POV: DANTE
Dante sat in the study of his Naples villa, listening to his second-in-command deliver the weekly report.
Luca Moretti....forty-two years old, ex-military, loyal to the Romano family for twenty years, stood at attention on the other side of the mahogany desk, tablet in hand.
"The New York surveillance shows no movement from Valentino," Luca said. "He's been at his penthouse for six days straight. Either he's injured worse than we thought, or he's planning something."
"Both," Dante said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Dimitri Valentino doesn't stay still unless he has to. Which means he's healing. And while he heals, he's strategizing."
"Do we move against him while he's vulnerable?"
"No. Too obvious. Too expected." Dante took a sip. "Dimitri's expecting retaliation. He's fortified his territory, tripled security on his woman, positioned soldiers everywhere. If we come at him head-on, we lose."
"Then what's the play?"
