Page 78 of Mafia Darling

“Ciao, Fausto!”

It was as I thought. I would know his voice anywhere. “Ciao, Mommo. Come stai?”

“Va bene, va bene. That package you need to return? Have you given it more thought?”

I wasn’t fooled by his code. By package he meant Enzo—and I wasn’t returning that stronzo except in pieces. Plus, Mommo had already tried this. Why was he pushing the matter again?

“I decided to keep it. It’s fragile and won’t last much longer.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, Mommo said, “That is disappointing to hear. Your father would want you to do the right thing, especially on the heels of the joyous wedding last night.”

Cazzata. My father would have relished torturing Enzo to death right away, no matter which members of La Provencia complained about it.

But what worried me was how Mommo had learned of my wedding so quickly. My come was practically still drying on my wife. How the fuck had word spread so quickly?

“I am surprised you heard.”

“You know these men.” He chuckled, a deep smoker’s rasp that spoke of a lifelong habit. “They gossip worse than old women.”

Marco walked in and he frowned when he saw my expression. I turned my attention back to the call. “Yes, they do. Still, I would feel better if I knew where your information has come from.”

“It’s not every day that one of our most powerful leaders gets married, Fausto. Everyone is talking about it. Jealousy, no doubt, over your beautiful wife.”

I squeezed my fingers, making a fist over and over. “And yet I haven’t heard you offer up your congratulations.”

The resulting pause told me everything I needed to know. “Congratulations, my boy. Evviva gli sposi!” The traditional well wishes sounded forced.

“Thank you,” I said coolly. “Was there anything else?”

“No, but they will demand answers regarding that package in a few weeks when I see you. This will not go unnoticed.”

He was talking about Crimine, the yearly meeting for the highest ’Ndrangheta leaders. “I am more than happy to explain myself, but this is a private matter. They will understand.”

“I hope for your sake that you are right. I must go. Ciao, Fausto.”

We rang off and I tossed my phone onto the desk with an angry clatter. I dragged a hand through my hair. “I don’t like this,” I said to Giulio and Marco.

My cousin rubbed a hand over his mouth. “How did he hear of your wedding so quickly?”

“That is a good question.” I leaned back and exhaled toward the ceiling. Madonna, it wasn’t even nine o’clock and this day had already turned to shit. “Where are we with our investigations into the men?”

“Emilia thinks Benito is clean. I spoke with her yesterday,” Marco said. “There’s nothing in his finances that suggests any money coming in or out, not more than the usual. At least that she could find.”

“I’m close with Benito,” Giulio agreed. “I would know if he was working with one of our enemies.”

Maybe. I wasn’t willing to risk my family’s safety on maybe, though. “Where are we with the others?”

“Emilia’s working on it. I gave her more names to investigate. She did say Vic’s stuff is heavily locked down. She’s coming up against dead ends everywhere.”

“That is suspicious.”

“Maybe, but maybe not,” Giulio said. “He’s a tech guy. He’s not some clueless soldier who’d keep his money under the mattress.”

The pit of my stomach churned as I considered this. I wanted answers. Normally, I was a patient man, but every day this traitor remained in the shadows was a risk to everything I loved. “Still, I don’t like it. We’re keeping him off the estate?”

“Certo,” Marco said. “He’s working on beefing up the security at one of the warehouses. I’ve got a few guys watching him.”

“Should we try to sweat him? Bring him to the dungeon and see what we can find out?”

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