“Beautiful paintings, Riccardo,” he acknowledged.
“My wife, Eva,” he replied and came to stand beside Val. He smelled of cigars and depravity. “She’s always loved art. When she was younger, she painted. The house always smelled of oil paints or acrylics. I learned to know the difference. In those young days, I didn’t know anything about art, but because she loved it so much, I learned.”
Val knew Riccardo Santoro had learned. He’d gotten into the business of ripping off collectors by selling fake originals to them. The copies he sold were so good, many experts couldn’t tell the difference. Naturally, the original would first be stolen from the museum so the illicit collectors would be duped into believing they’d bought the real thing. It was a clever scheme and he’d made a fortune.
Val stepped back and Riccardo closed the door. When Riccardo turned, he was shocked to see Elie Archambault standing beside Dario and Valentino. The crime lord blinked several times, but it was clear to Elie that he didn’t want to acknowledge that he hadn’t seen him walk down the hall with his other two guests. That would make him look weak and he couldn’t afford that.
Valentino simply leaned against the wall, his gaze on Riccardo as if he were a cat watching a mouse. He was a Saldi, perhaps new to the throne, but he’d been raised by Giuseppi to hold on to what he had through sheer brute force if necessary. Though young, he had already made a name for himself, someone to walk very softly around. Valentino and Dario appeared supremely confident by leaving their security force outside the gates. Elie knew that move alone had shaken Riccardo just a bit. Now, with Elie appearing out of nowhere, Riccardo was more than shaken; he was confused.
Elie turned to the others. “Shall we get down to business? We wouldn’t want our men to get nervous.”
Riccardo’s laugh betrayed his tension. He waved them to the chairs in front of his desk. Before either man could sit, Dario took several moments to examine the chairs, then nodded and stepped back without a word. Valentino sank into one and Elie the other. Dario moved back against the wall.
“Did you think I had a bomb under the chairs in my own home?” Riccardo demanded, striving to look as if it was a joke.
“The possibility occurred to us,” Val answered for all three. “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Riccardo. We have evidence that your family, specifically your son Carlo, ordered a hit on Elie, Dario, Elie’s wife and me. Brielle was nearly killed in the last attack on her. To say you stirred up a firestorm is an understatement. Both Elie and Brielle are connected to the Ferraro family. I married into it. Emme, my wife, is demanding justice. You have no idea what that family is capable of. You can order all the hits in the world on them, but I will guarantee, your entire family, every man, woman and child, will be wiped out in a single night. You know their reputation.”
Riccardo listened attentively, his expression sorrowful. “I hear you, Valentino. The situation is dire. I heard what happened to Dino Colombo. Killed in his home with his father and mother and wife right there. No one saw or heard anything. His security was intact. Nothing was caught on camera. The reputation of the Ferraro family is always something we take into consideration and we all strive to avoid any contact with them.”
He sighed, looked down at his hands and then spread his fingers wide before looking up again. “I have an alliance with the Toselli family in Barcelona. My son Carlo is married to Arnau’s daughter, Valeria. I have two grandchildren by them. They live here on the estate with me. My daughter Claudia is married to Arnau’s son Guillem and they also have two children together. They live in Barcelona, where I can’t protect them. Do you see my problem?”
In a gesture very reminiscent of Stefano, Valentino steepled his fingers and he looked over the top of them, one eyebrow raised. “No, Riccardo, I don’t. Are you saying Toselli threatened your daughter and grandchildren? He forced you to do his bidding by trading Elie’s wife and our lives for your daughter and grandchildren?”
Put like that, the head of the Santoro crime family would detest looking weak in front of Val and Dario. For just one moment anger darkened Riccardo’s eyes, a resentment that promised retaliation toward Valentino, but was quickly gone. He had learned to school his features over the years of running his organization. Riccardo’s gaze flicked to Elie, who didn’t change expressions.
“In essence, yes.” Riccardo nodded his head sorrowfully.
“You didn’t think to take this to the council; you just made the decision to order the hit on all of us?” Val’s tone was mild, as if it mattered little that the man he faced had been responsible for the near death of Elie’s wife.