Chapter 3
THREE
T he Plaza Hotel is a place that boasts money and luxury in every sense of the word. Huge chandeliers dangling from above signify just how opulent the venue is, rich red carpets and drapes decorating the walls and floors like we’re royalty. In a way, we are. The Five have owned this city for decades, since before even my father was born.
Usually, we wouldn’t bother with such extravagance since it’s not a milestone birthday, but today isn’t just my birthday. Today, I officially take over from my father. It’s been a year in the making, and then some. I’ve spent half of my life following my father’s lead, learning everything there is to know about the world we live in. I’ve still got a lot more to experience, but from here on out, I’ll be at the helm.
In my father’s era, there were five families: Bonanno, Colombo, Lucchese, Gambino and Genovese. They worked as one to rule the city, and they did it well. My father took over from his uncle after putting a bullet between his eyes. I can’t say I’m at all shocked by that, since Axel Bonanno takes the idea of family extremely seriously. Turns out, my uncle didn’t share the same sentiment since he killed his own brother for his title. So, Dad took it upon himself to eradicate the poison in our family once and for all.
Now, there are only three families running New York: Bonnano, Gambino and Genovese. It’s a family tree kind of thing, because one of my uncles, Trigger Colombo, never had children. He passed down his legacy to Roman Genovese, even though he’s been working on the West Coast for the last five years.
Maxton Lucchese, my other uncle, adopted his daughter Gracie. He’s notoriously protective of her, so he refuses to let her take over from him. Instead, he’s passed down his legacy to Haldon Gambino.
We’ve all taken on more responsibility since their reign over the city, and things are a lot smoother now that we have more allies. Roman’s family is huge, with five uncles of his own that regularly help us run things. Since they were never part of the empire my father and uncles created, they’ve classed themselves as a syndicate; a branch of The Five.
And yes, even though there’s technically three now, we still call ourselves The Five.
Exhaling loudly, I make my way through the people that are here to watch me take the mantle, greeting everyone I pass with either a smile or brief handshake.
“Mayor Wymont,” I greet, holding out my hand to shake his. He’s a tall man, about twenty years my senior, and carries himself with all the power The Five grant him. I’ve met him a few times in the past—mainly with my father—and our conversations always boil down to how much of the city he can take back. Spoiler alert, it’s none. This city is run by us, whether he likes it or not. Both my dad and the Gambinos fund the campaigns of those they want in power until they succeed. Mayor Wymont has been in charge for several years now, and in exchange for our backing, he turns a blind eye to our businesses and anything else skirting the confines of the law.
“Mr. Bonanno,” he grins, shaking my hand. His words are filled with a familiarity that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “I was hoping we could discuss the upcoming elections, if you have a moment.”
I take a step back, keeping my cool even though he should know better than to ask for anything on an occasion like this. No doubt he’s trying to catch me in a good mood to favor his motivations, but he won’t get that from me. Unfortunately for him, I don’t have a good mood.
“Wymont,” I tut. “You know better than to approach a man at an event like this and ask for a favor.”
“It’s not?—”
“I’d be happy to discuss your ideas another time.” I step forward and rest my hand on his shoulder. It’s a total power move, one my father taught me, and it works exactly how I intend it to. “Get yourself a refill,” I say, nodding to Wymont’s empty glass.
When he doesn’t respond, I move away and head towards someone who won’t try to take advantage of me. I’m not completely new to this role; I’ve been enforcing for my dad for two years. My reputation follows me like a dark cloud, so I’m surprised that the likes of Wymont are deigning to test me.
I head back to the bar where Roman and Haldon are pouring out shots. Haldon spots me first, lifting his head in acknowledgement as I approach. His hand is already extended towards me, gripping a filled shot glass. I take it just as Roman turns.
“Congratulations, bro!” he remarks, fist bumping me before raising his beer bottle. “Officially part of The Five!”
I roll my eyes at my best friend’s sarcasm. We both know we were part of The Five long before tonight. It’s our birthright, something we were always destined for. Roman smirks back at me—always attempting to piss me off on purpose—before sinking back the remainder of his beer.
I let my gaze wander around the room. My parents are slow dancing together on the dance floor to some slow song that’s obviously accidentally slipped into Haldon’s playlist. I think it’s called ‘Shape of My Heart’ by The Backstreet Boys. My dad’s possessive hold on her never gets old, while she rests her head against his chest like she never wants to leave it. It’s sweet that even after all these years, those two are just as loved up as the day my mom was forced to represent him in court. My Aunt Lexie always reminds me of how those two met; how she was torn between wanting my mom to be happy, but wanting to protect her at the same time. Turns out, mom didn’t need protecting from my dad at all, because he did that himself. He does it on a daily basis, and not just with her.
He takes his fatherly role so seriously it’s almost suffocating. Well, for my sister it is. There's been a lot of tension between them ever since she announced she didn’t want to be a part of the family. I can’t blame her. Some parts of our world just aren’t designed for people with a moral compass, and Alanis is one of those determined to follow hers and pave her own path.
Returning my gaze to my best friends, Haldon raises his shot glass and winks. “We’ll move to Club Palma after this.”
The party is starting to wind down now, and I’d be remiss if I said I didn’t want to carry on elsewhere. Haldon and I spend a lot of time together, since Roman has been working over on the West Coast. He rarely spends longer than a weekend in the city before he returns, and I haven’t seen him for at least a year, so I want to make the most of this visit.
“Sounds good to me,” I reply, clinking my glass with Haldon’s. I turn to repeat the action with Roman, but his attention is elsewhere. I know exactly what he’s looking at—or who he’s looking at—just by the way his features soften. He and my sister had a thing a long time ago. It ended when he had to leave the city to help his dad in California, but before that, it was intense. They were so wrapped up in one another that they were inevitably going to be their own demise. Alanis took his departure hard, and she’s never forgiven him for leaving. Somehow, I don’t think that’ll stop Roman from trying to get her back.
I know I should be pissed that my best friend hurt my sister, but my twin is more than capable of handling her own shit. I’d fight and die for her, but some things she needs to navigate alone, and the last thing I want to do is get involved in their love/hate relationship. Alanis is too defiant to forgive, and Roman is too stubborn to let her slip through his fingers. It’s only a matter of time before they realize they’ll be their own downfall, and I just hope they don’t burn the city down in the process.
Sometimes I wish I had something like that; a love so powerful that it could beat the odds if I let it. But I know having that luxury comes with risks, and I can’t afford those. I can’t afford the distraction, so I keep to one-night stands. Although, I haven’t sunk my dick into anyone for a long time, because the very distraction I want to avoid is the constant bane of my existence. Every time I even think about a guy who isn’t him , my dick deflates. It’s like a fucking compass, and the only thing it’ll point to is Milo Kyrovsky.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I pull it out and glance at the screen, I let an irritated huff escape. The ‘north’ to my fucking dick compass.
Kyrovsky: The Docks. Midnight.
I type out my reply, not caring that I’m rejecting the Russian’s request because we’re way past the point of niceties. It’s almost like he gets off on that shit. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t feel the same, but that’s just another flaw I try to ignore.
Me: What for?
Milo’s reply comes instantly.
Kyrovsky: It’s a surprise.
I frown at my phone, not sure what game Milo is playing, but I’m not in the mood for it.
Me: Not tonight.
Kyrovsky: Scared?
Me: Of what?
Kyrovsky: Of what I might do.
I can practically see his smirk as he waits for my reply. Even after two years, I still have an irrational reaction to him. The attraction I thought would dissipate has only grown with every moment spent in his presence. I try to block it out—which is easier said than done when he’s around—but he makes it even harder when he pops up unexpectedly.
My hand clenches around my phone as I try to resist throwing it at the nearest wall. Bubbles dance across my screen as Milo types something else. It seems to last forever though, and my skin feels like it’s itching for the reply.
Before I let my irritation and impatience get the better of me, I pocket my phone. Kyrovsky doesn’t deserve my attention, not tonight.
Tonight, I want to enjoy my time with my friends, celebrating my new role within the family. The Russians can wait.
And with that thought in mind, I pick up another shot and throw it back. I relish the burn, allowing the alcohol to seep into my bloodstream. Everything else fades into the background as I close my eyes and listen to the gentle beats of ‘Not Above Love’ by Aluna George.
* * *
I t’s two in the morning by the time I stumble out of Club Palma. True to his word, Haldon moved the party on and we sank back even more shots. We celebrated not only my new role in the family, but Roman’s announcement that he’s here to stay.
After that, the rest of the night is a blur. At some point he disappeared, and I know exactly where he went. He and my sister have a lot of things to catch up on. Despite her clear hatred towards my best friend, I know that fire in her won’t last long. She might be stubborn, but if there’s one thing I know about my sister, it’s that she can’t resist Roman Genovese forever.
The shadows of the alleyway cling to me as I stagger outside, lighting up a cigarette as I let the cool air wrap around me. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes and inhaling, allowing the nicotine to swim through my veins and mix with the exorbitant amount of alcohol I’ve consumed.
“Bonanno.”
My eyes shoot open, searching the darkness for that familiar voice. I know exactly who it is before they’ve even stepped into view. The hint of an accent, the silky vibrations of his voice. My whole body shivers as he approaches. I spin around, brows furrowed as I pinpoint his location in the alley. It’s only when the footsteps grow louder that I can see where he is.
“What are you doing here?” I huff.
Milo steps out of the shadows, the single street lamp that lights up part of the alley exposing his gorgeously sharp and alluring features. Details that are so dangerously sexy that in my current state, I’m having trouble ignoring them. I lick my lips, but that only brings Kyrovsky closer, his mouth curling deviantly as he eats up the distance between us with his long strides.
“I told you we needed to meet,” he answers.
I take a long drag from my cigarette, the cherry lighting up Milo’s features as I suck. Puffing out a cloud of smoke, I watch it dance around his face before evaporating into the air. “Needed, or wanted?” I muse.
Even in my intoxicated state, I can tell he didn’t come here to discuss business. If he had, he wouldn’t be wearing a shit-eating grin that I want to smack off his face. This is the first time Milo has sought me out, though. I don’t know what that means, but it can’t be good.
Automatically, my hand slides over my Glock tucked into the holster beneath my jacket. I doubt I’ll need it, but you can never be too careful, especially when it comes to the Russians.
“Relax,” Milo smirks, stepping a little closer to me. His height should be intimidating since he’s got a couple of inches on me, but it’s his proximity that has my breath stuttering. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
The confidence in his words catches me off guard, along with the hidden meaning I know is there. “Then what’re you here for, Milo?”
Closing the last sliver of distance between us, he slides his hand over my chest. His proximity has me catching my breath. My heart pounds so hard that it feels like it might burst from the confines of my ribcage, but when he pulls out the cigarette packet from my inner pocket, I let out a shuddered breath.
Milo tucks a cigarette between his lips, smirking as he returns the pack to my pocket. “Originally, it was to discuss business, but I pride myself on following etiquette and approaching you about that now would be inappropriate, especially on your birthday.”
Fuck. I can’t help it when my brows furrow, searching for an explanation as to how the fuck he knows. It still doesn’t explain why he’s here, though. If he’s not here to talk business, why else is he standing in front of me at two in the morning?
“You’re stalking me?” It’s not really a question but more of a statement, one that he responds to with a confident nod.
He lights up the cigarette and takes a long drag. “Don’t go shy on me now, Bonanno.” He grins deviantly, expelling the smoke into my face.
There’s only so much of his arrogance I can stand, and I just about reach my limit when Milo licks his lips and takes another drag from one of my smokes. This is just typical of him; riling me up to the brink of lashing out. So many times, I’ve come close to releasing my anger, letting my rage take control of the situation, but I’ve always managed to rein it in. Unfortunately, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that tonight after all the drinks I’ve had.
To save ourselves, I step away from him and the anticipated heated situation. I’ve barely made it past his shoulders before Milo grabs me by my suit jacket and slams me against the wall. I grunt as he presses his chest against mine, our breaths mingling together.
Something dark swims in his gaze, a longing that I hate to admit I feel just as much. Being under the influence doesn’t help, and I’m struggling to get a hold of my self-control. He smells delicious; a tantalizing blend of aftershave and cigarettes.
For the longest moment, we’re locked in a staring contest, both deciding where we want to take this. His eyes fight silently against mine, and I don’t miss the heat that swirls between us.
“Mil—”
His mouth is on mine before I can even get his name out. Soft lips assault my own, and it’s not tentative like I’d expect. It’s full of desire, a lust that’s clearly been building between us for two years now. His hand moves from my chest to the back of my head, holding me firmly so he can take everything he wants from the kiss.
I go to push away, but Milo keeps me anchored, his hard body caging me against the side of Club Palma. He tastes of nicotine and bad decisions, yet despite every part of me knowing how wrong this is, I melt against him.
When his tongue slides against mine, my dick twitches and my self-control snaps. My hands grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer and closer. There’s no way I should be enjoying this as much as I am, but the blood rushing to my cock says otherwise.
It’s actually infuriating how reactive I am around Milo, and I didn’t realize how much I craved this until now. I can’t get enough of him. He has me trapped like his fucking prey, and suddenly I don’t want to fight him. I want more .
But before the kiss goes any further, Milo pulls back. His harsh breaths skate across my face as he rests his forehead against mine.
“What’re you doing?”
He frowns back at me like he’s confused by my question. The truth is, I don’t even know what I’m asking, either. Do I want him to stop? Do I want him to continue?
My head is so fucked up right now that even if I wanted to clarify, I can’t.
“You’re drunk,” he sighs, shaking his head.
The accusation has me shoving him away harshly, anger contorting my features as I take a step towards the smirking Russian. The fact he thinks he has morals only forces my next words out, because that’s one thing I know the Russians don’t possess. It’s not even in their damn vocabulary, so it’s laughable that this guy seriously thinks kissing me while intoxicated is an issue.
“You’ve got balls, Milo. I’ll give you that.”
His eyes light up with a sinful edge as he flicks his cigarette to the ground, not even bothering to stamp it out. “If you want to see them, all you’ve got to do is ask.”
I’m over this conversation now; over this entire interaction. “Get fucked,” I growl, shoving past him.
“All in good time,” I hear him mutter behind me.
It takes all my strength not to spin around and throw my fist at his face, but my anger has doused the inferno his kiss just ignited. I clench my fists and march away, silently cursing Milo and the fact my dick will not go down.
Fucking traitor.