Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(38)

“Sir, you can’t expect me to just accept what he did—”

“Enough, De Luca.” Spada’s voice remains calm. “Maybe if you’d held on to your temper at the restaurant, kept your hands off Angelino, then maybe I’d consider it. But you attacked him, and Angelino’s also an important part of this organization, and I depend on his earnings, so I’m denying your petition as well.”

So that’s it. Neither one of us can eliminate the other without the wrath of Spada coming down on our heads. The question is, how much will the wrath of Spada mean in the near future? That particular currency has been on a decline for a while.

Spada’s not done. In fact, he’s turned back to me. “Now, this doesn’t mean I condone what you did, Angelino. You should know better. And with the problems we’ve got developing, which are putting this organization in much more danger than I’m comfortable with, the last thing I need is an internal squabble like this. So I expect the two of you to at least lay off, if you can’t bring yourselves to make peace.”

Sal makes a low growling noise, obviously unable to completely control his reaction. I can’t even manage that much, I’m so angry. I can’t believe Spada’s dismissed me so offhandedly. My only consolation is that it’s another indication of his weakness, another reason the organization is beginning to unravel. Soon enough, he’ll be gone, and then Sal and I can have it out for real.

But no. That’s not my only consolation. Because toward the back of the room, on the other side of the table, one of Spada’s men leans over to the man next to him and mutters something. Then they both smirk and glance at Sal.

Sal’s losing his grip on his power, too. And that’s exactly what I wanted to have happen.

Maybe this isn’t going so badly after all.

Sal isn’t quite so ready to let things be, though. He comes to his feet. “That is not acceptable. I want Sarah back where she belongs.”

Spada folds his hands on the table. “Angelino, you’ve said that Miss Corelli came with you of her own free will?”

“That she did.”

“Then you have no right to demand her back, De Luca.”

“I do have a right to demand a repayment of the loan she took from me and never repaid.”

“There was no mention of a loan, De Luca,” says Spada.

Sal outlines the conditions of the deal Sarah made with him in order to start her bakery, and I listen, teeth clenching. It’s a worse deal than I’d realized. No wonder she’s so tangled up with Sal. There’s no way she can pay back that much money as long as he’s deliberately strangling the life out of her business.

When he’s done, Spada frowns. “Angelino, it seems to me that, if you’re going to claim Miss Corelli, then you need to claim her debts as well.”

My first instinct is to protest, but instead I manage to keep my mouth shut, waiting to see what else Spada says.

“You repay her loan to De Luca, and we’ll consider this matter settled.”

Sal sputters. Obviously he doesn’t feel this is an acceptable solution. That alone makes me nod. With a shrug, I tell Spada, “That seems fair. I’ll send a check along in the next couple of days.”

There’s no point being uncivil about it all, so I turn and offer Sal a handshake. “We’re good, then?”

Sal’s face has gone puce, his eyes rimmed with angry red. “Good? Good? I don’t think so, Angelino. And you—” This is directed at Spada. “What the fuck kind of organization are you running, Spada? You’re just giving him a free pass?” Suddenly Sal clenches the edge of the table. Before any of us quite realize what he’s doing, he’s pushed it up, tossing the glassware, the china, and the flatware all over the floor. It’s too big for him to completely flip it over, but I can tell he wants to. “This is bullshit, Spada! Bullshit!”

The others have stepped back, out of range of anything else that might fly off the table in the wake of Sal’s rage. I take a step back myself, moving out of danger but also to a vantage point from which I can better enjoy the look of fury on Sal’s face.

“You need to settle down,” Spada tells him, but Sal’s face just goes that much darker.

“I will not settle down, you son of a bitch.”

“How dare you speak to me that way—”

“He fucked my fiancée! I have a right to—”

“You ever ask her if she actually wanted to be your fiancée?” I break in. Probably not the best idea to shove myself into Sal’s argument with Spada, but, dammit, this concerns me, too.