Page 13 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“You what?—?”
I cut him off. “We can’t not show up. Won’t Don Beneventi take offense to your daughter getting married in the same week? He is the new capo di tutti capi, and you know how old-fashioned the famiglie are.”
“You think we give two fucks about offending the man who murdered my father?” Settemo erupts, breaking his silence. “My uncle isn’t waiting on anyone to break in some virgin pussy.” His words are shocking, but the undercurrent within his tone sets me on edge. Settemois totally emo. A dangerous psycho to be avoided at all costs.
He steps toward me, but I hold steady. A man like him can smell fear. “You’ll be headed down the aisle in two weeks if I have to drag you screaming through the church.”
“But my father’s walking me down the aisle.”
Everyone stills.
Emo eyes me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
My father hurriedly cuts in, trying to salvage the situation. Three million in debt, and Lord knows how much more by the time Carlo is done with him, spurring him on. “She’ll be too sick to travel to Rhode Island.”
No. No. No. I need my wedding delayed. Extra time to plan and scrape enough money together to disappear and not be found.
Ever.
Do I want to attend the Beneventi wedding? The last person I ever want to see again is Lorenzo Beneventi. If he followed through on his damn promise instead of dishing out excuses, I wouldn’t be stuck in Carlo’s Chicago office, fending off three wolves like a rabbit trapped intheir den.
I hate Renzo with a passion and would do anything to avoid that wedding.
Exceptmarry Carlo.
My father speaks. “I’ll send word to Sebastiano?—”
Carlo interrupts him. “The reception’s at his Rhode Island estate?”
“Yes.”
Oddly, Carlo seems pleased.
“Perfect. While in attendance, you’ll do me a favor. You do this, and I’ll clear the additional debt.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“Search his estate for signs of any weakness within his security. And I don’t need to tell you to be discreet about it.”
My father can’t be that stupid. The reason the Twelve is now the Eleven is because Sebastiano Beneventi took a chain saw to a capo who crossed him.
“Deal,” I hear him say. “If we add this arrangement to the paperwork.”
Carlo stares him down. “Paperwork’s signed already.”
“And the wedding?” I ask.
“Postponed to the end of the month.”
Relief washes over me. I did it. I’ve bought myself time. “Mind if I use the restroom?” I hurriedly say, struggling not to give my joy away.
Carlo flicks his fingers toward his man. “Show her to the guest bathroom. Your father will be waiting by the elevator.”
With that, we’re dismissed.
Seconds later, I enter the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and sink to the floor, overcome by relief. I bought myself time. Now I need money. A lot of it. But how?
My father drained the trust my mother had set up for me. His name isn’t on the account, but the bank is in Los Angeles, his territory.
