“Banging Lorenzo’s wife while she is, supposedly, at her regular manicure appointment,” I say. “Who else?”
Damian crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, smiling. “Santino D’Angelo is undecided.”
“Well, Santino is not f*****g anyone except his maid, and his wife knows about it. Shame,” I say. “But his oldest son, Dario, is neck deep in debt. With the Albanians.”
“Gambling?”
“Yes. The last bit of information I have is that it’s close to three hundred grand, but that was last month. It’s probably more now. Dario has a huge influence on his father.”
“If we buy out his debt, perhaps he’ll be able to steer Santino in the right direction?”
“Most probably.” I nod. “Any other problems?”
“None for now.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Where did you get this informa
