Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Joshua
“ C an I grab a ride with you?” Fiero asks when we reach the parking lot, swiping wet hair off his brow. The heavens decided to open, battering us with torrential rain and bristling winds on the walk back from the dock. “I don’t fancy taking the chopper in this weather.” Fiero and Massimo both have pilot licenses, and they regularly travel here via helicopter from their homes in Long Island and the city.
“Sure. We can head to the meeting together, but I need a coffee refill first.” I stop at my car to grab the travel mug Sorella gave me.
“Always so organized.” Fiero’s lips tip up as we head inside the vast building.
“Not me this time.” I waggle my brows and grin.
“I thought I might have disturbed something earlier.” Fiero smirks as we step into the elevator, and he presses the button for the third floor.
“Don’t feel bad. I made sure she finished me off before I left.”
Fiero throws back his head and laughs. “Man, I miss being young.”
“Dude, you’re only forty-two. That’s hardly over the hill. And you’re a don. No pussy would ever reject you.” Fiero’s a handsome man for his age. I often wonder why he never settled down; maybe he has history that means family life no longer holds any appeal, like me.
“I get plenty of pussy if I want it, but that playboy lifestyle gets old after you’ve been doing it so long.” The elevator stops, and the door pings as it glides open. We exit together. “I had a good time in my twenties and thirties, but it’s just not doing it for me any longer.”
“Then get hitched. I’m sure you have no shortage of offers.”
Forced marriages are rare these days because Don Mazzone changed a lot of the traditions when he reestablished The Commission fourteen years ago. It’s still proposed for political strengthening at higher levels, but most arranged marriages are consensual. Not like how it was for my mom when she was forced to marry our widowed dad.
“I haven’t found anyone I want to marry,” he admits, walking into the empty staff cafeteria. “I’m not even sure marriage is for me.” He shrugs as we fix our coffees side by side. “And I don’t necessarily need an heir.”
“Because Zumo can take over, and he’ll most likely have kids,” I supply. Zumo Maltese is one of our good friends, and he likes being in a committed relationship. He and Cristian—another good friend and the don of the DiPietro famiglia in New York—have that in common while the rest of us are happy to remain unattached.
“Exactly.” He puts the lid on his takeout coffee before rubbing at his eyes. “It’s entirely too early to be discussing this shit.”
I snort out a laugh as I grab my coffee and we walk off. “Trust me, I’m more than happy to leave the subject of marriage behind. We’ve got way more pressing issues.”
“Do you really think O’Hara’s involved?” Fiero asks as we head toward the city for the early-morning Commission meeting in Manhattan.
“I didn’t before, but now I don’t know what to think,” I truthfully reply. “I’ve always found him honorable, and it didn’t seem like he was lying when we put him on the spot, but who’s to say he isn’t working an angle with his brother? Maybe they’ve decided they want it all now.”
“They hate one another,” Fiero reminds me as I swing around the corner onto a main road.
“Fucking hell!” Fiero stares out the window, tipping his head up and chuckling. “They used to say Massimo and I were the poster boys for the mafioso in the city, but we never had our faces splashed all over Times Square.”
I glance out the window at the massive billboard, grinning at the image of Caleb and me looking like two smug pricks in expensive clothing from the winter catalog. “You should be used to it by now. It’s not the first time our faces have appeared on advertising campaigns.”
I graduated NYU early with an honors business degree and went straight into working for the Accardi Company. Caleb shunned college to pursue other things, but he joined me in the family business at the same time. My twin channeled his energies on building our clothing brand into a leading-edge design house that is now most sought after among fashion-conscious men across the globe. Years ago, our father had attempted to expand the clothing division by acquiring Kennedy Apparel from Alex Kennedy, but Gino Accardi lacked vision, and he had no creative flare.
Caleb loves fashion almost as much as he loves the notoriety and fame that comes from being the face of our brand. We both like to look good, and Caleb has used that to grow our brand and triple the profits. Ironically, one of our biggest competitors is Keanu Kennedy’s brand, but it’s friendly rivalry. The market is big enough for both brands, and we have hired models through his modeling agency to prove there’s no bad blood.
“If Massimo and I had thought of the idea, we’d probably have started our own fashion line too. You have the pick of pussy in the city I’m guessing.”
“I don’t indulge much.” I prefer the short list of girls I call on when I need to fuck. They’ve all been carefully vetted and signed NDAs, and they submit to regular testing. I know what I’m getting, and the risk is low.
“Unlike your twin.” Fiero grins. “He must be a walking STD by now.”
“No more than you would have been back in the day.”
“Truth, and I’m a judgment-free zone.”
His grin expands as I take a right at the junction, driving in the direction of the impressive glass building in the near distance that is our destination.
“At least he’s not fucking Anais anymore, and that’s a win,” I say.
Well, not much. She’s in Vegas most of the time and the separation has been good for my twin. Caleb’s loyalty knows no bounds, and I couldn’t love him more for it. But she’s a toxic bitch and bad news. Anais feeds that cruel streak inside Caleb, and I don’t like who he is when he’s with her. I want her as far away from him as possible. Caleb has delivered the message and continuing to fuck with Cruz is playing with fire.
That narcissistic asshole is unpredictable and power-hungry, and he’s set his sights on Caleb. My brother can hold his own, but he needs additional shit like a hole in the head. I’d rather Caleb completely cut ties with Cruz’s wife so we can draw a line under the whole sorry affair.
“That was not a good scenario.” Fiero drums his fingers on his knee as I turn into the underground parking lot of Commission Central.
Caltimore Holdings own the building, but Don Mazzone leases it at cost to The Commission. Every famiglia in the US pays a monthly stipend to The Commission, which covers the costs of running a governing body and pays for the variety of support services provided to members.
“Cruz is a vindictive prick,” Fiero adds as I drive into my designated parking space and kill the engine. “He won’t forget what Caleb’s done.” His blue eyes stab mine. “Caleb needs to always watch his back. Don’t let him get complacent. I know your brother is lethal, and if he went one-on-one with Cruz, he’d nail that shithead to the wall. But Cruz also knows that, which is why he won’t come for him head on.”
“Caleb can handle Cruz.”
“In theory.” Fiero turns in his seat to face me. “Caleb is prone to bouts of recklessness, and he displays a worrying lack of regard for his safety at times. That’s when Cruz will strike. He’ll hit him when he least expects it. When he’s vulnerable.”
“Only if we let it come to that.” The unspoken sentiment behind those words goes unsaid. To articulate it is tantamount to treason.
“My allegiance is with you and your brother. I hate that self-righteous bastard, but I’d hate to see either of you lose your life over him. Make smart choices, Joshua, and ensure your twin does too.”
I’m still mulling over Fiero’s words as I stand in front of the mirror in the men’s locker room after my shower. We all keep clothing and supplies here because we’re often called in on short notice. Massimo runs The Commission professionally as his predecessor, Don Mazzone, did. No one is permitted to show up unless they are well groomed and dressed the part.
We go to extremes to protect the criminal elements of our businesses and our darker reputations. In public, we always present as successful entrepreneurs. Mazzone’s IT companies control the stuff that goes out on the web, and there are dedicated teams who work twenty-four-seven to remove any incriminating evidence.
After I’m dressed in a custom-fit charcoal-gray suit and I’ve styled my hair back off my face, I exit the locker room and head toward the conference center on the top floor.
“Bro.” Caleb emerges from the elevator as I walk by, clamping his hand down hard on my shoulder. “What the fuck’s going on?” he asks, stifling a yawn.
Whiskey fumes drift over my face, and a muscle ticks in my jaw. “You reek,” I hiss. “Go clean up.”
“Fuck off. You’re not my father.”
More like babysitter . I think it but don’t say it. Keeping my brother in check is occupying more of my time these days. “You can’t show up hungover.” This is the one place my brother cannot get away with breaking rules or appearing disinterested.
“I’ve got it under control, and you need to get laid more often. You’ve been even more uptight these past few months.”
“I get laid plenty, and you know why I’ve been stressed.”
Caleb’s expression turns serious as he pumps minty spray into his mouth. “This is about the Irish threat.”
“It’s accelerating,” I confirm, watching as he pulls a bottle of cologne out of his pocket and douses himself in it. “War seems inevitable at this point.”
“Good.” He circles his arm around my shoulders and flashes me a devilish grin. “Things have been too quiet for years. I’m itching to gut a few fuckers.”
“Keep those kinds of comments to yourself in there.” We round the corner and reach the double doors to the main conference room. “This is a time for shrewd thinking not bloodthirsty proclamations.”
“Violence and death are the normal way of life, J. No matter how ‘peaceful’ things have been since The Commission was reformed, there is no getting away from the basics. We’re lucky we’ve enjoyed relative stability since we took control, but it could change in the blink of an eye. We saw enough of it growing up to know that’s our reality.”
He’s not wrong, but is it wrong to want peace instead of bloodshed? “I saw the reality with my own eyes this morning, and it wasn’t pretty. I sense something big brewing.” I stop outside the doors and turn to my brother, Fiero’s warning still ringing in my ears. “This fight might look external, but I have a feeling we’re waging a war on two fronts, and you especially need to watch your back.”