no patience,” Angelo remarked with amusement. “But I have to say I’m also intrigued enough to dispense with ceremony. I’m ready to proceed.”
He looked at me, but I made no move to get up.
“She stays,” Hadrian said quietly, his voice steel.
“Are you sure?” Angelo asked.
“Aye. I want her to hear all of it.”
“All right then.” He leaned back in his chair and waited for Hadrian to speak.
“A few nights ago, an assassin broke into my home,” Hadrian began, switching from English to Italian. “It’s never been done before. You know the precautions I take to prevent things like that. The assassin and I fought—hand to hand—he escaped, but not without injury. My head of security was able to find him before he got off the island. When I went to question him the next morning, he broke a cyanide capsule inserted into his tongue. He cursed at me in Sicilian before he killed himself. He died before I learned anything of value.”
Hadrian’s fist rested next to his plate, and he slowly unclenched it. “So, my question to you is, who is desperate enough to kill a man as powerful as me even though I have a dead man’s switch in place?”
I frowned, not understanding the term.
“Sicilian…do you think it’s one of the five families?” Luca asked after a moment. The question wasn’t directed at Hadrian, but at his father.
Angelo slowly scratched his clean-shaven jaw. “Perhaps.”
“Are you sure it was Sicilian?” Luca asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” Hadrian said, his face clouding with annoyance. “Who would stand to gain the most from my death?”
“The Lanzas are the only one of the five families that are Sicilian,” Nico said.
“It wasn’t the Lanzas,” Angelo rebutted. “The head of their family just died and now his sons are fighting amongst each other for the right to lead. They wouldn’t benefit from Hadrian’s death.” He paused for a moment and then said, “It couldn’t have been the Foscari, either. If they’d wanted something done, they would have done it themselves. They’d never send a Sicilian to do their dirty work.”
I reached for my glass of water with the intention of taking a long sip to steady my nerves, but instead of grasping the stem, my fingers fumbled, and I knocked it over.
Angelo’s eyes locked onto mine and for a brief moment, my heart felt as though it was going to burst out of my chest.
Luca jumped up immediately, grabbing his napkin from his lap and hastily covering the spill.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“No harm done,” Luca said absently, tossing the soiled napkin on the table.
I rose from my seat with the intention of getting Luca a clean linen. As I headed to the china hutch, my back was to the table, giving me a moment to compose myself.
“That leaves only the Sforza or the Borgia,” Hadrian said after a spell of silence.
I opened the drawer and pulled out a napkin and brought it to Luca. He smiled his thanks, and I reached around him to grab the wet napkin and remove it from the table.
“It’s not the Sforza,” Nico piped up. “They wouldn’t do anything that takes time away from expanding their fashion empire. It’s already worth over a billion dollars and they’re not prone to violence anyway. It doesn’t make sense for them to make a move like that.”
“It’s without question the Borgia,” Tor said firmly.
Everyone turned to look at him. His brother peered at him in curiosity. “We’re leaning that direction, clearly, but how do you know for sure, Tor,” Luca asked. “It could be another lesser known aristocratic family trying to make a name for themselves and worm their way to the top.”
“The Borgia have no code of honor.” Tor shook his head. “About a year ago, the Borgia were caught human trafficking through the ports by members of an Italian Secret Police organization. I wouldn’t put it past Carlo Borgia to make a deal with the government. Think about it, how do you save your own skin? You turn in a bigger fish—a rival.”
“But how does killing Hadrian help the Borgia?” I asked in confusion, my stomach turning at the thought of human trafficking.
Hadrian looked at me. “I’m an utpresser, a professional blackmailer. If I die, everything I know about the five families will become public. That’s the dead man’s switch. If anyone kills me, a whole slew of people go down in flames.”
“But why would the Borgia be okay with their own secrets coming out? That’s what would’ve happened if the assassin