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I watched Savina let out a steady breath. “What do you want, Stewart.”
“I’d like for us to meet,” he said, and Savina’s head reared back in surprise. “We need to talk, and I think that it’d be best if we did that without the benefit of lawyers or the police.”
“We don’t need to talk,” Savina corrected him, and I couldn’t help but feel proud of her, though it wasn’t my place. She’d always been strong, but I liked how the Olivers were finally seeing it.
“Are you so confident that you won’t be going to prison, then?” he replied like a man that knew how much power he wielded.
“Pretty,” Savina retorted.
“You killed my son,” Stewart bit out. “You owe me this meeting.”
“I don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” she fired back. “You knew what Ashton was doing to me, and you did nothing about it.”
“Exactly what would you have had me do, Savina?” he shot back. “Sacrifice my eldest son for you?” He scoffed like the idea was positively ludicrous. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Nevertheless, we have nothing to talk about,” she repeated.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied confidently.
“I’m not interested,” she said, her voice sounding strong.
“I still have that video of Councilman Bustamente,” he said, pissing me off in the process. “Do you really want a video like that getting around, Savina?”
When Savina’s eyes cut to mine, I said, “I’m going to fucking gut you, Congressman.”
There was a moment of pause, and it was obvious that we’d caught him off guard. Savina must have really played her part well for everyone to believe that she was ignorant and weak. Luckily for her, being underestimated was probably the best thing for her right now.
“Even you can’t be so stupid as to threaten a US Congressman, Mr. Provenza,” Stewart finally said. “You’re not that powerful.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I replied, doing my best to tamp down my anger.
“Does Mr. Sartori agree with that?” he asked, trying to goad me but having no idea just how close Nero and I were.
“Well, you’ll have your answer when my knife is slicing you from navel to nose,” I told him.
Ignoring that, he said, “I just need to speak with Savina.”
“It’s up to her if she wants to speak with you,” I said. “However, I’ll be with her, and you’ll need to leave that safe and cushy office of yours to do it.”
“I can’t be seen in Sartori territory,” he huffed, clearly offended by the very idea.
“Then you won’t be speaking with Savina,” I retorted.
“We can meet on Holland Street,” he suggested. “It’s neutral territory.”
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully, Stewart,” I said. “If you want to speak with Savina, it will be here, and I will be with her when you do meet with her.”
He was quiet for a second, but then finally said, “Where do you want to meet?”
“I’ll text you the address,” I informed him.
“It’ll have to be in the evening, and the place has to be private,” he stated. “I cannot be seen over there.”
“Yeah, we heard you the first time,” I drawled out. “I’ll send you the time when I send you the address.”
With that, I hung up on the motherfucker, then looked over at Savina. Luckily, she didn’t look upset or scared. She looked pensive, and I knew that she was thinking about his threat to make good on releasing that fake footage of me killing Jorge Bustamante. While the case was still unsolved, he’d said it himself that the police were always on his side, and as far as the hierarchy went, US Congressmen outranked city councilmen.
“Are you okay?”
