Chapter 10 – Vincenzo
The only reason I was allowed to breathe in this godforsaken city was because I made a deal with the devil himself.
Alexei Morozov owed me a life debt when I saved his younger brother, Andrei, by taking him under my wing in prison.
I knew protecting him for five years, forging him into a killing machine with ruthless hours spent at the weights, would pay off.
I even liked the kid—although that took a long time to realize.
Now, Manhattan was my playground. I wasn’t here as a Made Man, but a legitimate businessman with morally questionable business ethics.
I enjoyed cultivating my empire, escaping the demands of the Morelli Mob.
Maybe someday I could walk away from the street crews, but I would never stop using the lessons growing up a mobster taught me.
They applied surprisingly well to the business world.
“V, you always look so angry,” Alexei rumbled.
I glared at him from across the VIP area. “Your point?”
He shrugged. “I never see you enjoying the finer things in life.” He held up his tumbler of vodka that cost high four-figures per bottle. “Why is that?”
“Did you come here to give me a philosophy lesson?” I leaned forward.
Alexei snorted. “I came to check on my business partner.”
And our investment.
But even his brutally blunt ass wouldn’t say that out loud.
No, he might be crazy, but he knew better than to question my ethics.
I opened Inferno eighteen months ago, and there were still lines that went around the building every damn night.
Part of the draw was that it was only open Saturday nights.
The entertainment was unpredictable, the experiences one of a kind.
It fed the word-of-mouth, bringing people from far and wide to chase an evening of revelry.
“Did you bring the specs I asked for?” I gave my partner a hard look.
Alexei groaned. “Always working. You need to learn the word ‘fun.’ Fff. uu. Nnn,” he sounded it out as though teaching a child English. “It means stop whatever the fuck it is you’re doing.”
I held his stare, not giving him a flicker of amusement.
With a sigh, he waved his fingers. One of his guys stepped out of the shadows, bringing a briefcase and setting it on the table. The metal clasps clicked. But I pressed my fingers on the top of the case.
“Not here.” Cavolo, was he stupid?
The Russian looked around. “There are no cops here.”
My stomach tightened. “They’re everywhere.”
“Well, they know better than to mess in my business,” he snorted.
That hubris would be his downfall.
I had honed a set of rules by which to live. This was a second chance, and I would be damned rather than let something stupid fuck it up.
“Have your man take it to my office, and I’ll be along shortly to look over the numbers,” I instructed.
Alexei relented. “Ah, I suppose you have a point. Better safe than sorry, right?”
I nodded, giving him a bone.
“You know, if we nail down the contracts, we could be kings this time next year.” He leaned forward, a hungry glint in his eyes. “You and me, the most powerful players this city has ever seen.”
In a den of predators, that was a lofty goal. New York drew monsters, sharks, and devils from all four corners of the earth. What Alexei was asking was to join forces and carve out a section for ourselves. It was a tempting offer.
But my home was elsewhere.
Maybe that made me a simpleton, craving my hometown. But I wouldn’t bleed for this place, wouldn’t fight with every breath to hold onto a kingdom born from war in any place but my home.
No…New York was a playing field to me. I made my money here. I paid the kings of the Big Apple their dues and left their legacies alone.
In exchange, they tolerated me doing business here. There had been no hit put out on me, no price on my head.
“I’m going to go look over those numbers.” I pushed to my feet. “I don’t want to lose the parcel.”
Alexei shifted his bulk and made to rise.
“Stay, moy drug.” I patted his thickly muscled shoulder as I walked past. “Enjoy the show.”
As I made my way to the back of the VIP area, I gave the manager a nod.
Derek lifted his walkie-talkie and barked an order.
The lights dimmed. Thunder crackled. And in a spray of lightning, the performers glided across the stage.
The limber dancers were first—always a crowd-pleaser with their newest routine.
The door banged closed, cutting off the cheers and whoops, plunging me into a blissful silence. I pinched my eyes shut, rubbing the gritty orbs. Sleep was a luxury. There was too much at stake.
Remember the game.
“Per sempre,” I breathed.
Those two words held life.
Energy burst through my veins, and I jogged up the back staircase. Instead of heading to my office, I dipped into the control room.
The tech triplets—three brothers who were veritable wizards—swiveled their heads in unison. Their pale skin hadn’t seen the sunlight in ages, and if it wasn’t for the scar on #3’s head, they would be nearly indistinguishable.
While they each had numerous legal aliases, to this day, I still didn’t know their real names. Since they referred to themselves in the order that they were born, I adopted the same mode of labeling them.
“Report.” I strode to the monitors and surveyed my investment.
#1 rattled off statistics. #2 pointed out a drunk pair of Wall Street suits, who were a potential problem. There were already bouncers closing in around them. But it was #3’s quiet observation that had me bristling.
“Boss, this one keeps fidgeting with his sleeve.”
I looked closely at the man in question. He seemed like a typical businessman, wearing a fine suit and looking the part of a big money spender. He was too clean. Too stiff.
“Fed?” I growled.
#3 shook his head. “Facial recognition pulled up an NYPD profile. A 97% match.”
Just a cop.
“Escort him out.” I didn’t tolerate them in my place of business.
“With pleasure.” #3 had an equal hatred for the breed. Especially since they’d nearly ended his life with a minor infraction that landed him as my cellmate.
I leaned over the control panel, scanning the crowd for anyone else.
Cops usually worked in pairs. #1 vacated his seat, and I took over the mouse.
It was a globe, round and solid under my fingers.
Technology was the first line of defense against the law that would take away our freedom over the slightest misstep.
My palm rolled over the ball, fingers clicking for closer views.
No one came into my house, bought my booze, and enjoyed my show, without my blessing.
I stopped short on a wide frame.
No….
But sure enough, the close-up showed the truth on the screen.
“Influencers, boss,” #2 supplied. “I have their social handles, metadata, and pertinent information. They’re just hyping up the club scene.”
All but one of them.
I stared at the blonde, who was lifting her glass in a toast. “How many drinks has that one had?”
#1 typed a code in the computer. The program ran frames of the security footage in a wicked fast search. “That’s her third cocktail, and she’s had two of the four rounds of shots ordered to the table.”
Che cazzo fai! The image from the security camera wasn’t good enough to see the glassy set to her eyes. But that was far too much alcohol for such a tiny little thing. Especially since I knew her, and she hadn’t slept well and no doubt hadn’t eaten enough today—if at all.
I clenched my fists.
The wild child was my kryptonite.
Makeup concealed the dark circles under her eyes. That waterfall of gold draped down her back. And that dress.
That fucking dress.
You shouldn’t be here, dressed like that. My jaw tightened. I panned the camera wider, confirming what I already knew in my gut. Not where men look at you like prey.
The low cut showed off tits that were begging to be fucked, while her ass was barely covered. My fingers itched to grab it, knead the flesh as I thrust into her and made her scream.
Hot, pulsing blood made my dick twitch greedily.
The group of girls abandoned their table and moved to the dance floor before the stage. I stared at the screen, eating up the sight. Her body was the thing dreams were made of.
Dancing? A dangerous game, cara mia.
I rubbed my jaw, debating my next move.
I’ll make sure they know who you belong to.
As if on cue, the vultures moved to pluck the girls off, one by one. I pushed to my feet.
“Make it rain,” I barked.
#1 pressed some buttons on the special effects board. “On it, boss!”