Chapter 3
Cesare Bellandi had spent seven years pretending he wanted peace.
Apparently he'd only wanted distance.
There was a difference.
I remembered the last time I saw him.
My father's seventy-second birthday.
Cesare had hugged August.
Kissed Vanessa's cheek.
Told Julian he was proud of him.
Then he'd looked at me and said something I didn't understand at the time.
“Some chairs fit people better than others.”
I thought it was bitterness.
Maybe it was a promise.
“Where is he?” I asked.
August shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“How does Vanessa have his whistle?”
“He gave it to her.”
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“No.”
August's hand tightened around the blanket.
“He came to the hunting house.”
I felt the anger arrive slowly.
That's always when mine is most dangerous.
“What did he want?”
“The same thing Julian wanted.”
“You to turn the old capos against me.”
“Yes.”
“And you refused.”
August almost looked offended.
“Of course I refused.”
I leaned back.
Something still bothered me.
“If all they needed was your voice, why bring you here?”
My father looked toward Mason.
“They were running out of time.”
“For what?”
He didn't answer.
Mason did.
“Grandpa had visitors.”
We both looked at him.
August frowned.
“What?”
Mason pointed toward the service-room door down the corridor.
“I heard people.”
“When?”
“Before Vanessa hit me.”
I crouched beside him.
“How many?”
He considered it seriously.
Children count differently.
“Lots.”
“Men?”
He nodded.
“What did they say?”
Mason looked embarrassed.
“I don't know.”
“It's okay.”
He thought again.
“One man said tonight.”
My father's face changed.
I noticed.
“What?”
August looked toward the windows.
“What time is it?”
“Six forty.”
The pool reception was supposed to become dinner at seven.
At eight, the senior capos were scheduled to gather privately in the west house for our annual summer meeting.
August looked directly at me.
“That.”
“What?”
“The west house.”
I remembered his warning when I found him.
Don't let them reach the west house.
“What happens there?”
“They wanted all your senior men in one room.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Why?”
August didn't know.
But somebody did.
Julian and Vanessa were being held separately.
I went to Vanessa first.
She sat in one of the small sitting rooms between two guards.
Her cheek was red.
Her gown was dirty.
But the arrogance was still intact.
I placed Cesare's silver whistle on the table.
Her eyes went to it.
One second.
Enough.
“When did you last see my uncle?”
She smiled.
“You hit me in front of half the family and now you want conversation?”
“You pushed my son into a pool.”
“He was snooping.”
“He's three.”
“He heard something he shouldn't have.”
There it was.
Not denial.
Admission.
I sat opposite her.
“What happens at eight?”
Her smile disappeared.
I leaned forward.
“What happens in the west house?”
Nothing.
So I changed the question.
“Why did you keep August alive?”
Her jaw tightened.
“You already know.”
“No.”
I studied her.
“You didn't need him alive for seventy-eight days just to hear him refuse you.”
Still nothing.
“You needed something from him.”
Her eyes shifted toward the door.
Not escape.
Expectation.
I realized it.
“You're waiting for someone.”
Her face went blank.
I stood.
The door opened behind me.
A bodyguard entered quickly.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“One of the east gate cameras just went dark.”
Vanessa smiled.
Very slowly.
I looked at her.
“Who's coming?”
May you like
She finally answered.
“Your family.”
