Everyone Loved His First Love Until They Found Me

The director's voice cut through the humid air of the safehouse courtyard three times. "Basta. Enough." Three times he called the sit-down finished, and three times Lorenzo Falcone ignored him, his mouth still fused to Bianca Rizzo's in a display no crew of made men should have been forced to witness.

As his shadow-hand, the woman who ran his territory from behind the curtain, I stepped forward and reminded them, softly, that the meeting had ended. That was all. A quiet word, the kind I'd given him ten thousand times in five years.