Page 73 of Hostile Love
Rocco hasn’t earned my trust yet. As far as anyone outside of my family is concerned, the Souzas are invincible. And that includes André in his hospital bed.
When a Souza falls, they always rise.
“My brother is a strong fighter. He’ll be leaving the hospital very soon. As you can imagine, I’m keen to exterminate the rat infestation ahead of him being discharged.”
Rocco lightly drums the linen tablecloth with his fingers, quietly considering me.
“Sì,” he agrees, low enough to be heard. “This is why the Zanettis have chosen to stand beside you and offer our support at this time.”
A waiter approaches our table and pours from a bottle labeled Armani into our glasses, respectfully bowing as he backs away. “Sparkling water,signore.”
“Grazie.” I look right at him and nod, then my gaze cuts back to Rocco.
“And in return for your valued support––you would have ours without question.” I cock my head. “Provided the information is accurate, of course.”
“Of course, my friend.” Rocco waves to the waiter across the empty restaurant. “Una bottiglia di Firriato Gaudensius Reserva Vintage, per favore.”
Once the waiter is out of earshot, fetching the bottle of vintage wine, Rocco sits forward and presses his elbows to the table.
“We shall eat before we do business, my friend. Sì?”
Out of respect, I agree and take a sip of water. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m starving.”
He’s the one proposing a beneficial alliance and offering important information. I’d be rude if I didn’t at least offer him my time. Mama taught me better than to show impatience in business situations.
Course after course, we’re presented with meat and fish dishes, prepared by the head chef. While we eat, the conversation naturally flows from family to our network of entry points throughout Europe used for the distribution of drugs and weapons.
“Okay, Rocco.” I dab each corner of my mouth and set the napkin on the table, ready to get what I came for. “I’m sure you can understand the urgent need to deal with my brother's sensitive situation. I’d like to end it as soon as possible, so any intel you can provide would be greatly appreciated.”
Rocco knocks back the last of his wine in one long gulp and takes his time to swallow.
“My father met with a very interesting man a few weeks ago. The eldest son of a well-known Colombian businessman.” He puts the glass down, pushes his seat back, and throws his ankle onto the opposite knee, completely relaxed in his surroundings.
“The guy was a show-off. He wanted to buy my father’s respect before earning it. That…” His pointed finger jabs the air. “…is not how we work. The Zanettis pride themselves on having trusted relationships with our associates. You, my friend, took the time to break bread with me. Signore Lozano, however, was not so dedicated to the old ways. And for that reason alone, my father refused to help him. Apparently, his youngest brother was murdered by the Souzas.”
Fabian Lozano…the kid who had an immature plan to rise up from the Souza ashes. Except he underestimated Giovanni––andIndia.
“Jesus fuck,” I mutter. “They weren’t after André.”
“You appear to have a vermin issue in Italy that won’t go away without a fight. I’d say they’re watching the Souzas very closely. Where your family goes, Lozano’s men will be close. Another hit is imminent,amico mio.”
Rocco dabs his mouth with a napkin. When I shove my chair back and stand, my security guys are quick to respond, as are Rocco’s, who appear from out of nowhere.
“Please excuse me.” I offer him my hand when he rises to match my height, our eyes connecting. “As soon as I have this particular situation under control, I’d like to invite you into our home as a loyal friend. Please let your father know we appreciate his support.”
I’m playing it cool even though my nostrils flare as I breathe deeply and my vision feathers from a dark desire to kill my family's enemies.
His returning handshake is firm and strong.
“Sì. Of course.”
My chest grows tighter, urgency pumping through my veins when I walk away, burst into the daylight, and dig out my phone.
Immediately, I hit speed dial and pace the front of the restaurant waiting for Giovanni to pick up. He doesn't.
Squinting in the sunshine, I take a second to think.
“Fuck!” I growl, climbing into the back of the SUV.
