Page 38 of Reign of Fate

I leave Evangeline smiling dreamily, taking Adriana’s hand to give Evangeline time to herself.

IVO

Raffaele is pacing the floor at our underground office beneath the nightclub like a caged animal. There’s nothing worse than our capo in the mood he’s in.

“His wife knows nothing?” he asks for the fiftieth time.

“Again, no,” I reply. “And before you ask the same question yet again, we have her phone tapped and a man sitting at the house. If he comes back, we’ll know about it.”

There’s a knock on the door. Raffaele barks for them to come in. Massimo pops his head in. “Bruto is waiting outside. Are you ready for him?”

Raffaele doesn’t answer, so Massimo glances in my direction for an answer.

“Is he alone?” I ask.

“He has Dino with him.” That’s his bodyguard.

“Let them through,” I reply.

Raffaele takes his place in the big leather armchair, watching Bruto as he enters. He’s reading every micro expression. He’s good at that. Raffaele senses a lie and has taught me how as well. So far, all I see is confusion and concern. Bruto is carrying a big, thick book, holding it out for Raffaele to take. Raffaele jerks his head to the coffee table in front of him. Bruto sets it down and waits for Raffaele to invite him to sit.

When Raffaele finally nods toward the chair, Bruto takes a seat and remains quiet. Raffaele is letting him stew. Silence can be a powerful tool. Silence can unnerve you. It allows your brain to come up with all kinds of reasonable or unreasonable scenarios. And right now, I see that Bruto’s thoughts are reeling. A hint of perspiration forms on his forehead. To his credit, he waits patiently for Raffaele to begin.

“I’ve always considered you a loyal soldier and underboss. That’s why you’re here today. Anyone else, and I would have you tied to a meat hook by your ankles and tortured. I’m going to give you the opportunity to explain yourself to me. For your sake, I hope you have the answers I’m looking for,” Raffaele tells him. Bruto swallows hard, but his confusion hasn’t wavered.

Bruto looks down at the book he’s brought with him. “That’s not why you’re here,” I tell him.

“Then I don’t understand. What do you think I’ve done?” Bruto asks.

“Let’s start with the paintings missing from the walls of Elisa and Guido’s home. Then you can explain why you’ve been hoarding money that should have gone to the widow of one of our own, your very own daughter-in-law,” I say.

Then I see it: shame. Guilt and shame. Raffaele looks at me; he sees it too.

“Care to explain?” Raffaele invites, gesturing with a wave of his hand.

“Guido was gone. There was nothing I could do to save my son, but I needed to try to save my daughter,” Bruto starts.

I tilt my head to one side, crossing my arms over my chest. “Elaborate.”

“Ruggero came to me a couple of weeks after Guido’s death and told me he made some investments. They didn’t pan out, so now Ruggero and Danilla are on the verge of bankruptcy. My own money is tied up in the new casino. I invested all my liquid assets. You can check,” he says, his gaze flitting from me to Raffaele as he taps his fingers on the book. “It’s all in here.”

“Go on,” Raffaele orders.

“When Elisa and Guido first got married, Guido bought several one-of-a-kind paintings. Their sale would be enough to bridge the gap until Ruggero could get back on his feet. Or that’s what he told me.” Bruto shakes his head and runs a hand over his face.

“It wasn’t enough, was it?” I ask.

“No. A month later, Ruggero came back and needed more money. My daughter is losing weight and is so stressed out, she’s terrified of her children losing their home. They’re my grandchildren. Elisa has always been a simple girl, and when I told her I needed to cut back, she never once challenged me. ‘Anything you think is best,’ is what she said.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I had to pull back from Elisa. I know she needed our family. Her family never understood why she married my son, but she saved him, and I was grateful for her place in Guido’s life. I couldn’t even go see Elisa after what I’d done. I couldn’t look her in the eye.”

“Is that when you sent Ruggero to the house to scare her out of her mind?” I ask snidely. If he thinks I’ve forgotten the bruises Ruggero left on her arm, he’s sadly mistaken.

“What are you saying? I’d never do that. What do you mean Ruggero went to see Elisa? When?” Bruto seems to be extremely shocked by my news. He didn’t know that Ruggero paid a visit to Elisa.

“Ruggero went to Elisa and forced himself into her home, then insisted on going through Guido’s personal belongings to bring items to you to assist you through your grieving process,” I inform him.

He’s clearly shocked. “Why would I do that? Elisa invited me to look through Guido’s things, and I told her all I wanted were some photos. She made duplicates, and I got them not even a week later. It was after that when all hell broke loose.”

“What do you know about Ruggero’s visits to Italy?” Raffaele asks.

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