Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 468 -

*Giovani*

I leaned my head back against my chair and closed my eyes with a sigh. I'd been trying to focus on work, but the numbers on my papers kept swimming back and forth. Finally, I had to just let myself think about the specter that had been haunting my thoughts-Salvatore.

A week had passed since the dinner, and we didn't know anything new. All my plans came crashing down around my shoulders when Alessandro charged into the breach before Sal got anywhere near as drunk as we needed him. Then, after Olivia stormed out, her hackles were up, and I couldn't ask anything that might risk showing my hand. The only thing worse than her being mad at me for something I told her was her being mad for something I didn't.

My phone rang, the ringtone I kept for my high-ranking men, and I plucked it off my desk, answering with my eyes still closed.

"What?" I groaned, hoping I sounded irritated with whoever called and not exhausted.

"Gio," Alessandro said. His voice was low and urgent.

I sat up and opened my eyes.

"What?" I repeated, this time actually interested in the answer.

I could almost hear his grin over the line. "I have news. Meet me at San Fredo's for lunch?"

I checked my watch. It was nearly three, but Olivia and Dahlia had taken Elio out for shopping and cupcakes, so I wouldn't have to worry about them for another few hours yet. But I had to be certain. I wouldn't leave my office for just anything. "Sal?" I asked.

"Who else?" Alessandro crowed.

"San Fredo's. 3:15." I hung up the phone.

I had to leave immediately to make it to the little bistro on the south side of town, but I allowed myself a moment. So, I hadn't gotten anything out of the dinner. I didn't give much away either. He already knew where we lived, and a basic round of surveillance would've informed him about Tallon, Alessandro, and Dahlia. But perhaps it had lured him into a sense of security because he finally, finally slipped up.

I swallowed. Olivia would kill me if she heard me say anything like that. In truth, I didn't like hoping her father was a bad guy. But that didn't shake my bone-deep faith that he was, and I knew Alessandro wouldn't have been so pleased on the phone if he hadn't found something to prove it.

I heaved up from my desk. All I needed to do now was replace out what Alessandro's news was. I would figure out how to deal with my wife later.

A quick, quiet SUV ride later, I walked into San Fredo's.

"Giovani!" the owner, Tony, called. "How are you thinner every time I see you?"

I allowed myself to be swept into the older Italian man's hug. Tony was a retired member of the Valentino family, and the only reason Alessandro would've chosen this place was if he had information to say or show-that absolutely could not fall on other ears.

I chuckled ruefully. "I guess I don't come here enough."

Tony cuffed me on the shoulder, and a couple of patrons I recognized as family men winced. No one else was allowed to touch me like that. But I knew Tony from before I was a made man, and I couldn't have stopped him from treating me like that any more than I could've flown.

"Damn right you don't," he said. "Damn fucking right. Get your ass down here and I'll fatten you up." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and I saw Alessandro at a poorly lit table in the back corner where I did most of my business. "Your friend's in the back."

"I'll do better," I promised as I headed for my table.

Tony's mutterings chased me all the way to Alessandro, who smirked at me until I shot him the sort of glare that let him know I would not replace his jokes funny.

He cleared his throat and looked at the folder on the table. "So-"

I put a hand up. "If I don't order, he's taking my head off."

Alessandro nodded, and I gestured over a spooked-looking waitress I knew to be Tony's granddaughter.

"I'll have the carbonara, heavy on the guanciale. He'll have the puttanesca."

She scurried away, and Alessandro raised an eyebrow at me.

"We didn't get menus," he said.

"Work as long as I have," I said with a shrug, "and if you don't know San Fredo's menu by heart, I'll be shocked. Now, you have news?"

Alessandro pushed the folder across the table. "Sal finally got a visitor at that park."

I flipped open the folder. Inside, I found dozens of pictures of Sal talking to a bald, muscular man in a wifebeater and cut-off shorts, covered everywhere I could see in tattoos. They looked, if not friendly, then at least familiar. Sal's posture remained at least as relaxed as it ever was around me, and the bald man crossed his arms a few times but never seemed seriously irritated.

I picked up a close-up of the man's face where I could clearly see the tattoos crawling over his bare skull and throat. If he was in the line of business I thought, I figured that I should be able to read his tattoos like a book.

At the top of his head bloomed a rose ensnared in barbed wire, most likely to indicate he'd turned eighteen in prison. A snarling wolf on his neck showed a disdain for the authorities. A ship with full sails to say he'd escaped from custody once and would again.

I knew what mob used this tattoo language. But I had to be sure.

I shuffled to another picture. Just like I thought, two eight-pointed stars adorned his knees-the mark of a thief-in-law, or member of the Russian mob, high enough that he didn't have to kneel to anybody.

I looked up at Alessandro, who grinned like the cat who ate the canary, just as our food arrived.

"Do you know what those tattoos mean?" he asked as I twirled a bite of carbonara with just the right amount of meat.

I looked at him and sighed. "This is good work, but don't get too big. If I couldn't read those tattoos, I should be shot. Eat."

Alessandro meekly shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

"This is great," he said through a full mouth.

"I know." I shook my head. "Do we know anything about this man, have any reason to believe they're actually in bed together?"

Part of me, I realized at that moment, wanted to be wrong. I didn't want to be looking at a man with Russian prison tattoos chatting with my wife's father. I wanted to welcome him into our lives, wanted to crawl into bed with her tonight and apologize for being so paranoid.

Alessandro shrugged. "Haven't tracked him down yet. They didn't exchange anything physical at the meet, and I figured you'd want us to stick with Sal and see what he did next."

I savored my bite of carbonara for a moment. "And what did he do next?"

"Nothing," Alessandro muttered. "Just went back to sitting in the park."

I bit back another sigh. He'd sounded so goddamned pleased on the phone, I'd thought he had a lead we could chase. This was bad, of course, but it was deniable if you really wanted to believe Sal was a good guy, which Olivia did. "Next time, take too big of a team. Then, you can send a splinter squad after any arrivals."

Alessandro nodded, and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

Eventually, I asked, "Has there been any Russian activity lately?"

He shook his head and swallowed quickly. "Nothing beyond what we've been seeing. But I was thinking-we lost Lorenz. What if he gave it some time, but now he's looking for revenge? Sal said he got in deep to a local family. Maybe giving them you is a way to pay his debts."

I stirred my pasta. He was right. It made perfect sense. We'd suspected there might've been Russians operating under James' nose for a little while now, and it would explain why he suddenly appeared. I didn't exactly publicize my and Olivia's wedding in business circles, and there's a chance it might've taken a couple of years to reach the Russians.

I ran a hand over my face and sighed. "That is a distinct possibility."

Alessandro grinned as he stabbed another bite of pasta. "I knew it! I knew he was bad news from the start, and this is proof. When are you going to tell Olivia?"

I put my hand heavily on the folder he provided. "Let me get one thing straight: this is evidence, not proof. Proof is something that actually connects him to mob business, not just mob members in present day. Even better if it's Lorenz. This-" I tapped the folder. "This might be the beginning of proof. But this is certainly not over. And you are not to tell Olivia anything until I say it is."

"Gotcha, boss." Alessandro's whole demeanor drooped, suddenly reminding me how young he was. He'd been an invaluable asset these past few years, but in some ways, he was the same kid who blackmailed me for six months over my relationship with Olivia.

"I just don't want anyone getting hurt," he said quietly. "She's my family, too. And the kid."

I softened. "I'm not going to let anybody get hurt. I have the situation well in hand. And thank you for this work. It is good. Now, why don't we enjoy this great food and talk about something else?"

He nodded grimly, glancing at Tony in the kitchen. The kid was smarter than I sometimes gave him credit for-he already knew he had more than a cuff on the shoulder to deal with if he sent an unfinished plate back to the kitchen.

When we finally finished our meal, I loaded into the car by myself. I offered Alessandro a ride back, but he said he needed to get back to his guys on watch. I couldn't stop thinking about what would actually be enough proof to convince Olivia.

Before I finished having the thought, I buzzed up the soundproof barrier and called Gabriele.

"Alessandro caught Sal talking with Russians," I spat.

Gabriele let out a long breath. "Russians, huh? Anybody we know?"

"Not yet," I huffed. "But Alessandro thinks it's tied up with Lorenz. Did he ever resurface anywhere?"

"Not that popped up on our radars," Gabriele answered. "And I always thought that was suspicious. The kid might be right. It seems too coincidental any other way."

I let out a long, slow breath. The full weight of Alessandro's discovery settled on me all at once. Somehow, in Gabriele's mouth, it felt undeniable. Olivia's father was working with the Russians, and I had to prove that to her before it got one of us killed, and hope that she didn't kill me in the process.

"Do you have anything new?" I asked.

"I was going to call you tonight," he said. "A couple of banking inconsistencies. Not too weird on their own, but if he's with the Russians...."

Gabriele didn't need to finish his sentence. If he was with the Russians, every banking inconsistency could be a payment. If he was with the Russians, any banking inconsistency threw up screaming red flags.

"I don't want to make any assumptions, though," Gabriele said. "I made up my mind about Elena too quickly, and I don't intend to fall into that trap again."

"Smart," I agreed, as though both of us had not just run down every dark road 'if he's with the Russians' called to mind. "Looking into it further?"

"With our best people," he replied. "At this time, I would class him as nothing more specific than a threat."

I rubbed a hand over my face. "So you agree he's a threat?"

A long silence came over the line.

"I think calling him anything else is naive," Gabriele finally said.

We pulled up in front of the compound, and I got off the phone.

I had to tell her, had to make her see my side despite her desire to have a father in her life. Salvatore was a threat, and most likely a Russian threat.

I'd promised myself one thing when we drove the Russian scourge out of Florence-none of those bastards would ever touch a hair on my family's heads again. And I would do anything to keep that promise.