Page 39 of Bad Husband

“I live my life, and I make sure I keep her safe.”

“Don’t you think you should just call her? Let her know what you’re up to?” Angelo held out his cell phone, and Marco took it, to place it in his pocket. He might need it.

“Are you ready to go?”

“What would your father say?” Angelo asked.

“He’d tell me I was a fool, as well as many other insults along the way.”

“And you don’t care about this?”

“My father is dead. This is what I want, and I refuse to back down. I love your daughter, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I’m not going to change my mind. This is over and it ends now.”

With that, he made his way out of his home, which had been in his family for several generations. He climbed into his car, and Angelo joined him, climbing into the passenger seat.

It was a rare occurrence getting an audience with the one and only Anthony Bove. He is not the leader of the Bove Mafia, he is the right-hand man. The brother. There was a chance today could end everything. Anthony might even kill him for asking.

Marco didn’t know what would happen, but he headed to the secure location where Anthony Bove was waiting for a meeting. It was a secluded brothel three hours from his home, located in a private area. To the outskirts, it looked like any ordinary home, but inside was where the Bove Mafia collected all its necessary blackmail material. To be the best, tactics were put in place to make them the best.

Marco had a singular code to allow him entrance. When he arrived, there were no other cars, no other guests. Usually, this brothel was thriving, and he knew as he was the one to keep it maintained. This was one of the Bove’s pride and joys. The family home full of dark secrets.

He sensed Angelo’s nervousness.

Parking his car, he climbed out, securing his jacket, and then he made his way toward the main door. Before he even got to the door, it opened, and a woman moved aside and held her hand out, to gesture him forward.

Marco knew where he needed to go, and the doorway held three guards, all of which held guns, and they didn’t look impressed with him. He put his hands behind his head and allowed them to pat him down, removing the three guns, as well as two blades he kept on his person.

Angelo was met with the same scrutiny, and once they were all clear, they were shown into the office.

Anthony Bove was in his fifties, a balding man, but also one that garnered a great deal of respect. To protect his brother, he faced down the enemy, a gang intent on removing the Bove name, and Anthony alone saved his brother, annihilated the gang, and cemented them as the winners.

He sat, a pipe in his mouth, and a drink in one hand. The room was dark, apart from the glow of a couple of lamps behind him.

“Marco Volpi,” Anthony said.

He stood, arms at his sides, and looked at Anthony. Words were not necessary and would just waste time.

“You submitted a request to leave the Bove Mafia. To turn your back and to also take your wife with you.”

Marco looked toward Anthony. Every part of tonight was a test. He was not going to fail.

“Is there any way we can lure you back?” Anthony asked.

“No, sir,” he said.

Anthony sighed. “A woman. It’s always a woman.” He shook his head. “My dear brother has granted you this request but there is a ... necessary penalty you must pay.”

“Name it,” Marco said.

“He wants Andante’s head served to him on a silver platter. Your piece of flesh with the Bove marking, and only then can you leave,” Anthony said.

Marco knew he would be set a task that seemed completely impossible, and he knew his flesh that bore the Bove Mafia mark would need to be removed. Having it inked over was not going to work. It was flesh.

And once he killed Andante, they could have his flesh.

“Consider it done,” he said, and he bowed his head as a sign of respect, then turned on his heel and walked away.

The clock was ticking.