Chapter 12
DANTE
I ’m called for a meeting with Ettore, this time at his strip club. It’s not technically his club anymore. Once he marries Carmela, he will officially hand it over to his brother Bosco.
I give Christian a nod as I pass him in the bar area where he is talking with Jero. It’s early, and the club is empty except for the cleaning crew, a man restocking the refrigerators, and a couple of guys who have a set of ladders out and are working on a rack of lights.
Taking the back stairs, I emerge at the entrance to his office. The soldier on duty opens the door and lets me in.
I take the seat opposite at Ettore’s indication. It’s internal, windowless, and dominated by his huge, leather-topped desk.
“Want a drink?” he asks. He has removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves.
Looks like he has been here for a while, possibly all night.
“I’m good, thanks,” I say. I had my mouth on his future wife’s pussy only yesterday.
If I close my eyes, I can still imagine her taste on my lips.
I’ve ridden roughshod over one of the sacred commandments.
It adds an edge to being called to meet him here rather than his new home.
While the house has a panic room, which could be used for interrogation were you so inclined, the rooms in the basement of this club are better suited to such a task.
“It was Carmela’s birthday yesterday.”
I feign indifference. “Yes, I did realize it must be one day soon. Did you have a pleasant evening?”
“No. I was dealing with Jimmy fucking Rizzo.”
I guess this explains his sudden disappearance yesterday… My eyebrows pull together at the mention of a capo. Ettore’s godson, no less. “What happened?”
He pushes a thick ledger across his desk toward me. I pick it up and look over the contents. It’s not long before the anomalies present themselves.
“Jimmy or someone in his employment has been skimming,” I say slowly. “By a significant amount.”
Ettore nods. “Him, his men; I suspect the rot runs deep.”
His dilemma is apparent. Jimmy is family to him, but he has broken another of the sacred commandments.
If Ettore knew what I’d done, he wouldn’t be fucking around with mind games. Yet what I’m hoping is a coincidental message is nevertheless delivered loud and clear.
I close the book. “You’re about to be named don. You already run things in Cedro’s stead, save for an official handover. I’m assuming you’re going to send a strong message.” I slide the ledger back onto his desk.
He sighs. “It’s been a long night. Fucking punk. His father is a good friend. He will be disappointed. But what am I to do? And no, I’m not looking for your advice on this. He’s downstairs praying for his life. Not that it will do him any good.”
He opens the cigar box on his desk and offers it to me. When I decline, he lights one up, inhaling deeply before blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke.
“It would be damaging to you at this crucial time to allow him to live.” I state the obvious.
“He was a yappy kid. His father never disciplined him enough.” He shrugs as he considers the glowing end of his cigar.
“But removing Jimmy leaves me with a problem and a vacant position. I’ve already had to shuffle some players to fill my role of underboss.
That leaves me with no obvious successor given most of Jimmy’s direct reports will be joining him. I need you over there.”
“There? You want me to go through their books and give you an assessment?”
He takes another draw of the cigar and exhales another cloud of smoke. “No, I want you to take over.”
My brows pull together for the second time in as many minutes. “I fear I’m a little in the dark. I’m not part of the family, merely an advisor.”
“Your uncle made the transition. He was a good underboss. It’s in your blood. I need you as a capo. I’m giving you all Jimmy’s concerns.”
I’m scrambling. I feel a telltale trickle of sweat down the center of my back.
“This is unexpected.”
Jimmy’s patch is a two-hour drive out of the city. I’ve been there a few times reviewing the books, but not in a while.
Ettore is removing me from my position as consigliere and moving me out of the picture. If he knew what I had done with Carmela, I’d be sitting next to Jimmy in the basement. But he must have suspicions that I’m at least a little resentful he stole the woman Cedro promised to me.
He would be right.
I also believe, in some way, big or small, he had a hand in what happened to Cedro and the death of his wife.
Ettore is dangerous, of that I have no doubt.
“You understand I would prefer you not to be around Carmela,” he says bluntly, taking another draw on the cigar while subjecting me to a direct, unwavering stare.
“You’re a good consigliere. Your brother is fitting in well—a good soldier.
Jero speaks highly of him. What happened with Cedro was unfortunate.
I know he matched the two of you, thinking to shield Carmela.
But that time is over now. I need strong hands holding our concerns formerly under Jimmy.
” Another draw on the cigar. Another fragrant cloud of smoke.
“And I need my wife to be focused on her husband.”
I don’t fucking blink. In all my time working with Cedro, I never felt nor experienced anything close to a direct threat.
This isn’t an opportunity I can think over, nor can I decline.
I can even understand the stance he is taking. Doesn’t make me any less pissed about it. I was focused on ensuring I didn’t raise his suspicions. Not once did I stop to consider he would be worried about her.
Going down on her, making her come for me, ordering her to wear my necklace: none of that will fucking help her. She’s young and impressionable—she wears her feelings openly.
I have really fucked up.
“Understood. My current work managing the contracts?”
“Find ways to delegate. I would hate to lose your knowledge and want you to continue overseeing that side of the business.”
“And when would you expect me to start this new position?
“Tomorrow,” he says.
Fuck my life.
I’m packing essentials in my home office. Christian is watching me from the doorway, arms folded, scowling.
“What are you going to do?”
“As I’m told. I’m not looking to get offed, and he’s a man with an arm-long set of issues.
My mere presence triggers a good number of them.
All this aside, I don’t want to cause problems for Carmela.
Jealous husbands with inferiority complexes don’t make for happy families. Better if I extract myself.”
The feeling of helplessness is strong, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.
I’ve lived a coveted life: one I fucking loved.
I watched and learned from my father for many years before I took over the position, one of power and influence, making connections and brokering deals, occasionally stepping in to cool tempers when the strong personalities so prevalent in this world got overheated.
I always stepped back before the blood spilled because a consigliere sat between the worlds and not in them, yet feeling invincible and untouchable because I had the Accardi family behind me.
Now the Accardi family is crumbling. Cedro is broken, his daughter is collateral, and the only person in my corner is Christian… and maybe one other.
“I told her all her firsts would be mine.”
Christian chuckles. “Yeah? When?”
I shouldn’t have said that out loud. My brother has a habit of taking statements I make literally.
“At the house,” I admit.
“Before or after you went down on her?”
“You’re not helping—and I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Well, that’s going to be very fucking difficult now you are moving out of the city.” His brows are bunched together like he’s working out how to make this happen.
“He’s firing blanks,” he continues. “That is going to become pretty fucking obvious soon now he’s got himself a young, fertile wife.”
“His inability to procreate is speculation. And you’re still not fucking helping, Chris.” I toss the file I’m holding back into the cabinet.
Fertile. Why does that word threaten my intentions to do the right thing, the only thing that won’t see me dead?
She was supposed to be my wife. I was happy to wait, to go slow, let her go to college and grow into herself, then we would marry, and the kids would come along.
Now I want to plant my seed inside her womb while she screams my name.
If circumstances left us alone in a room again, I’d be breeding that good girl in a heartbeat.
Fuck my life.
“I had to sit and listen to him spell out in clear, concise terms how he didn’t want me around his wife.
This, right after letting me know Jimmy was a few floors away, waiting to be turned into worm food.
He has all the power here. I’m a consigliere, turned capo of a shit show.
So, I’m going to do the only thing I can.
Try to clean up the mess Jimmy left, build up whatever assets I’ve inherited, and make it the most profitable enterprise in the family.
Amass soldiers and as much fucking power as I can.
” My smile holds no humor. “Quietly, and all the while ensuring I’m scratching the backs of the other capos. Making myself invaluable.”
“What if he just takes all your hard work off you? What if he sees you as a threat?”
“I am a threat. That’s why he’s moving me out of his circle. But he’s too busy worrying about how I’m a threat to his wife. He won’t be expecting me to present as the other kind of threat. At least not until it’s too late.”
“You’re going to break him from the inside out,” he says, nodding. “It’s fucking ballsy, and I like it.”
My next smile is genuine. “I’m glad it meets with your approval,” I say dryly, then shrug. “Maybe he wants me to succeed, and he’s killing two birds with one stone. Or maybe he’s hoping I will fuck up. By the way, I’ve spoken to Leon.”
Christian raises both brows and uncrosses his arms. “Yeah, how did that go?”
When I’d spoken to Leon after my father’s funeral, he’d been adamant he would never make America his permanent home.
But, as the saying goes, things change. Back when the family was whole, I always presumed he would take over as underboss from his father, just as I would take over as consigliere from mine.
We’d both been both screwed over, just in different ways.
“I thought it might be harder to persuade him to come back, but I’d barely finished talking and he was organizing a flight.”
“Yeah? You two were always close.” Christian grins. “That’s going to piss Ettore off, him turning up. What’s he going to be doing?”
“Officially, working for me managing my new business concerns.”
“Unofficially?”
“To be determined. Once he’s back, we can talk in detail. I have a strong feeling our life goals will align.”
“Ettore should have kept you as consigliere. I don’t know who he’s going to replace you with, but they’re not going to cut it. No one knows the family business like you do.”
“He should have. That was his first mistake.”
“Maybe he thought you’d fold in with his plans. I guess he doesn’t see you as his enemy.”
“Then that would be his second mistake.”