Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MATTEO

" D id Bella seem okay to you?" Sofia asks as I drive, doing my best to hide how pissed I am.

Elio called to let me know one of the Gallo enforcers was pleading his case, telling our men he was only working with Orlando because he'd threatened his family. In hindsight, I may have gone in a bit hard, but I'm sick and damn tired of being questioned by my brother. Elio knows that if we don't do nasty, immoral shit, then we're basically sacrificing the whole city.

"Matty?"

"I don't know," I say, my body stirring as the video pulses into my mind. Those shorts. Those tits. Most of all, her passion . "I didn't talk to her much."

"Yeah," Sofia mutters. "I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking it."

I stare at the road. It's clear Sofia wants me to ask her some follow-up questions, but that would mess with my decisive plan to ignore thinking about Bella by any means necessary. I can't have a crush, romantic interest, attraction, or anything. Whatever this is, it's dead, at least until the Gallo crap is well and truly over.

What about after? Do I think I'll be able to let myself go then? As Don of the Family, there's always going to be something stopping me.

"What were you talking about on the phone?" Sofia asks.

"Why?"

"The door was open. Maybe Bella heard you."

I flinch at the thought. The idea that she heard all that stuff pisses me off. I shouldn't care, but truthfully, I don't want her thinking of me like that. I'd rather be the people we are when we text.

"Nothing," I grunt.

"Liar," Sofia mutters, folding her arms.

I grind my teeth, ignoring the jab. "You know the rules, Sofia. The less you know, the better."

"So it was Mafia stuff, then."

"She didn't hear."

"How do you know that?"

"Damn it, what does it matter?" I growl. "Even if she did, do you think she'd question it? Do you have any idea how much we're paying her? I could beat a man to death in front of her, and she'd still take the cash. That's what I am, Sofia. When it comes to regular people, I don't earn their respect." I squeeze the steering wheel so hard I almost just want to tear it loose. "That's for my men. With regular folks, I have to make them afraid or pay them, and it works every goddamn time."

Sofia stares out the window, ignoring me. I know I've gone too far. I'm on edge, far too close to my emotions, and far too aggressive, which is another reason I should avoid Bella. If thinking about her learning the truth makes me act like this, I need to quit her now.

After a few minutes, Sofia takes out her phone. My body stirs when I hear Bella's voice. "Hey, Bella baes, today we're going to be playing …" I do my best to tune out the voice, but at a red light, I glance over. I assumed the video would be the same one she sent me, but it's not. In this one—the public video—Bella is wearing jeans and a hoodie.

Does that mean she recorded that other one in the hot-as-hell outfit just for me? My mind flits to her choosing the outfit, maybe with a pout on her lips as she stripped off the hoodie, perhaps even purposefully taking off her bra, knowing I couldn't resist staring at and obsessing over her body.

"When can I book my next lesson?" Sofia asks.

"Whenever you want," I reply, "but depending on how busy I am, Elio or somebody else will take you."

"I can go on my own, you know."

I look at her, and that's all she needs. She sighs.

"I thought all that stuff was over."

That stuff means the Gallo war. She never learned the specifics but understands what she needs to, so she's not surprised if something happens.

"You're safe," I tell her. "Always, Sofia. Never forget that."

"I'd rather be normal than safe."

"There was never any chance of us being normal," I tell her. "When you're born into the Family, any notion of being a regular person dies. It's better just to accept that."

"What a lovely, optimistic way to look at things."

"It's the truth. I don't have space for optimism."

"You really are in a mood, aren't you?"

Reaching over, I gently touch her hand. Bella has just begun to play the musical piece in the video. It's not as wild and passionate as the video she sent me. Was I the one who brought that out in her?

"I'm going to text her and book another session for tomorrow," Sofia goes on when I don't reply.

"Okay."

"Please don't bring the Mafia stuff into this, Matty. Please."

I sigh. "Next time I take a call, I'll go into the stairwell, okay?"

"Thank you. Really." She pauses, then her tone gets just a bit playful. "Any chance of a smile?"

As we pull up at another red light, I turn to her, baring my teeth like a wild animal. "How's that?" I say, keeping the rictus fixed in place.

She giggles. " Much better."

"What the fuck is this?" I growl as I walk into the basement of one of our clubs.

We have a police-style interview room set up down here, soundproofed with one-way glass. Elio stands behind the glass, hands in his pockets. I walk up next to him and look at the man handcuffed to the table. He's sipping out of a paper cup and looks suspiciously unharmed.

When Elio looks at me, I can tell immediately he's ready to take a stand. Years of operating with my brother have taught me that.

"We can't beat, maim, and mutilate our way out of everything."

"We can't?" I snarl.

"Just listen, bro. Fucking hell."

It's just the two of us, so he's free to speak to me like this.

I stuff my hands in my pockets. "I'm listening."

Elio runs a hand through his wild hair. "I had two of our men pick him up, dressed as cops. They put a bag over his head and brought him here. As far as he knows, he's waiting for the investigating officer. He was whining about his family and threats. Why don't we use this to our advantage? Wouldn't it be better to have an inside man than just another corpse?"

When I don't reply, Elio steps forward, staring at me. "As your consigliere, it's my job to tell you when you've lost perspective."

A petty piece of me is tempted to tell him to go to hell, but he's right. Whether or not I want to admit it, he is. "Hmm …"

"I'm telling you now," he says. "We can't play this just with violence. I know you're pissed. I know you thought it was over." He pauses, his voice getting husky with emotion. "I know we both made a promise to our old man. After Mom passed, he was never the same, was he? The city became his love; the Family became his only purpose. We both want to keep that promise. Believe me."

"I do," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. "After all the work he put in and the sacrifices he made, he deserves that."

"So listen, then. Please."

Elio DeLuca wouldn't say please to any other man. Even if he needed to and it would be the best thing to do, our position as Don and consigliere would make it impossible. Yet, with each other, we can be honest.

"I'm listening."

"We're going to turn this asshole," Elio says. "We'll use him to get our hands on Orlando." Elio's tone grows savage. "Then you won't have to convince me to get bloody and cruel. I'll take care of it myself."

"Who's going to play the detectives?" I ask.

He names two of our middle-ranking men. "We'll brief them on what to say," he continues, "but I thought it'd be better if we didn't do it. He might recognize us or Vito, Marco, Salvatore, Enzo …"

"You're right." I take a breath, calming myself down. "Okay. Let's do this."