Imani wasn’t amused. “You know there are.”
“Imani,” Nassor leaned forward then, his expression clearly entreating. “How can you doubt my desire to wed you? We’ve known each other for years.”
“Do you even know what my favorite color is, Nassor? My favorite flower?”
Nassor offered a full-bodied laugh that captured the approving eye of several female diners. “Is knowing those answers a prerequisite? Your parents-”
“Do you love me, Nassor?”
He seemed taken by surprise and turned serious. “You are the most beautiful woman I know.”
“Unfortunately, beauty is not enough to sustain a marriage.”
“And desire?” He countered, striking features made more magnificent as his gaze leveled on hers. “Is desire enough?”
Imani lowered her eyes to the flavorful stew still consuming more than half her bowl. Desire could be enough if it were mutual. She felt nothing for Kapango Nassor. Now, her certainty of that was no longer based on some theoretical perception of desire. Now, she had absolute knowledge of what desire felt like.
Nassor leaned close, squeezing her wrist. “It is natural to be terrified. The truth is, I’m rather terrified myself.”
“It’s not that actually, I-”
“Sir?”
Imani’s budding explanation was interrupted by one of Nassor’s men who had approached the table and was now whispering to his boss. While the men conversed, Imani scanned the dining room’s lunch time crowd. She exhaled sharply when her eyes met Roman’s. Quickly, she looked to Nassor, hoping he hadn’t heard her reaction. He was still in deep conversation with his associate.
Imani looked Roman’s way again. He sat alone at a small table. There was no sign of his brothers or that he was even eating for that matter. Despite the distance between them, she knew he watched her as she did him.
“My apologies, Imani,” Nassor was saying, his voice rough with agitation when he turned from the employee who was leaving the dining room. “Our dinner will have to end here, I’m afraid.” Standing, he offered his hand. “Come, I’ll take you back to your father’s table.”
She hesitated, peeking through the fringe of her lashes at Roman.
“Imani?”
“Yes,” she stood, putting her hand to Nassor’s and ordering herself not to look back as they walked away.
~~~
Roman watched Imani leaving and forbid himself to follow.
“Mr. Tesano?”
He recognized the hotel desk clerk who had approached his table. Silently, he gave thanks for the man, his arrival being the perfect deterrent to him doing something stupid.
“Forgive the interruption, Sir.
“Forget about it,” Roman waved off the apology. “You’re doin’ me a favor, trust me.”
“A letter for you, Sir,” the man presented a long envelope. “It was just delivered.”
“Thanks,” Roman drew a $10 bill from his pocket and exchanged it for the package. Inside, was a rubber bound manilla folder. A single sheet was attached to the top with the words YOU NEVER SAW THIS.
Roman quickly glanced over his shoulder and then opened the folder. Face tightening, his jaw muscles flexed with a will of their own.
“Son of a bitch,” he breathed.
He thumbed through the file that was interspersed with news clippings and matte photos-some in color others grayscale. Laying the file flat on the table, he scoured it and wore an expression of pure disbelief.
The clippings were from Chicago and New York papers. All the stories documented slain victims with suspected mafia ties. Several of the victims had been killed during shootouts. Accompanying the stories were what looked to be investigative photos of the crime scenes.
“Oh no,” Roman breathed in reference to the snapshots of two dead bodies. Clipped to the photos were I.D. shots-the kind that would be affixed to badges.
“Employment badges,” he noted, feeling dread fully claim him then.
~25~
Vale Paolo Tesano was Liam and Athena Tesano’s last born son.
Last born. Not a label usually looked on as anything special. Not like, first born, eldest or even youngest. There was a special...uselessness associated with the ‘last born’ label. Vale had always likened it to less than.
Of course, his family had never treated him that way. Not on the surface. Certainly there was the usual ribbing siblings heaped on one another. Such teasing could be brutal, intensifying the further down the ranks it traveled. Still, the ranks always banded together when needed. Vale never doubted his brothers would do the same. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met others who were the youngest in their families. Sadly, there weren’t many to whom he would attach the label ‘last born’.
Truthfully, he couldn’t say he knew many who would face the obstacles he would if they ever tried to break free of the uselessness associated with being the last born. Really. What could he accomplish that hadn’t already been tried and proven successful or deemed a failure?
Few had the sort of obstacles he did. He’d tried-tried doggedly for a few years to do just that. He had excelled in his studies, mastered the game of chess, knew more about his father’s business and its policies than anyone. What had it gotten him? Other than the occasional nod of approval from his father. Naturally, his mother doted, but that’s what mothers did. It wasn’t until after the ‘big meeting’ that he’d accepted the folly-the utter uselessness of it all.
Weeks earlier, before the big gathering, he had gone to his father and requested a project. It could have been anything, something to put him in the midst of Tesano. His knowledge of the company had come through reading, but he wanted actual experience. Secretly, he had hoped to find a weak link, something he could; not only point out to his father, but have a ready solution for.
Liam had seemed thrilled by the idea and Vale had gotten more than an approving nod. Then, the bottom dropped. What did his father do? He opened the gates to them all-tasking the eldest with prime responsibilities and relegating the youngest to bystander/assistant roles.
