Chapter 6 - THE MORNING AFTER
The sun rose over the Gallo estate like a guillotine blade.
Gray light cut through the heavy velvet drapes.
Dante stood by the tall window, his back to me.
He hadn't moved in hours.
"The police are handling the death certificate," Dante said without turning.
"Natural causes," I replied.
"Officially, yes."
"And unofficially?"
"Officially is all that matters to the public."
I sat on the edge of a velvet armchair.
The silver key felt heavy in my pocket.
"Your father said the Moretti family is coming for me," I said.
Dante turned around slowly.
His eyes were bloodshot, filled with cold fury.
"Moretti has been waiting for this moment for twenty years."
"Why?"
"Because my father took his territory in Sicily."
"And my grandfather helped him?"
"Your grandfather was the architect," Dante said flatly.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Pietro Rossi, the gentle old man who grew tomatoes on his balcony.
He had been an architect of the mob.
"You're lying," I whispered.
"Look in the box, Nora," Dante said.
"You'll find the blueprints."
A sharp knock broke the silence.
A bodyguard pushed the door open.
"Mr. Gallo. We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Dante snapped.
"The downtown restaurant. It's on fire."
Dante stared at the guard.
Then his gaze snapped back to me.
"They didn't waste any time," Dante muttered.
"They're burning down my life," I said.
"They're sending a message," Dante corrected.
He walked over to his desk and opened a drawer.
He pulled out a heavy 9mm pistol and checked the magazine.
He tossed a second weapon onto the table in front of me.
I stared at the gun.
"I don't know how to shoot," I said.
"Then you better learn fast," Dante said.
"Because you're coming with me."
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"Where?"
"To the bank. Before Moretti gets there first."
