Page 82 of Deal with the Devil
I pause midstep on my way to the closet, half turning for a look at him. “Can’t you just tell me what this is about?”
“It’s the Tucos. They’ve finally retaliated.”
21
DIAVOLO
We’ve been backfor less than a minute, and I’m already thinking about whose head needs to roll first.
Gavino promptly steps to the side to open the rear door for me. I slide inside, Portia soon to follow. She’s hardly spoken a word over the last ten hours. For the duration of the flight from Sicily into Newport, she’s been suspiciously silent, more observant than anything.
I’ve made a mental note of it.
But I have more pressing issues to worry about, like the fact Titus Tuco waited until I was out of town like the fucking codardo that he is.
Titus used his newest capo to do his dirty work. Dario Cortese and his crew set fire to the warehouse we had just set up in the Grove for our expansion efforts for Nectar.
Of course the motherfuckers didn’t want us to prosper as they fell more and more behind in the seller’s market. But it wasn’t just jealousy about how we blew them out the water selling our product on the streets—this was aboutretaliation.
Rafael mistakenly believed Tuco had something to do with Portia’s disappearance, so he snatched his kid right out of college and left him in pretty bad shape.
Tuco wasn’t going to take that shit laying down.
There was no other option than to do something as drastic as burning down our warehouse.
But it doesn’t matter why he did it. I’ll hit him back twenty times harder. I’ll crush Titus Tuco and the entire Tuco family once I’m through with them—and I won’t need anybody’s help to do it.
Don Vito doesn’t even need to lift a shriveled finger. I’ve got it, like I always do.
As we brake for a red light, I take the moment to glance over at Portia.
She’s still silent and observant. Her eyes are on the window, staring at the city skyline like she can’t believe she’s back home after being gone for so long.
This is the first time she’s been back in Newport since she moved to DC. It must be conflicting for her to be home but not be home at the same time. Some part of her must know she’s still a captive; she won’t be free any time soon.
…if ever.
Some would say it’s worse than being thousands of miles away in Sicily.
At least the distance put home as a far off possibility. Having home around the corner adds an extra cruel element to the captivity she seems to be aware of as she stares longingly out the window, then releases a shaky breath.
But if she’s expecting any comfort to be offered, she’ll be sorely disappointed once again.
I’m no Rafael and won’t ever pretend to be. Regardless of how captivating she may be, she’s still my prisoner, and that’s the harsh reality she must face.
No amount of longing looks out the window and pouty frowns will change that.
When the car rolls to a halt outside the Newport Financial Tower, her posture straightens. She recognizes the building, her gaze swinging from the polished golden doors over to me.
The last time she was here, she was withhim.
I bet they spent many nights here together.
Many romantic evenings sipping wine and soaking in his fucking jacuzzi and staring at the night sky.
He’s exactly the type who would spoil a woman in such ways.
The elevator ride up to the top floor is a quick one. The doors roll apart with a ding. I step out to find my staff already waiting for me, ready to take whatever orders I give them. I issue Mara hers first.
