Val nodded. “That’s understandable. You can’t have your men divide their loyalty.”
Riccardo smiled at him. “I’m happy to hear you say that, Valentino. I knew you could be reasonable. These things can be worked out. Had we done so from the beginning, I assure you, this misunderstanding would never have occurred.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “The ‘misunderstanding’ being the hits you put out on Dario and me.”
Riccardo waved that away. “You have to understand the business is no longer what it used to be. We can’t run around carrying guns and threatening people anymore. Everything is very different. Always you want to look good for the press. You can’t ever afford to look as though you’re dirty. You must appear to be a do-gooder. Be into charities. Have your wife be on all the boards for cancer—all the things that will make you look good. Anything to do with children. Sponsor the hell out of that crap. You’re lucky, because you’re getting in on the ground floor. I already had a reputation, but you’re just starting out in the business. You can look clean. Legit.”
Val watched the man come out from behind his desk, animated now that he had an audience. He perched on the end of his desk, facing the windows. “Look at it, Val. It can all belong to you and Dario. Your generation. That’s what I tell my son. Play your cards right. Get in on the ground floor. We’ve got the connections. We’ve got the ships. We already know what we’re doing. Trafficking is a billion-dollar industry. Billions.”
There it was. He was going to offer them a deal. Val had been certain he would. It wouldn’t occur to him, in spite of the war he’d started with Miceli, that Val would never take it. A man like Santoro was certain Valentino wanted the territory.
Riccardo waited for a reaction. Val kept all expression from his face. “I’m listening.”
“We supply to Europe. They supply to us. We just swap the merchandise. The family in Europe has freighters and we have ours. We meet off the coast and off-load the merchandise to smaller freighters to take it to small ports where it’s easy to smuggle it in. We already have the officials in place we need. It’s a smooth operation. No one has come close to suspecting us.”
“Until Brielle Archambault.”
Riccardo waved his hand again. “A mosquito. Easily swatted. She’ll be dead inside of twenty-four hours. We have eyes on her. At this moment, she’s staying at the Ferraro Hotel in Chicago.”
Val regarded him with his dark eyes. “And you believe you can kill her when she’s surrounded by security right under the nose of Stefano Ferraro. Why would you think that?”
Riccardo laughed. “Two reasons. First, because, we’re going to strike a deal and you have your brother-in-law in your pocket. Everyone knows he has one downfall and it’s the women in his family. He’ll do anything for his baby sister. That’s how you got him under your thumb in the first place. And second, we’ve got someone in the Ferraro camp who owes a debt. He doesn’t want his balls cut off and his entire family killed, so he’ll do the job he’s been instructed to do. Either way, she’s dead by morning.”
“What percentage of the business are you prepared to give each of us for your poor judgment in sending your very ineffective teams after us?” Val asked, getting down to it.
“We’ve taken the most risks, set everything up,” Riccardo pointed out, hedging. “You’d both be coming in after we’ve smoothed the way.”
“After you put out hits on both of us,” Val reminded. “And you’re clearly expecting me to share Stefano Ferraro with you, or at the very least, keep him on a leash when he wants to rip out your heart for murdering his little darling Brielle, which he will.”
“And her asshole husband, Elie,” Riccardo added.
“That’s going to cost you, Riccardo,” Valentino said. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through to bring home the Ferraro prize and keep it. I’m not going to hand that one over easily, especially to a man who put my name on a hit list. You come up with a proposal. A good one. I want to see that you can deliver what you promise. I see Brielle Archambault is dead in the morning, and I like your deal, we’re in. If not, my brother-in-law is going to come calling.”
He stood, this time making it clear he was leaving and nothing Riccardo had to say was going to deter him. Dario waited until Santoro opened the door politely for Valentino before he moved to cover Val’s back. In the hallway, shadows zigzagged up and down, thrown by the various lights illuminating the art hanging in what was for all intents and purposes—a gallery.