Page 257 of Marcello

“See?!” I said.

“I don’t give a fuck about the house!” Cesare yelled. “I only give a shit about killing Dario Rosolini!”

“The mansion is of secondary importance,” Lucrezia agreed. “We need you in Florence.”

“But – ”

“The matter is settled,” she said sharply, then turned to the rest of the group. “This part is important: there’s a lot of information that has to remain secret until the day we hit Rosolini. You’re all on a need-to-know basis. You follow my orders and you don’t ask questions. I decide when you need to know something. No exceptions.”

I stayed quiet as she listed all the preparations we had to make.

I thought about calling Fausto – but I remembered the last thing he’d said to me months ago:

Don’t bother contacting me again unless you have news that DIRECTLY impacts ME.

Not Dario, not my other nephews – FORGET ABOUT THEM.

I only want information that DIRECTLY impacts ME.

Understood?

We were going to Florence to kill his nephew, and Fausto wouldn’t give a shit. He definitely wouldn’t give me my freedom for the information.

Not only that, but I was going to be 300 miles away from the mansion.

I was totally and completely fucked…

And so was Giulietta, unless I could make it back alive.

81

The next two days passed in a blur.

First, Lucrezia briefed us on our targets.

We had a mugshot of Dario Rosolini from when he went to San Vittore. The others we only had descriptions of, though they supposedly resembled their brother.

Adriano was always furious.

Massimo was a giant.

Niccolo was a smug asshole who thought he was smarter than everybody else.

Roberto, his twin, always wore a three-piece suit.

Valentino was the pretty boy.

And their Enforcer was a blond Swede named Lars. He would stick out like a sore thumb, that was for sure.

We also had pictures of a few of their wives. Before he died, Amato revealed that one of the women had a very interesting Instagram account – so we knew what Adriano, Massimo, and Roberto’s wives looked like.

But that was all.

After the briefing, I turned into Lucrezia’s personal assistant. She had me drive her around Naples as we took care of errands.

First we went to the bank, where Lucrezia met with a manager to do a wire transfer. Who she was sending it to, or how much she sent, I had no idea – but I got the sense it was a lot of money, and she seemed pretty obsessive about getting it done right away.

After the bank, we went to all our warehouses in Naples and pulled every gun we had out of storage.