Page 29 of Mafia Heiress
“Giacomina, someone would like to say hi,” Ciro says. My full name rolling off his lips sends a tingle up my back. A flashback of our time together has me squirming in my seat before I turn around.
The heat in Ciro’s eyes tells me he knows exactly what I was thinking about. I plaster on my award winning smile and look at Franco for the first time since I was a little girl.
“Hello, Ms. Gambino. I wanted to come and offer a place at my table tonight. I’ll be dining at Carmine’s and would love for you and your guests to join me,” Franco says, a slight bow in his posture.
“We’d love to,” I respond, keeping things light and girly.
All men want to believe you’re dumb without them. I don’t care if it’s the most progressive guy out there, he wants you to lean on him for protection. I need to make Franco feel like we’re here to party and nothing more. And if he does know about my father, he’s as good an actor as I am.
“I’ll have my driver pull around.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and starts speaking in Italian.
Dante cashes out my machine and we head to the doors once more. By the time we’re in the lobby the tension has grown a few levels. Something is going on with Franco and I need to find out what.
His driver is standing by the car with the door open. Dante goes in first followed by Franco, me, and Ciro. With a click of the door we’re sucked into the quietness of the car.
A part of me knows I should wait, but the other part, the one that needs to get the fuck back to New York, tells me I need to press this asshole and find out what’s going on.
I press the button to slide the divider closed and turn to Franco. “You know something.”
He tries to protest but Ciro carefully reminds him not to get worked up with a light smack to the back of the head. It’s a signature move for him, keeping the guys in line without too much aggression.
“You’re here because of that thing aren’t you?”
“And what thing is that, Franco?” Ciro asks, moving a bit closer to him in the seat.
Franco’s skin pales as he loosens his tie from around his chubby neck. The sweat is starting to bead on his forehead. His hands are twisted together in his lap, his breath coming in short bursts.
“Did they pay you to keep quiet?” Dante asks, interjecting for the first time.
“Yeah. I’m not proud of it because your father has been so good to me, but I had to pay some debts. I owed too much money to those guys.”
“Tell us everything,” I demand. “And if you leave anything out, I’ll find you and shoot you myself.”
He takes a long inhale and releases it. His eyes fix on mine before he starts to tell his tale.
“They came to me about two months ago looking for cheap real estate. Apparently, they have this thing here and want a base station for it. They also didn’t want to take on any extra payments so they needed it to be kept quiet. I was uncomfortable about it, but like I said, I needed the money.”
“And what else did they ask you for?”
“The average things. Did I have a connection to someone in shipping? If I had any guys who needed work? And something about getting an in at the airport, which I couldn’t help them with. That’s Saul the Butcher’s business. And he’s loyal to your father more than anyone.” He winces as he sees Ciro’s expression.
“Have you spoken to them in the last week?”
“No, they’ve been radio silent for a few weeks. I hoped they got sick of me and would leave me alone. I thought I was in the clear until I saw you at the slots. Then I knew some shit happened.”
“They took my father.”
His mouth drops open and he begins to make this weird whaling sound, as if he can’t catch his breath. He’s shaking his head and trying so hard to talk, I almost feel bad for him, if he wasn’t a fucking traitor.
“I had nothing to do with that. You have to believe me. I swear on the Blessed Mother.”
Ciro gives him another smack. “Don’t use Jesus’ mother’s name in vain. She’s not responsible for you being a pussy.”
“Giacomina, you have to believe me.” He throws himself on the floor of the limo kneeling before me, hands clutched in prayer. “I would never bring harm to your family. It was just a little money. Property and favors exchanged. That’s it.”
“If I didn’t have better things to do we’d be talking about your stupid decisions, but since my father is the top priority, you’ll give us the names of everyone you know who is working for them, where these properties are, and anything else you can think of.”
Dante pulls out a pen and notepad from his inner suit pocket. Franco accepts it without comment and begins to scribble furiously. By the time he’s done, we’re at the curb in front of Carmine’s.
