Page 52 of Sin City Obsession

The window containing Dante De Salvo’s open line adjusted until it filled nearly the entire screen. And though Alessa’s angle was imperfect, she was almost certain she caught a glimpse of glowing blue. Of course, his words were not for her. “Our support is unwavering. Call if there is something we can do for you.”

Rocco dipped his chin. “If it comes to that, I will.”

Then that window, too, snapped shut and the monitor went dark.

Rocco turned his head outward. “We have a little time before the club opens. Who wants the first interview?”

The Capos weren’t happy, of course. Rocco hadn’t expected them to be. He also didn’t care. They could have done every single one of the things they gave as excuses for not checking on his father’s wellbeingandeach made ten-minute detours at some point in their day. The seniormost of them had at least sent a text. Not overwhelming, but certainly better than nothing. The rest?

Rocco had half a mind to beat the rest of them until they lined the ICU on either side of his father and had all the time in the world to ask for updates. But they had been good soldiers for his father for the most part. That was why they were so highly ranked within the family. So he resisted.

But it was his family to run now, so he didn’t outright forgive, either.

One by one, Ugo escorted each Capo into and then out of the office Rocco had temporarily commandeered from Tino. Tino himself had slipped out, probably planted himself at the club’s bar, because this was not something he got to witness so closely. Ignazio moved to stand just outside the borrowed office door while Em and Alessa remained in the office with Rocco. Em was an obvious, expected choice. Alessa was something of a test.

The Capos were brought inside in order of seniority. Of course, given the hard lives they all lived, that didn’t necessarily mean eldest to youngest. It meant that Vin, the man who had served the Cavallo family the longest, got the honor of speaking to Rocco first, when Rocco was likely to have the most patience and be the most calm. It also meant that Vin had the experience to know to keep his eyes forward or down on the floor.

Rocco found he even believed Vin when Vin punched a trembling fist into his open palm and gruffly apologized for his oversight. Vin swore it had been his earnest response to arm himself and join the hunt for the assassin and whomever hired him. That was a little frustrating, but at the same time, reassuring. His father had always liked Vin.

After Vin came their eldest Capo, a man of comparable age to Rocco’s father, named Guiseppi. Guiseppi was a harder man in every way than his fellow Capos, and Rocco was well aware that he had even voiced disagreements with Rocco Senior over the years. What Rocco was less clear on was howthose disagreements had been settled and why his father had tolerated repeats of that behavior.

Guiseppi glared around the room as if he hadn’t already seen it, then bent at the shoulders before dropping into the seat opposite Rocco’s borrowed desk. “If I may ask one question before you begin,” he said.

Rocco furrowed his brow. “You may ask.” He didn’t promise to answer, or not to get pissed over the question itself.

Guiseppi kept his stare on Rocco’s, his tone flat, and his expression even. “Are you sure it’s safe to speak in front of the woman? She’s an outsider.”

Rocco tensed, hands curling into fists, but forced himself to draw a breath. He replayed Guiseppi’s words through his mind, trying to listen to them more slowly. Listening for inflection. The question wasn’t flattering, but it didn’t quite dip into an insult, either. If he could be objective, he might even say it was fair.

Rocco forced his fists to unclench. “She’s mine.”

Guiseppi’s mask finally cracked, his dark eyes widening a fraction, before he quickly dipped his head. “Apologies.”

Instead of adding more, Rocco pushed ahead with his interview. There were only a few basic things he wanted to know that afternoon. The questions themselves were less important than the conduct of the men who answered. So, while most of Guiseppi’s answers were tight, Rocco found that most likely he didn’t deserve more than a solid punch to the face. He’d probably let the man keep his post for the time being.

With that, Guiseppi was sent out, and Ugo escorted the next Capo into the room. This one was Ugo’s nephew,forty-year-old Adelmo. This was the one who’d tried making an issue of Alessa during the main meeting.

Adelmo stopped just shy of the chairs in front of the borrowed desk, flicked a glare in Alessa’s direction, and looked at Rocco. His intention to say something stupid was plain on his face before he’d even opened his mouth. “For as much as your position demands my respect, Don Cavallo, I have to insist the whore is removed before we discuss private matters.”

Chapter sixteen

Cleaning House

The whore.

Adelmo’s choice of description dragged over Rocco’s brain like nails on a chalkboard.

Alessa spoke up for the first time since they’d entered the club. “I’m sorry, does my pantsuit distract you? Or are you the kind of man who’s made insecure when he’s asked to share a room with a woman who’sarmed?”

Adelmo glared straight at her. “A whore in pants is still a whore. Only the stupid ones don’t carry.This just—”

Rocco’s fingers closed around the simple stapler he’d pushed to the far side of Tino’s desk, and with one sharp movement, he hurled the object at the man he officially wanted to mangle. The stapler twisted in the air and slammed sideways into Adelmo’s unsuspecting shoulder. Aiming with a stapler was harder than aiming with a dagger, then.

“Fuck!” Adelmo cursed, taking a stumbling step back and catching the stapler probably on reflex. “What the hell?”

Rocco stood. “You served my father for close to twenty years,” he said, his voice hard. “Yesterday’s unexplained and frankly inexcusable negligence aside, I would consider you one of our best. So I’m not going to kill you, Adelmo.”

Adelmo’s eyes widened.

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