Page 57 of The Proposal

“Are you going to question him about it?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“If this goes deeper than I think—all the way back to Stefano Rossi—then I need to be sure before I make a move.”

“When that first shipment was hijacked, I thought it was bad luck. When it happened again, I had my doubts. After the shooting on Christmas day …” He pauses for a moment before adding, “How the fuck did they gain access to the property so easily?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Romeo sits up straighter in his seat, his body tense as the veins in his neck protrude, and his face turns bright red. The sudden shift in his demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed. I can feel the heat of his anger radiating off him. I like that his passion is as strong as mine.

“It’s too much of a coincidence, right?”

“What’s our next move?”

“I was hoping we could brainstorm.”

“It’s going to take every ounce of strength I have not to lunge across the table and slit that filthy fucking rat’s neck next time we meet.”

I’ve always admired his loyalty to theFamiglia. It’s the reason why he stands beside me now.

Despite the implications of this dilemma, I still manage to bark out a laugh. Romeo is a good guy, but like me, if he’s pushed too far, he’s lethal. He had a shit life before joining our crew, so I know there’s a lot of pent-up anger simmering under the surface.

“I know. If I get confirmation this drama with those Mortelli fuckers leads back to one of our men, I’ll go fucking nuclear.”

“I’ll be right there beside you,fratello(Brother).”

We have a plan … well, the makings of one. First on the agenda is to get hold of Edoardo’s phone—not the one I gave him, but the one he carried beforehand. Hopefully, it will provide the necessary confirmation, and we can proceed from there.

First, I need to get him out of town so we can search his house.

“Dante,” Edoardo says, entering my office. “You wanted to see me.”

“I did,” I reply, gesturing towards the seat opposite my desk. “Sit.”

“I noticed the helicopter in the paddock when I drove in. Are you going somewhere?”

“No, you are.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I am? Where?”

“I have a shipment of tobacco that arrived on the container ship yesterday. In light of all the issues we’ve had lately, I’m sending you down to Sydney to ensure the exchange goes smoothly.”

Illegal tobacco has turned into a multi-billion-dollar industry in Australia over the past decade. High tobacco taxes, intended to curb smoking and increase government revenue, have unintentionally fuelled the black market, offering cheaper options for smokers and fuelling organised crime, making it incredibly profitable.

“Can I ask why you are sending me? This isn’t what I usually do.”

He’s right; he usually doesn’t do much aside from running his big, fat mouth, but I try not to let him see my anger. I can’t have him getting suspicious, especially if he’s going to return home and find his house torn apart.

“I need someone I can trust. Do you have an issue with that?”

Those words taste bitter on my tongue, but if I’m going to pull this off, they are words that need to be said.

“Sure, I can do that. What time do you want me to leave? I’ll head home now and pack a few things.”

“I need you to leave now.”

---