3. Pietro #2
I drum my fingers against my knee. “So Petrovi? wants revenge on us? Now? That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?
” I pause, my eyes narrowing. “I know the Morettis have every reason to be pissed over our alliance with the Russians. But I thought you had a truce with him after that mess and that Abigail was off-limits. So, tell me, what’s the status of Abigail? ”
Renalto stiffens at the mention of his fiancée. “She’s safe.” Renalto nervously runs his hand over the stubble on his chin. I’m sure he’s a mess with this news breaking before his wedding day.
Matteo lets out a dark chuckle. “For now.”
Renalto glares at him, but I know Matteo isn’t just being a bastard for fun.
He’s reminding us all that safety is an illusion in our world.
Stefano Moretti isn’t just taking over what’s left of his family’s empire.
He’s making moves and burning through anyone who might stand in his way.
It’s the right move if Petrovi? is waging a war with him.
He’s flexing his muscles to stave off an attack.
But if Abigail becomes a target, there might not be a wedding to celebrate.
Damn, there’s never a dull moment. I stepped off the plane in a sea of tranquility, and now I’m tossed into the fray.
Gio pulls onto an exit ramp, and in minutes, we’re winding over worn roads, and the landscape changes from cityscapes to suburbia as we make our way toward the Borrelli estate on Long Island.
It’s a sprawling property behind iron gates, and it’s set off the main road and away from prying eyes and unwanted questions.
“The problem is, we don’t know Morettis endgame, or Petrovi?s for that matter.
In fact, if the Morettis are at odds with him, it would weaken them, and we could take some of their territory.
It’s still unclear if they fucked each other hard and made up or if Petrovi? is still on the warpath.
So far, we don’t have any trustworthy intel.
But, then again, perhaps the Morettis are making new alliances, and we don’t know who they’ve aligned with,” Matteo states.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I doubt the Irish want to get in the middle of that. But we need to find out. What can I do to help?”
Matteo grins— the sharp, dangerous kind that means he’s already five steps ahead. “Already working on it.”
And that is why Matteo is the head of the family. The man is calculating, like our father, but he’s not evil, and that’s why we love and trust him. He keeps his emotions on ice and makes decisions that benefit the family.
I, for one, know how easy it is to make an emotional decision, which is why I’ve remained unattached.
I’m the family’s lone wolf by choice. Because when you’re emotional, you tend to act on impulse, and that’s a luxury we don’t have.
Every move means something. And sometimes, the consequences can take months, even years, to materialize.
Every word, every choice—hell, even every feeling—comes with a price.
If a fortress qualifies as such, the car rolls to a stop outside the estate.
Gio parks the Hummer. I look out the window and can’t suppress my chuckle.
The driveway looks like a who’s who of the top ten billionaires.
And considering the price tag of the cars sitting here, we’d have a difficult time denying our extreme wealth.
Matteo’s is a fortress dressed as a castle.
It’s made of stone and marble, guarded by men who would die for our family.
I step out, inhaling deeply, letting the cool country air fill my lungs.
I spent too much time away from my brothers, but it’s been a busy year.
It felt weird living in Sicily without them.
I suppose our father’s death changed the course of our lives forever.
“Is Bianca going to be here for the wedding?” I ask. Our sister is impeccably dressed and always poised. She moves like a woman who knows the power of beauty and how to weaponize it.
Fashion isn’t just her passion; it’s her armor.
Beneath the designer heels and flawless eyeliner is a mind trained to calculate exits, assess threats, and, if necessary, eliminate them.
“Yes, she’s been in and out of the city,” Matteo volunteers. Bianca and I used to be thick as thieves—closest in age, closest in everything .
But after she left home, she started drifting. She showed up less and less.
The bird was out of the cage, I guess.
She’s always been the type to stay in touch and is always quick to call or text to check in, which is why her silence now concerns me.
“How is the club progressing?” I ask, knowing that Alena, Matteo’s wife, has been designing the interior for the grand re-opening. I’m the money man who knows how to launder money and handle our investments.
I let the family think I was a monk while I lived in the vineyard.
It’s mostly because I’m an introvert by nature.
I enjoyed my time nestled away in the Sicilian vineyard, but I’ve since grown tired of it.
Every day has turned into a clone of the one before.
So, when the club came up, I volunteered to manage it.
The women I encounter fall at my feet; honestly, it’s monotonous. They all blur together with flawless smiles, curated curves, and Botoxed faces—right down to the designer perfume that clings like desperation.
They laugh a little too loudly, touch a little too quickly, and offer themselves up like gifts wrapped in expectation.
They don’t want me —not really.
They want the fantasy. The money. The name.
The man in the suit, not the scars underneath it.
Now that I have a niece and two nephews, it’s time to help my brothers keep their families safe. This made my decision to move to New York the logical next step. Besides, with me taking over the club, Matteo and Niccoló will have more time to spend with their families.
“The club is incredible. You’ll love it. The interior features a dark purple and black color scheme. We also created a lounge area. We also have rooms for events. Alena’s doing great, even if Lorenzos runs her ragged. He’s a terror even as a toddler.”
I’m picturing Studio 54 when Matteo speaks. Far be it from him to do anything low-key.
I follow my brothers inside the fortress with gargoyle statues on the towers as the weight of my new responsibilities settles onto my shoulders like an old friend. Soon, we’ll be decked out in tuxedos, with a plethora of expensive champagne flowing amongst the whispers of promises to last forever.
But tonight?
Tonight, we will discuss how these potential threats may impact us. I get the feeling that we’re on the brink of a war with the Italians or the Serbs, and if so, there will be many casualties. The loss of life is one, and the financial aspect is another.
And something tells me I arrived just in time to help my family navigate the brewing storm.