Page 82 of Brutal Secrets
“Did it work, Dante?” Danni says. “Was he scared? Is he moving back home?” She rubs her hands together gleefully. Behind her, my daughter looks sheepish and a little frightened.
“Sorry, Dad,” she says in a small voice. “I only wanted to see you.”
Next to me, Sasha bites back a snort of laughter.
“Girls, I’m sure that Nadia’s father will be happy to take her back to her mother when we’ve finished our discussions,” Dante says. “Work on your video or finish whatever you’re doing, and we’ll call you when it’s time to go.”
“Aww,” Danni groans. “Can’t Nadia stay for a sleepover?”
“Not tonight, Danni. I think you’ll have to clear it with her mom, and after this stunt, she might not be too favorably disposed toward you. Imagine if you’d really gone missing in Manhattan and I hadn’t overheard your crackpot scheme. You’d likely be in trouble with more than Nadia’s parents.”
“But Dante,” she whines.
The older boy holds up a hand and stops her next sentence. “Don’t ‘but Dante’ me. If you pulled a stunt like this and our father found out, your life wouldn’t be worth living.”
Danni’s shoulders hunch when her brother mentions the don, and she nods, edging toward the door.
“Go upstairs, Nadia,” I say. “We’ll see you soon.” I don’t want her in this room until I know what’s going on.
She swallows whatever she was about to say, spinning on her heel to follow her friend. All of us listen to the footsteps pounding up the spiral staircase in the hallway as Dante pours three tumblers of cognac and slides two across the table.
“Nadia is free to leave when you do, but I wanted to discuss an alliance.” He looks between Sasha and me as he tries to work out which one of us makes the decisions.
Sasha picks up his cognac and swirls it around the glass, regarding the young Italian over the rim. “And what exactly would this alliance involve?”
Dante puts his glass on the leather-covered desk without taking a sip. “I want you to help me kill my father.” He stares at both of us, leaning back in the chair and clasping his hands over his midriff. He’s trying to look relaxed, but his knuckles are white.
“Patricide. That’s a bold move.” Sasha takes a sip of his cognac and mirrors Dante’s posture.
“I know you’ve got my sister. Alessandra. My father sent her to that brothel because he wanted her to think there are worse fates than marrying the Night Governor.” He taps a pen against the desk and looks from me to Sasha, the question written clearly in his dark eyes. “But I’m not so sure. Yevgeny Guelman makes my skin crawl.”
Sasha leans forward. “The Night Governor breaks women. My sister...” He looks up at the bookshelves, no doubt thinking of the Night Governor’s study. “She didn’t survive Moscow. How much of that was Guelman’s doing, I’ll never know, but if I were you, then I’d be glad we picked her up.”
“What are you planning to do with my sister? I understand that neither my older sister Alessandra nor I were ever going to choose our own partners, but a man like the Night Governor is a bad match. She’d never be a partner, just a plaything.”
He stands and starts to pace around the desk, finally taking a sip of his drink, so I take a sip of mine and watch him as he runs his hands along the books before pulling out a copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince.
“My older sister is clever. If it was played right, she would be an asset. A queen. Not just a pawn.” He pauses, fingering the pages. “It’s a sign that he’s losing his edge, and it’s an opportunity for me.”
He’s a boy. But I’ve got to admire his nerve.
Sasha looks over at me and we share an unspoken understanding. This is an opening for us too.
“What are you proposing?” Sasha takes a slow sip of his cognac.
“Alessandra marries into the Russian Mafia, which will strengthen my hand,” Dante says. “We work together on the recycling business and beef up our legitimate operations. And most importantly, we get rid of my father.”
“Why are you so keen to get rid of your father?” I ask. “Surely you’re next in line to succeed him, so you would do better to wait until you’re a bit older.” I can’t imagine this boy could control New York’s Italian Mafia, even with our help.
Dante sinks into the chair, putting the half-drunk glass of cognac down beside him. “There won’t be much left of our operation if I wait. The old man is losing his grip. He was never loved, but in the last few years, he’s become volatile, vindictive. He commands very little loyalty among the men. This deal with the Night Governor speaks of desperation. It will strengthen my father in the short-term but weaken us. The Night Governor never had alliances before. He won’t start now.”
Sasha and I exchange a brief look and then turn back to look at the Italian boy. The Night Governor has always worked alone, and this kid has read Guelman better than his father, which is impressive, but working with him will be a gamble. He’s pacing behind the desk and talking as if he’s thinking through the problem out loud.
“You get rid of my father, and I owe you. We work together, and I come out of this stronger. We’d be in a position to control New York.” He places his palms on the desk and leans over, looking at Sasha and me as if he expects an immediate answer.
He’s clever and bold, but he’s got a lot to learn. He grins at me like faking a kidnap attempt is a big joke, but his smile drops as I pull out a gun and point it at him.
“I’m not going to shoot you now,” I say. “Not with my daughter and her friend in the house, but you and I are going to have words about this. You can’t threaten people’s children and think there won’t be consequences.”