34. Marco

Chapter 34

Marco

I lose myself in the computer. It's a pale, pathetic imitation of the real thing. Laura on the screen is beautiful, she's incredible, her voice sends shivers down my spine, and I could watch her work for hours.

But it's not a substitution for actually touching her.

Another couple days pass. If the world outside ceased to exist, I could be happy. All I'd need is Laura, plus the possibility of seeing her again, and that'd be enough to subsist on. It's not a great existence, but it's good enough.

I'm smitten. I'm stupid in love. It's pathetic, and Valentina would despise me if she really understood how far gone I am, but I can't change how I feel.

Except one thing bothers me. It nags at the back of my mind like a mosquito nibbling at my blood. It's not until I look at the clock on the morning of the sixth day that I realize what's happening, and there's only one person in the whole world that might be able to make sense of it.

Ronan spends most of his time at a pizza place. Which is funny, because he's Irish and not Italian, but everyone in the back of the house is either in his organization or trying to be a part of it. Once, a while back, I asked him why he doesn't open a pub like all the other Irish do, and he just laughed at me. "Fucking pub? A fucking pub ? When I have the most talented pizza chefs in the entire city? You're insane."

Now I find him at a table in the back corner. His Hispanic staff jokes in Spanish, and I know he's half following along as he smiles to himself and taps at his phone screen. He doesn't notice my approach until I'm sitting down in the chair opposite. "You have shitty security."

He looks up, eyebrows raised. "Marco Vitale, in the flesh. You do realize my guys know who you are?"

"They still should stop me."

"We're not all paranoid fucks like you." He puts his phone down and stretches out. "Want something to eat?"

"Nah, I'm good. I just want to talk."

"Sure, let's talk." He barks something in Spanish and one of the guys behind the glass says something about getting right on it back. But my Spanish sucks. "I'm guessing Valentina told you."

I stare at him. I have no fucking clue what he's talking about. "You got anything to say?" I ask, bluffing.

"It's nothing personal. You know we're friends and I'm on your side, but it's just how things are moving, right? Adam's got the plan, and you—" He waves in the air and spreads his fingers, miming a puff of smoke.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. "I'm getting iced out." That's what I felt. I knew it, deep in my bones. The winds shifted, the politics changed, and I'm no longer leading the group.

"I wouldn't put it that way. More like you were replaced. Again, nothing personal." Ronan has the good sense to look genuinely chagrined at least. "I'd rather have you in charge than that big fucking Polish prick, but he's the man with the action plan at the moment."

One of the workers comes over and drops two slices on the table. They're both plain, and Ronan pushes one to me. I stare at it, head working, not really seeing the food. He picks up his slice and takes a bite, chews, watches me.

I'm being replaced. I shouldn't be surprised. It shouldn't bother me. This is probably good for everyone involved—I don't have the best interests of the group at heart anymore. I'm fucking compromised .

It still pisses me off.

"This alliance only exists because I made it happen," I say quietly, ignoring my pizza.

"And we're all so very grateful." Ronan's smirk pisses me off. He doesn't take anything seriously. "Come on, eat. Don't insult me."

"Dusan's in for the plan?"

"Dusan's chomping at the fucking bit."

"And Valentina—" I start but stop at the guilty expression on his face. He doesn't say anything for too fucking long. "It was her idea, wasn't it?"

"She might have made some comments, you know, backchanneled a bit. She didn't question your loyalty," he says quickly, "but just your commitment."

Fuck. God fucking fuck. I should've seen this coming. Valentina got mad and decided I can't be trusted anymore, and now she's steering everyone in her direction. Because to Valentina, revenge against the Biancos for taking away her father and her life is everything, and she knows I don't feel that way anymore.

I don't. I really don't. It's bizarre, but I don't. Ever since Luciano was killed, I've been consumed by thoughts of hurting the Biancos for taking him away, and now those feelings are like a dull pulse. Killing Biancos won't bring him back. Hurting their Famiglia won't save what we lost. Revenge isn't anything but more suffering.

Moving forward is the only option. Laura's my future.

I push back from the table and get to my feet. "When and where?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Come on. Don't act like you don't know."

"Just tell me."

"There's some new art gallery. Adam wants to hit the opening night. He thinks there will be some high-level Biancos in attendance."

My skin crawls. I can see Laura in her mask looking beautiful and light and happy. I can see her body shredded to pieces by gunfire. The screams, the blood splattered across her sculptures. "That's a bad plan," I say and turn away.

"I don't know. Seems smart. Hey, wait a second, don't walk off. Can I have your slice? Marco, come on!"

I ignore him and leave the pizza place.

Valentina's not hard to find. She's at her apartment, a ratty little two-bedroom that I pay for. That I used to pay for. She keeps it nice, even though the building isn't the best, and she stares at me for a long few seconds as I stand in front of her in the hall.

"You should come in, I guess," she says.

But I shake my head. "I was just talking with Ronan."

She doesn't seem ashamed of herself. Good, that's good, at least she's got a spine. "I'm not going to apologize."

"Never dreamed you would. I'm just here to ask for a courtesy."

She laughs, sharp and ugly. "You're going to beg for your girlfriend's life?"

"No, Valentina. I'm going to warn you. That gallery opening is a bad idea."

Silence between us. I don't know how we got to this place, but she's looking at me like I'm slime, and I barely recognize her now. There's an ugly sneer in her eyes.

"You're not going to warn them," she says, crossing her arms. "You wouldn't dare."

"Just don't do this."

"It's not in my hands, you know that. All I did was make sure you couldn't talk anyone out of it." She shakes her head and starts to close the door. "You made your choice already, Marco. Now you have to live with it."

And I'm left in the hallway, seething with anger.