Page 5 of From Italy With Love

Kelley drummed his fingers on the desk, the rhythm echoing off the paneled walls. His other hand stayed close to that drawer, and I wondered if he ever truly relaxed. Short sentences, sharp exchanges—the power play never stopped. In this room, every word was a move, every gesture a test, and the air was thick with the possibility that the deal could turn violent in a heartbeat.

“I need to talk to Braesal,” Kelley said.

“Of course.”

“And I’m not making any promises. He might tell me to go fuck myself.”

“That’s between you and your brother-in-law.”

“Two weeks,” Kelley said. “I’ll have an answer in two weeks.”

“That’s acceptable.”

We sat in silence so thick it pressed into my chest. Each second stretched, weighted down by what wasn’t said. Threats coiled beneath calm faces, calculations shifting with every glance. I could feel my pulse thrumming in my temples, my palms damp against the arms of the chair. One wrong word and everything would erupt. I lived on this knife’s edge, where business and bloodshed were separated by a breath and a heartbeat.

Kelley broke the silence, his voice rough, laced with a Bronx rasp. “Do you want to know what I think?” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “I think you’re up against it. Giovanni sent you here ’cause he’s got nothing left. He’s hoping maybe I’m dumb enough to bail him out, yeah?”

“Think what you will.” My voice was steady, clipped, but inside, I felt a tremor, a flicker of dread I forced down.

Kelley snorted, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth. “If I tell you to get lost, you’ll go begging somewhere else. Maybe hit up the Russians, huh? Fedorov’s always sniffing around for scraps.”

My expression didn’t flicker, but a chill unspooled through my gut. He’d just laid his cards down. He was watching the Russians, too. Anxiety knotted tighter in my chest. I was exposed, and he knew it.

“If you’re uninterested in the deal, we’ll seek alternatives.” I kept my tone even and formal. “We’re not desperate, Mr. Kelley. This is an opportunity. Decline, and someone else will answer.”

Kelley’s lips twisted. “You’d go running to the Russians? Fedorov? That’s how you wanna play it?”

“If the situation requires,” I said. My words were ice, but my heart thudded so loud I was sure he could hear.

Kelley’s face darkened, his accent thickening with anger. “You bring those bastards into my territory, you start something you can’t finish. The Irish’ll come down on you, the old-timers in New York’ll come down. Hell, the entire East Coast will have your head on a stick.”

“Then you’d best consider the deal,” I replied, words carefully measured.

The temperature in the room dropped. Kelley’s hand moved closer to the drawer, and I tensed, ready to move. If Kelley pulled a gun, I would have precisely two seconds to get out of the chair and across the desk. Maybe. Probably not.

But Kelley just stared at me, his face twisting with rage and something else. Fear, maybe, or respect. It was hard to tell.

“Two weeks,” Kelley said finally. “You’ll have my answer in two weeks.”

“I’ll wait to hear from you.”

I stood. I didn’t offer my hand. I simply nodded once, then turned and walked toward the door.

“Valentinetti.”

I stopped and looked back.

Kelley was standing now, his hands flat on the desk. “You tell your brother something for me. You tell him that if he fucks me on this deal, if he tries to cut me out or go around me or play games, I’ll kill you both. You understand? I’ll burn Chicago to the fucking ground.”

I held his gaze. “I’ll pass along the message.”

I walked out of the office, my pulse thudding in my ears, every step weighted by the tension that clung to my skin. The hallway stretched long and unforgiving, lined by men who watched me with dead eyes—Kelley’s men, loyal to him, dangerous as a loaded gun. Each glance was a warning. The muscle who’d let me in opened the front door, and I stepped out into the cold New York air, but the chill inside me was colder still.

Marco was still waiting by the car, engine running. My cousin, Marco, had been with me since the beginning. Loyal, but even loyalty had its limits in this business. He was more than a driver; he was the only one besides Giovanni I trusted to have my back, but sometimes I wondered how far that trust would stretch if the bullets started flying.

I got in the back seat and closed my eyes. Darkness pressed close, but it was the uncertainty that pressed closer. The knowledge that every move I made tonight could be the one that turned allies into enemies.

“How’d it go?” Marco asked. His voice was steady, but I heard the careful edge. The same way a man spoke when he knew the answer might be the last thing he heard.