Page 54 of Enzo
I woke up refreshed and rested, having slept better than I had in years.
Penelope was fast asleep, her hands pressed together under her cheek, her long, dark eyelashes brushing against her rosy skin.
Letting her sleep in, I got up, took a shower, then went downstairs to prepare everything for our departure. We would sail the Mediterranean, visit a few hotspots that I’d read about on this year’sForbestravel guide, and then return to Naples.
I entered the kitchen and found my captain sipping his coffee with Alex, my head surveillance man. The job was by no means exciting, but someone had to do it.
“Good morning,” I greeted. “Everything ready, Captain?”
He hesitated.
“Actually, boss, we ran into some engine issues and I’d like to have a day to check it all out before we launch. If you don’t mind.”
My brow furrowed. “The yacht was just fully serviced. It went into dry dock back in August. There shouldn’t be any engine issues.”
“Exactly, but I couldn’t start it this morning and I’d like to be sure.”
I paused, considering my options.
It was probably best that my captain played it safe, which meant extending our time in Naples. Maybe I’d take Penelope sightseeing? She hadn’t seen much of Italy, her father mostly sticking to his own territory.
“Okay, but no later than tomorrow, understood?”
He nodded, and I left them to it.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, and then headed into my office to get some work done while I waited for Penelope to rise for the day.
Thirty minutes later, midway through a conference call with the Omertà in regards to drug shipments, I gave up and came to the conclusion that my attention was shot. My mind was stuck on my wife. I knew everything there was about her—facts, accomplishments, milestones—but I didn’t know her well enough to predict her thoughts.
Obviously, I miscalculated how she would react upon learning that I’d stalked her for a few years. Or tricked her into giving me her virginity.
But what had she expected?
I couldn’t let someone else take what was mine.
“What do you think, Enzo?” My father’s voice boomed in, snapping me out of my thoughts. He must have known I wasn’t listening because he repeated his question. “Should we start routing our shipments via Sicily?”
In the past, we’d bypassed Sicily due to the feud, but now that we were technically family, it made sense to do that rather than bring the product to Naples and Rome. It’d increase our profits.
“If Luca’s amenable, we should utilize his warehouse on the island. Offer him ten percent of the additional profit.”
“Look at you, brother,” Amadeo drawled. “Being all responsible and shit.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Sound decision,” Uncle Manuel added. “It’ll also let us focus on fighting organ trafficking.”
I tensed. “Have there been more cases?”
“Yes, but we identified a pattern,” Manuel said, his voice grim. “Every victim so far has had O-negative blood with one exception. Tests from a young male who washed up on Ischia shores had Rhnull blood.”
“I’ve never heard of that blood type,” Father muttered while I vigorously typed a message to my brother.
Me: Don’t mention the DiMauros’ blood type.
“It’s often called golden blood,” I added reluctantly.
Amadeo: Why not?
