16. Angelo

16

ANGELO

Y ou could hear a fucking pin drop in this room.

I lean forward, my eyes locked on Don Ricci across the table. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. This negotiation could make or break our operations in Queens for the next decade.

“With all due respect, Don Ricci,” I say, my voice smooth but edged with steel, “your proposal is unacceptable. We both know the docks are worth twice what you’re offering.”

I see Ricci’s face flush with anger, but before he can retort, my phone begins to vibrate in my pocket. Without breaking eye contact, I silently switch it off. Whatever it is, it can wait.

“Now,” I continue, “let’s discuss a deal that’s actually worth both our time.”

For the next hour, I masterfully maneuver the negotiation, my quick wit and unwavering resolve gradually wearing down Ricci’s resistance. By the time we shake hands, the Pirelli family has secured not only the docks but also a lucrative slice of Ricci’s gambling operations.

As Ricci and his men file out, Jimbo claps me on the back. “Masterful, Angelo. You had him eating out of your hand by the end.”

I allow myself a small smile of satisfaction before reaching for my phone. Now to see who was trying to interrupt me.

My blood runs cold as I see twenty missed calls from Fee.

“Fuck,” I mutter, immediately dialing her back.

Fee answers immediately, and her hysterical voice comes through the speaker, loud enough for Jimbo to hear. “Angelo! Oh, God, Angelo, it’s Zip. We’re at the hospital.”

My grip on the chair tightens, knuckles turning white. My mind races to the worst conclusion—Zip’s dead. But then Fee’s next words cut through my panic.

“He’s alive, but he was attacked. It’s bad, Angelo. We need you.”

“I’m on my way,” I say, already on my feet. “Which hospital?”

As Fee gives me the details, Jimbo is already on the phone to Marco, instructing him to bring the car around.

“What happened?” Jimbo asks as we rush to the elevator.

“Zip’s been attacked,” I growl, my earlier triumph forgotten in the face of this new crisis. “Someone’s going to pay for this.”

In the car, my mind whirs with possibilities. It was either Gino or Jonah. Those are the only two people who have an issue with the Saldanos.

But one thing’s for certain—whoever did this will pay .

As Marco weaves through traffic, I make a series of rapid-fire calls. To my security team, ordering increased protection for Fee, Lou, and now Zip. To my contacts in the police department, demanding priority on the investigation.

By the time we screech to a halt outside the hospital, I’ve set in motion a machine that will leave no stone unturned in finding Zip’s attacker.

Jimbo manages to sweet-talk the front desk into giving us Zip’s room number, and it doesn’t take long before we’re headed upstairs. Once we’re on the right floor, I spot Fee pacing outside a room.

“Sofia,” I breathe.

Her head snaps up, and when she sees me, her face crumples and she throws herself into my arms, sobbing. I hold her close, breathing in her familiar scent, trying to offer what comfort I can.

“What did the doctors say?” I ask gently, stroking her hair.

Fee hiccups, her words coming out in a rush between sobs. “They said… they said he has a severe concussion and… and some broken ribs. But… but no internal bleeding. They’re… they’re keeping him for observation.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. The old guy is tough, but he’s going to need a lot of time to recover.

We enter the hospital room, and the sight of Zip lying unconscious in the bed hits me hard. He looks so frail, his face pale against the stark white sheets. Tubes and wires connect him to various machines that beep steadily, monitoring his vital signs.

My eyes land on Lou, huddled in a chair in the corner. Her face is blank, eyes staring off into nothing. The usual spark in her is gone, replaced by a sullenness that doesn’t suit her.

“Lou found Zip,” Fee tells me softly, wiping her eyes. “He was by the back office.”

Jimbo clears his throat. “I’m gonna get us all some coffee,” he says, ducking out of the room.

Fucking bastard. He’s always hated hospitals and anything resembling emotions.

I move to sit next to Lou, keeping my voice gentle. “Hey, Louisville. How are you feeling?”

Lou’s head snaps toward me, her eyes flashing with anger. “I’m NOT feeling great,” she snaps. “Today has been horrible. Why does everyone want to hurt our family?”

I nod, understanding her frustration and fear. “I get it, Lou. It’s been a tough day.”

She turns away, her small frame rigid with tension. I watch her for a moment, my heart aching for this little girl who’s had to face so much in such a short time.

“Hey,” I say softly, “how about we go get a snack from the vending machine? Might make you feel a little better.”

Lou hesitates but shakes her head. “No.”

“C’mon, Lou,” Fee says as she crouches down in front of her daughter and tries to reassuringly pat her hand. Lou yanks her hand away.

“No. I don’t want to,” she says sullenly.

“I’ll let you have whatever you want,” I say to Lou. “Whatever your favorite snack or candy is.”

Lou scowls at me. “I. Said. No .”

“Lucille Saldano,” Fee says sharply, and even Lou looks up at her in surprise. “I have not raised you to be rude. Angelo is nicely asking if you would like a treat from the vending machine. The answer I am expecting out of you is ‘yes, thank you .’ Am I understood?”

Lou glares at her mother but unfolds her body from the chair and gets down. “Fine,” she grits out and marches out of the room.

Jesus Christ, help me.

We walk down the hospital corridor, the harsh fluorescent lights casting a sickly glow on the pale green walls. The air is thick with the smell of disinfectant, barely masking the underlying scents of sickness and worry. Nurses hurry past, their shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum floor, while the steady beep of machines echoes from nearby rooms.

“I hate hospitals,” I mutter, more to myself than to Lou.

She glances up at me, her blue eyes sharp. “Is it because you’ve put a lot of people in here?”

Jesus Christ , I wasn’t expecting that .

I choke, stopping in my tracks. Lou crosses her arms, fixing me with a look that’s far too knowing for her nine years. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“No, kid. That’s not it,” I say, deciding on honesty. “Last time I was in a hospital, I was too late to save my dad.”

Lou grows quiet, her eyes softening slightly. She clearly wasn’t expecting that. “What happened to him?”

I hesitate, but something in her gaze tells me she can handle the truth. “His car was blown up. The explosion punctured his kidney. I… I didn’t make it in time to give him mine.”

She doesn’t need to know how often I dream about this.

Lou’s face remains expressionless, but her voice is soft when she asks, “Was he a good guy? Your dad?”

Memories of my father suddenly assault me—his smile, his booming laugh, his ability to be the greatest Don I’ve ever seen—and I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah, he was the best.”

“Must be nice,” Lou says, her voice suddenly bitter. “My dad sucks. He tried to kidnap me.”

Before I can respond, she’s walking away again, leaving me feeling like I’ve just been fucking hit by an emotional freight train. This kid, with her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, keeps me constantly off-balance.

I look up at the ceiling, as if it’ll have the answers I need. I am completely out of my depth with this kid.

Lou is nearly at the vending machine, and I hurry after her. By the time I get there, she’s glaring at the selection, her small face scrunched in frustration.

“All this candy sucks,” she mutters.

I pull out my wallet, trying to keep my voice light. “Come on, there’s gotta be something in here you’d like. Do you like chocolate? They got Reese’s in here and everyone loves that?—”

Lou whirls on me, her eyes flashing with anger. “No! I hate all the candy in here. I hate you too! Just leave me alone !”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I’m taken aback, reminding myself that she’s just a traumatized kid. But despite my best efforts, I feel my own irritation rising to the surface.

“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. “Next time, I’ll just let you stare at the machines in silence.”

Lou seems startled by my response, but she quickly squares her shoulders, glaring up at me. “Everything was fine until you showed up at Perfezione,” she spits out. “Ever since you came into our lives, bad stuff keeps happening!”

What the fuck? Is she seriously blaming me? The fuck did I do? If anything, her beef should be with Gino fucking Timpone as he’s the one who started all this shit.

Suddenly, understanding washes over me. This isn’t really about me or the candy. Lou is scared, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened. And I’m the safest target for her anger—the newest addition to her life, someone she can lash out at without fear of losing them.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “Lou,” I say, my voice gentler now, “I know you’re scared. A lot of scary things have happened today. But I promise you, I’m not the cause of these bad things. I’m here to help protect you and your mom.”

Lou’s eyes narrow, disbelief etched across her face. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you protect Zip? Why didn’t you stop Jonah? Or Gino?” She pauses, then delivers the final blow. “You couldn’t even protect your own father.”

Fucking ouch.

I see red, my hands clenching into fists at my sides, and it takes everything in me to not smack the shit out of her right then and there. I remind myself over and over that she’s just a kid, but the words still sting.

“Lou,” I say, my voice stern, “I told you about my father because I wanted to be honest with you about why I hate hospitals. That does not give you the right to use his death against me. That’s fucking bullshit.”

Lou’s lower lip trembles, but she stands her ground, glaring up at me defiantly.

I take another deep breath. “I’m sorry about what happened to Zip. I’m doing my damn best to stop Jonah and Gino. But I can’t be everywhere at once.”

Suddenly, Lou’s tough fa?ade crumbles. Tears well up in her eyes. “I’m just so scared,” she whispers.

Her vulnerability catches me off guard. Jesus, what do I do know? What do kids even want when they’re upset?

“Do you… do you want a hug?” I offer hesitantly.

Lou nods, then throws herself into my arms, her small body shaking with sobs.

“I’m so mad,” she hiccups into my shirt. “All the time.”

I stroke her hair gently. “I get it, kid. Anger’s a tough thing to deal with. You know what helps me?”

She looks up at me, curious despite her tears. “What?”

“Deep breaths,” I say. “And counting to ten. Sometimes, when I’m really mad, I picture putting all that anger into a balloon and letting it float away.”

Lou considers this, biting her lower lip as she thinks it through. “Does it work?”

I nod. “Most of the time. It takes practice, though.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then whispers, “I’m sorry, Angelo. I don’t really hate you.”

“I know, kid,” I say softly. “I know.”

The weight of the day’s events hang heavily on all our shoulders as we get back to my house in the evening. As Lou trudges upstairs to her room, I turn to Fee, noting the exhaustion etched on her face.

“You okay?” I ask softly, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

Fee leans into me, sighing deeply. “I don’t know, Angelo. This is all just… it’s too much.”

We move to the living room, and I can’t help but clench my fists as I think about Zip’s confirmation after he woke up during the mid-afternoon. He confirmed that Gino personally attacked him. “Gino’s gone too far this time,” I growl.

Fee looks up at me, worry clouding her eyes. “What are we going to do?”

I run a hand through my hair, my mind racing. “There’s something deeper going on here. This isn’t just about Gino hating what you represent. We need to talk to your mother about Antoni and the arrangement between Perfezione and the Timpones.”

Fee stiffens in my arms. “I don’t know, Angelo. My mother and I… it’s complicated.”

“I know,” I say gently, kissing her gently on her brow. “But we need answers. This might be our best shot at understanding what’s really going on.”

Fee hesitates, then sighs in resignation. “Okay. I’ll call her.”

I watch as she makes the call, noting the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes. The conversation is brief, and when Fee hangs up, her face is a mask of irritation.

“Well?” I prompt.

“She agreed to meet us tomorrow. At her house,” Fee says, her voice laced with reluctance.

I nod, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “Good. That’s a start.”

The next morning, Fee arranges for Shawn to take Lou to school. Lou didn’t want to go, but Fee overruled her. Once Lou is safely with Shawn, we head out to Staten Island.

Marco eases the car onto the Staten Island Ferry, the Manhattan skyline slowly receding behind us. I glance at Fee, noticing how she fidgets in her seat, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

I reach over, lacing our fingers together. “What’s bothering you?”

Fee hesitates, her eyes fixed on the water outside. “It’s… it’s my mother,” she finally says. “There’s something you should know before we get there.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

She takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “My mother was married to a very rich doctor—Dr. Dexter Schultz. They divorced a few years ago.”

“Dexter Schultz?” I interrupt, surprised. “The famous plastic surgeon?”

Fee nods. “That’s the one. She got an excellent divorce settlement. Now she lives… well, you’ll see.”

I’m confused by her cryptic response, but I don’t push. As we drive off the ferry and through Staten Island’s winding roads, I notice the houses getting larger, more ostentatious.

Finally, Marco turns into a gated driveway, and my jaw drops. The house—no, mansion—before us is nothing short of spectacular. It’s a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa, all white stucco and terracotta roof tiles. Manicured gardens surround it, complete with fountains and what looks like a tennis court peeking out from behind.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “This is where your mother lives?”

Fee nods, her face a mixture of embarrassment and something else—resentment, maybe? “Welcome to Casa Cher,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

As we pull up to the grand entrance, I’m struck by the stark contrast between this opulent mansion and the modest apartment above Perfezione where Fee raised Lou. It speaks volumes about the kind of person Cher must be, and I find myself bristling on Fee’s behalf.

Keep calm. You can’t go off on Cher right now. Not yet.

We head to the massive double doors and ring the doorbell. We only have to wait a few moments before a man in a suit and tie opens the door and looks at us like we’re dirt under his shoe.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“We’re here to meet with Mrs. Schultz,” Fee says, slipping into her customer service voice. “She’s expecting us. I’m her daughter, Sofia Saldano.”

The butler, his face a mask of bored indifference, leads us into a sitting room that could easily fit Fee’s entire apartment. Crystal chandeliers hang from ornate ceilings, and priceless artwork adorns the walls.

Cher saunters in moments later, clad in head to toe designer clothes, her face a picture of feigned surprise. “Sofia, darling! And… Don Pirelli. What a surprise.”

She completely ignores Marco, her eyes skimming past him as if he doesn’t exist.

“How’s Dad doing?” she asks, her tone more conversational than concerned.

I feel Fee stiffen beside me, her body tight with tension. “He’s recovering,” she says curtly.

Cher nods absently. “Well, what brings you all the way to Staten Island? I’m terribly busy, you know. I have several important ladies’ meetings today.”

Something in me snaps. “Ladies’ meetings?” I snarl. “Your father’s in the hospital, your daughter and granddaughter are living in near poverty, and you’re worried about ladies’ meetings ?”

Cher’s eyes widen, clearly not used to being spoken to this way. “I beg your pardon?—”

“No,” I cut her off. “Do you even know that the Timpone family is trying to force Fee and Zip to give up Perfezione? That Gino Timpone wants 4.9 million dollars from Fee?”

Cher shrugs, her face a mask of indifference. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

I ignore Fee’s warning look, my anger boiling over. “It’s your problem because it’s your family. Why won’t you give Sofia the money to buy Perfezione? You clearly have more than enough.”

Cher’s face hardens. “That place?” she spits. “I hate Perfezione. I refuse to have anything to do with it.”

“Even if it means your daughter and granddaughter end up on the street?” I ask incredulously.

Cher’s eyes narrow. “Sofia made her choices. She chose that shop over a real career, over a real life when she spread her legs and got herself pregnant. I won’t enable her foolishness."

Is she fucking serious ?

I feel Fee’s hand on my arm, trying to calm me, but I’m too far gone. “Foolishness? Spreading her legs? She was fifteen fucking years old. She was sexually assaulted . She’s raising your granddaughter . She’s fucking keeping your father’s legacy alive. That’s foolishness to you?”

Cher waves a dismissive hand. “You wouldn’t understand. Now, if there’s nothing else, I really must prepare for my meetings.”

As she turns to leave, I call out, “We need to know about the arrangement between Antoni Timpone and Perfezione. It’s not just a gentlemen’s agreement between Antoni and Zip. What aren’t you telling us?”

Cher freezes, her back to us. For a moment, the room is silent, the only sound that of Fee’s unsteady breathing. Then, slowly, she turns back, her face unreadable. “You really want to open that can of worms, Angelo Pirelli? Trust me, some secrets are better left buried.”

No. Fuck this. She’s not going to get away with giving me that bullshit excuse. I stand to my full height, my presence filling the room. My voice drops low, a dangerous edge to it that I usually reserve for rival families and traitors.

“Sit down, Cher,” I command, my eyes never leaving hers. “This secret is coming out, one way or another. The easy way is you tell us now. The hard way… well, let’s just say you don’t want to find out what that entails.”

Cher’s eyes widen, a flicker of fear crossing her face. She sinks into a nearby chair, her bravado crumbling.

“Fine,” she spits out, glaring at me. “You want the truth? Here it is.”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes darting between Fee and me. “Antoni Timpone and I had a wild, passionate affair for years. He loved me and I loved him. But Antoni became too dark, too powerful. I fell in love with someone else. David Bingham.”

Fee looks puzzled. “Who is that?”

Cher closes her eyes, looking pained. “Your father.”

I hear Fee’s sharp intake of breath beside me. “My father?” she whispers.

Cher nods, her face a mask of pain and regret. “Antoni’s jealousy and temper… they were legendary. When I walked away from him for good, he lashed out. One night, he… he killed David in a jealous rage.”

The room falls silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air.

“He’s been paying me ever since to keep quiet about the murder,” Cher continues, her voice hollow. “That included paying for Perfezione. We let everyone believe it was out of the kindness of his heart, but really… it was blood money.”

I feel Fee trembling beside me, and I instinctively wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“And now?” I prompt, my voice hard.

Cher shrugs helplessly. “Now, Antoni’s dead. I can’t hold that over Gino. He doesn’t care about his father’s sins.”

I process this information, my mind racing. “So Gino’s not just after Perfezione because of what it represents. He’s trying to erase all evidence of his father’s guilt.”

Cher nods, her lower lip trembling as she folds her shaking hands into her lap. “Exactly. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”