suddenly vanished.
That snakey littlemotherfucker.
I take the stairs up to the sunroom, where Rosa is setting out breakfast like I asked. But I stop dead when I see two places laid out on the table. Two places set with pieces from my collection of the Clemenza china.
She must see the look on my face, because there’s caution on hers as she backs up to the buffet.
“Go.” I know I can only get one word out before I lose it completely, so I make it count. She scurries out of the room. And then, alone with a mockery of what I’ve lost, I sweep the bowls and plates and silverware off the table, letting them smash and splinter on the floor.
When I glance up, Rosa has paused on the landing outside, staring in shock. As our eyes meet, she darts down the stairs.
But I’m too far gone to care. I stamp down on the broken pieces, grinding them under my boots, imagining Caligula Clemenza’s face in the place of fine china.
When I’m done, I take a deep breath and raise the security gates covering the sunroom windows so I can go out to the balcony. I like to sit out here on warm summer evenings, but this morning I lift my face into the biting wind to help cool the rage.
Why the hell did Rosa use the Clemenza dishes? She never has before.
Wait. I’m not thinking rationally. As far as Rosa, Vito, and Sammy are concerned, the Clemenza had become part of the place. Didn’t he sit around with us last night at dinner, smiling and laughing and acting like we were one cozy family?
Even then, he must have been planning his escape.
But as far as Rosa knew, I’d taken him into the household. Into my bed. Into my…
I suck in cold air and blow it out as a plume in the gray dawn. On the bridge, traffic is already twinkling in a steady stream of headlights and taillights, diamonds and rubies sparkling on a string. The city moving on like it always does.
Rosa probably laid out the Clemenza china as a welcome to a man she thought was an ally. So I can’t blame her. This is Caligula’s doing—and he’ll pay for it. I need to eat fast and get back out there. Find that little fucker and make him wish he’d never been born.
I’m still shaking from all the adrenaline, so I grab onto the railing and try to focus on the cold metal stinging my hands. It doesn’t work.
All I can think of is his fuckingface.
I go down to the kitchen and find Rosa and Vito standing together at the counter, Vito with his arm around Rosa, comforting her as she talks in quick, quiet Italian. They both look up at the sight of me, and Rosa’s stream of chatter stops dead. Vito comes around the corner of the counter, pushing Rosa slightly behind him. I stop, surprised. Vito is much older than I am, but his body language is unmistakable.
He’s expecting violence. And in Rosa’s face, something that I’ve never seen before. Fear. Fear ofme.
What the hell do they think I’m going to do?
But I catch sight of myself in the dark window over the sink. The security shutters are still down all over the house, so my reflection is dark and shadowed, but that’s not why the man staring back at me is so unfamiliar. I look wild. Enraged.
Vicious.
Even though he’s gone, that serpent’s bite is still poisoning everything he left behind. But I can’t do what needs to be done if my own household is shrinking away from me. I turn away and pour myself a mug of coffee from the pot, forcing my hands to be still and careful. I’ll choke down my anger for now. Let it all out later.