Inferno(82)

‘Wise words,’ said Tommaso. ‘Sophie Gracewell seeks to align herself with this family and gain Sanctuary. Who will speak for her?’

Valentino shifted in his chair, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Felice. Without taking out the paper inside it, Felice peeked in. He glanced back at Valentino, his expression grim.

Nic stood up. He held a steady stance, his hands folded in front of him so that he loomed over the rest of the Falcones like a soldier standing guard. ‘I’ll speak for her, since I know her the best.’

‘And ’cause you’re doing her!’ shouted Dom, his words peeling into raucous laughter. Gino shook with childish titters and I felt my face grow hot.

‘Vaffanculo!’ hissed Luca. ‘Have some respect!’

‘Let the truth reign,’ Dom returned with a sneer. ‘He wants to make her his comare!’

I didn’t know what a comare was, but I could tell by the blazing anger in Nic’s expression that it was meant to be offensive. I felt the overwhelming urge to launch across the table and punch Dom’s stupid face in.

‘Smettila!’ said Nic. ‘Or I’ll come over there and stuff my fist down your throat.’

‘Speak!’ said Ignacio. He pursed his lips and the resulting frown was so severe I felt a trickle of fear creep down my spine.

Valentino gestured towards Nic, rolling his hand in a circle. ‘Go on,’ he said dispassionately. He was staring at me again. I could almost see the cogs turning in his head. I looked at my hands. If he was going to say it, he should just say it, and stop lording it over me like this.

Luca’s mouth was set in a hard line, his penetrating gaze fixed towards the side of Nic’s face as he spoke.

‘We know of Donata’s movements, but Jack Gracewell is still hard to pin down. He might not come back to Cedar Hill at all now he has the Marinos to do his bidding. If it comes to tracking him down, Sophie is the best tool we have. We’d be fools to set her loose while she has so much to offer.’

‘And, don’t forget, you’re doing her!’ Dom catcalled. This time Luca leapt out of his seat and lunged towards him, grabbing his shirt collar and tightening it around his neck.

‘Luca,’ cautioned Valentino, a frown drawing his eyebrows together. ‘What are you doing?’

Dom’s face was turning purple. ‘Calmati,’ he wheezed. ‘What’s it got to do with you anyway?’

‘Act your age, idiota di merda.’ Luca pushed him away and fell back into his chair with a sharp curse.

‘Nic, are you done?’ asked Valentino.

Nic was looking unsure of himself. That made two of us. Did he mean all that stuff about using me and exploiting my allegiance? Or was he saying what he knew they wanted to hear? He was so nebulous, his family’s mission twined so tightly in his core that it was difficult to separate the two.

‘Yeah,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat down. ‘What else is there?’

‘Can we just vote already?’ CJ was the youngest in the room and he appeared to be monumentally bored. I guessed his murder of Sara Marino had earned him his place at the table.

‘Wait.’ Luca stood up and walked alongside the table, stopping behind Paulie and pinning his attention on his mother. ‘Nic shouldn’t have to plead Sophie’s case by presenting her as a weapon at our disposal. Sophie seeks what is good and just in this world, just like we do. Her loyalties are decided not by blood but by right and wrong. She has never betrayed this family, and when times have questioned her allegiance she has stood beside the Falcones. She risked her life to save mine. Now we can repay her. This isn’t a matter of her use but of our collective conscience, and whether we are going to do the right thing.’

The room had fallen silent. Valentino’s eyes were closed, his frown deepening bit by bit. The words were not sitting well with him; I could feel it. I could feel it coming towards me, like a tidal wave. Beside him, Felice’s gaze was hooded with caution.

‘Eloquently put, Luca,’ said Paulie. ‘You truly are your father’s son.’

Elena tapped her nails along the table and heads turned in her direction. ‘Eloquent or not, my son,’ she said. ‘There is still the question of whether she will betray us.’ Her exhale sounded disconcertingly like a warning whistle, and it snapped something inside me.

I had had enough of my name being bashed. Plus, I had stayed silent for what must have been a world record for me. I stepped forward, clearing my throat and intending to clear my name too, before she stomped over it any more. ‘I’m not a snitch. I know the importance of omertà. I’ve never spoken to a cop about anything to do with you or my uncle. I came today with information hoping you might give my mother and me something in return. I’ve never tried to betray any of you, despite your actions – which have, in the past, been pretty shady.’