Romano;
"What the fuck was he talking about, father?" Enraged, Caruso asks our father with darkened eyes.
The dark walls of his study have never felt so claustrophobic. Closed in. So goddamn choking.
The aftermath of the gunfight clings faintly—creased shirts, slightly disheveled hair, faint smudges of dirt and blood that none of us have bothered to clean.
Father's sigh airs out, stiffening the growing tension.
He's nimble on his seat, expression drawn tight as he stares into space.
"Did you not hear what I just asked?" My brother's eyes blaze. Anger rolls off his words.
And I rush to the rescue before things spiral out of control. "Caruso, calm down."
He flicks his attention to me. "What do you mean by fucking calm down?" he grouses. Low. "That Mexican bastard just swooped in and sabotaged our event, and father orders nothing to be done."
"I think he has a plan," I tell him, trying to quell the rage simmering in the rim of his eyes.
"One he doesn't intend to tell us, is it?" He scowls, veering back to look at father.
"What did Fernandez mean about the breach of contract he mentioned?"
Father still doesn't respond. And my nerves spark with every silence that follows.
Crossed-leg, I adjust on the leather sofa, my foot tapping a rhythm on the vinyl floor.
One more sigh cracks the tension, and unease trickles into my bloodstream.
"The property on the East Coast of Palermo." Father starts. "The Rossis and I made a documented deal about it."
Realization settles like acid pumping down my pulse. So that's why he sent me…?
"Why the fuck are you making deals with a Rossi?" Caruso asks with a chillingly low tone.
"That property belongs to Galo," I say before father can respond. Though I doubt he has any intention to.
"It does. And Fernandez wanted it." He gruffs.
"You wanted it too." Caruso pieces it together, his brows narrowing.
"The perfect opportunity came when Romano brought his daughter home." His eyes land on me. "I'd initially suspected Fernandez to be responsible for Galo's missing case."
"And what's the catch now?" Caruso's annoyed tone cuts through.
Father exhales a pent-up breath, his gaze settling on the pen spinning between his fingers. "I promised him a portion of it if he handed something of his over to me."
"This shit's fucked up." My brother lets out a frustrated grumble. His hands in his pockets, yet I can visibly see his fists curled, his jaw ticking with every passing second.
It unnerves me, honestly. My brother doesn't get perturbed.
He's usually the most levelheaded one amongst all the men in the family. Thinking before action. And this version of him…
"We'll have to stay low." Father grounds flatly, snapping my thoughts. As though he'd just given a mere suggestion.
We haven't even talked about the fact that he'd attempted to use me to get what he wants.
I mean, isn't that always it?
Marriage and things like this have always been a gamble. A fucking means to an end.
"Stay low," Caruso scoffs, mouth tipping in that dangerous way of his. "They have one of us."
Yeah. That. As if on cue, Father's eyes cut to me.
The smell of leather and books chokes me with the burn of his unsettling gaze as he leans back. "Fernandez took her so you wouldn't have to go through with the marriage tomorrow, because that's the only way you can have access to those properties."
"That, I know," I mutter, maintaining eye contact.
"The fuck is wrong with you two?" Spitting harshly, Caruso faces me, an eyebrow propped. "You were in on this?"
I clear my throat, which feels like it's stuck with dust. "Not exactly. I'm finding out the reason behind the whole Fernandez thing now too," I tell him, "but for the lands and ownership, that, I know."
I can't fucking lie to my brother—I'd rather hide things.
He smirks at me. Deadly.
"Fernandez Rossi is a sneaky bastard, how do we tackle this…contract you made with him?" Turning my attention to father, I ask.
"Like I said, we lay low."
I swear, my brother is about to detonate like an IED with a wrong circuit. And it gets me thinking.
"Maybe once he realizes that she's not important to us, he'll rethink his decision." Father continues.
"That's your plan?" I ask him, doubt threading through my words because I know who sired me. He doesn't just 'lay low.'
Plus, what he said is false. If Celeste wasn't important to us, we wouldn't have been here, having this meeting in his exclusive study.
Though I know it's mainly because of the benefits of her importance…and not her herself.
One stroke of luck for her.
"What did you request from him?" Eyes deadset and collected, Caruso inquires.
However, father's eyes only glint with a sinister edge. And he doesn't respond.
He dismisses us minutes later, with the excuse that he needs time to process the situation.
He doesn't fool me.
And as I look at Caruso, who's exuding an unnatural calmness as we patrol the hallway, I reckon father doesn't fool him too.
He hasn't told us everything. Only the surface of chaos that's about to brew heavy.
"You're seething," sounding the most uninterested, I tell him while I scroll through a list of ice cream flavors Celeste had mentioned she liked.
"Abducting a woman is one way to start a war in the Cosa Nostra, brother. Even if they're slaves," he deadpans.
A lazy smile ghosts on my mouth. "You're acting like it's your woman that got stolen and not mine."
Caruso directs his gaze at me.
And what I see in his eyes…I've never seen him have that look. Ever.