Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
ENZO
Ifind my brothers in the penthouse suite of our family’s hotel. Rafael is sprawled on the sofa, tossing a ball into the air and catching it repeatedly, while Luca stares out of the window.
“Is Micah in his office?” I ask them, more to get their attention than an answer.
This hotel is Micah’s domain, and he is always in his office.
Like me, he buries himself in his work, but him because he loves it, and me…
Well, it offers me the kind of oblivion I crave.
And there’s literally nothing I’m better at than taking out other people’s trash.
“Where else would he be?” Rafael jumps up from the sofa.
Meanwhile, Luca turns around, every movement slow and deliberate as usual. “What did Carmine want?” he asks, voice gruff from lack of use.
I jerk my head in the direction of Micah’s office, indicating they should follow me.
Luca eyes me with suspicion, which I get.
While it’s not often my brothers visit the don’s house with me, it is rare that he insists on speaking to me alone.
Yeah, I work for the don, we all do, but we have our own business interests to handle too.
Micah is on a call when we walk inside, and he quickly ends it. His eyes narrow on my face, as suspicious as our youngest brother. “Why did Carmine want to see you?”
Micah and Luca won’t like this, so best to just spit it out. “He wants the Bertellis handled.”
Micah leans forward, rests his elbows on his desk, and steeples his hands beneath his chin. The slightest twitch in his left eye is the only sign that he’s annoyed. “Handled?” His tone remains cool and calm.
I nod and drop into the chair opposite his desk. We all know there’s only one way Carmine Falcone handles people. “Did I stutter?”
“No, but did he? I know the guy is getting old and senile, but seriously, Enzo. He wants to take out a made family? Has he been tested for any signs of cognitive impairment recently?”
Rafael snorts a laugh. “Like that egomaniac would ever agree to anything like that.”
“He was being facetious, Rafael,” Luca says.
Rafael snarls at him. “That’s a real big word for you, baby brother, and you haven’t even had your meds yet.”
Luca simply flips him the bird.
“Can you two not?” I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Did you agree to do it?” Micah asks, bringing the conversation back to the relevant issue.
I shrug. “It’s kind of my job, Micah. What the fuck was I supposed to say?”
His expression remains neutral, but his nostrils flare slightly. Now he’s really pissed. “You know that you owe him nothing, Enzo. You don’t have to remain loyal to him. He is nothing without you, and everyone in this city knows it.”
“His reach goes beyond this city. He is the don, and that means he has people in places that I simply cannot be sure of. I can’t take that chance, so I will owe him for as long as he keeps his promise. And so far, he has.”
Rafael perches on the edge of Micah’s desk. “It’s been six years, Enzo. Why do you even give a fuck anymore?”
My hand darts out, wraps around his throat, and squeezes. It’s all instinct, honed for years by the kind of rage that changes a man’s entire being. “As long as I am breathing I will give a fuck, Rafael.”
His deep-brown eyes smolder with fury, but he doesn’t attempt to free himself from my grip. Not all of his anger is directed at me, I know. She was like a sister to them, and they were all hurt. “You’ve done more than enough.”
I swallow past the knot of grief and guilt and let my hand fall from his neck “It will never be enough, Raf.”
Micah clears his throat, dragging our attention back to the shitshow at hand. “So Carmine wants the entire family handled? That’s seven men, Enzo.”
No shit, Sherlock. Oscar Bertelli, his two sons, and four nephews. I can do math too. But I recognize that as my anger speaking, and that isn’t anything to do with Micah, so I keep that thought to myself. “Yeah, all of them.”
“There will be fallout,” Luca says quietly. “They have a few loyal men.”
“Not to mention, a sister and wives who might be hellbent on revenge,” Rafael says.
I shake my head. “Sephora hates her father and her brothers even more than Carmine does. Only Junior and Dimitri are married, and their wives hate them too.” Mistresses are more likely to run their mouths, but they’ll stay quiet out of fear of repercussion from the wives.
And as for their loyal men, the Bertellis buy their loyalty, they don’t earn it.
That loyalty will simply shift elsewhere for the right price.
As it always does. Loyalty and respect are the true currency of this city, not gold or poker chips.
Not everybody understands that, which makes it easier for those of us who do.
Micah is still staring, cogs of his brain working overtime. “Is Carmine unhinged enough to take the credit for this?”
I shake my head. “He wants it to look like the Russians did it.”
“Why?” Rafael asks.
“So that it doesn’t start a civil war, Raf,” Micah says.
“Just an all-out war instead,” Rafael says, unable to hide the hint of excitement in his tone.
Rafael thrives in chaos. Luca and Micah absolutely do not.
Me? I don’t live for anarchy, but I don’t shy away from it either.
Some say I have a death wish, and they might be right.
“Not if we play this the right way. The Volkovs have hated Joseph Bertelli since he killed that woman in their hotel.” Joseph Bertelli is Oscar’s oldest son and the next in line to be capo after him.
I’ve hated him since we were teenagers, and I almost killed him once.
Our fathers intervened and we called a truce, but I’ve despised him ever since.
“Ivan Volkov is the new pakhan and as such, is trying to prove himself. I know how much he wanted Joseph strung up by his balls for what he did, but the don would have none of it. A Russian hit looks credible, and maybe Ivan would even be willing to take the credit for a hit like that.”
Rafael hums his agreement. “If anyone would, it’d be him. Man has balls of steel.”
“And probably shit for brains,” Micah adds.
His relationship with Ivan’s predecessor, was strained to say the least, and so his dislike of the Russians runs deep.
“So, did Carmine tell you why he wants this done now? Oscar Bertelli has been a pain in his ass for decades, and I haven’t heard of any new offenses.
They seem to have kept their heads down since Joseph’s most recent incident. ”
I know he’s not downplaying what Joseph did, but the fact that the guy has racked up so many incidents in the past ten years is another reason I’ll enjoy ending his life. “Carmine says he’s finally had enough. Maybe Oscar just ran his mouth one too many times and now his time is up.”
“I heard some whispers,” Luca says, calmly. Quietly. Like he didn’t just drop a bomb into the conversation.
I twist around in my chair. “What kind of whispers?”
He rolls his neck and draws in a breath through his nose. “That Oscar has something on the don. Something dangerous.”
I scowl at him. “And you never thought to mention this?”
“I hear a lot of shit about a lot of people. I don’t tell you all of it. I assumed it was part of their longstanding pissing contest.”
“Where did you hear this, Luca?” Micah asks him.
He takes a few seconds to answer, and now I realize why he never told us. “At Frenchy’s.”
I roll my eyes and resist slamming my fist onto the table. “What have I told you about going to that place, Luca? One of these days you’re gonna get yourself fucking killed.”
He shrugs. “You have your demons, Enzo, and I have mine.”
“So, you heard it from a junkie whore?” Rafael snorts. “No wonder you kept it to yourself.”
Luca directs all of his attention to Rafael. “They’re not junkies or whores, Raf.” His tone is calm and collected, dripping with ice. He’s still. Composed. Serene. Which is when Luca is at his most dangerous.
Rafael snorts, aware of Luca’s growing ire but clearly not giving a shit. The last thing I need right now is those two rolling around the room fighting like teenagers.
“Enough!” I warn them both before addressing my youngest brother. “Was it credible, or just idle gossip?”
“Hard to tell. There’s a lot of chat about the don lately. Concern about his state of mind, especially since Pop died. A lot of people want him out of the picture, but nobody has the balls to stand up to him. So they all just talk shit about him instead.”
“But if Oscar actually does have something of substance on him, then it would be a good reason to have them taken care of,” Micah says.
Rafael folds his arms across his chest. “Or it’s just one rumor too many, and Carmine wants to put a stop to it.”
Both of those scenarios make sense. “I’ll be sure to ask Oscar what he has on the don before I kill him,” I assure them.
Rafael claps me on the back. “Could be something big enough to finally get you out from under that vicious cunt?”
“And then what?” I shake my head. “Another equally vicious cunt takes his place. Or worse, Vinny! And it never fucking ends, Raf. This is who we are and what we do.” There was a time when I thought there could be something more for me, but that was a stupid fucking pipe dream. This life is all I’ll ever be good for.
It’s Luca who speaks next. “You take his place. You’re the next in line, not Vinny. The only reason people don’t stand up to him is because he has you by his side, Enzo.” My youngest brother is a man of few words, and he always chooses them wisely.
“True,” Micah agrees.
I drop my head into my hands. “This is the way it has to be,” I remind them.
Yes, it’s true I’ve thought about slitting Carmine’s throat at least a thousand times, but I remember the promise I made him, and more importantly his warning that if anything ever happened to him, the contract between us would be null and void.
And then some faceless asshole somewhere would carry out the orders he and my father first gave six years ago.
I mentally shake off my melancholy and look to Luca, who’s watching me intently. “I’ll be needing some Makarovs.”
He nods. “On it.”
Rafael claps his hands together, always eager for any kind of action—the more dangerous the better. “So, when are we doing this?”
Ah, fuck. They’re definitely not going to like this. “Actually, Carmine wants this to be a discreet job. Just me and Vinny. Quick and clean, he said.”
Rafael barks out a laugh. “Quick and clean? That fat prick can barely shoot straight. More like real fucking messy.”
This isn’t the first job I’ve done with Vinny alone, but it’s definitely the biggest one I’ve taken on with him. To be honest, I’d prefer to work on my own if I’m not with my brothers. “Well, it’s what the don wants. Seems like he’s trying to groom him to eventually take over or something.”
Rafael shakes his head, his quick temper flaring to the surface. “It’s still fucked up, bro. Vinny is not the guy you want by your side when you’re taking out the Bertellis. Why the fuck would Carmine have us sit this one out?”
I don’t answer or voice my agreement with him, even though in truth I’m still bewildered by Carmine’s decision on this. But it’s not the craziest decision he’s made of late, and arguing about it isn’t going to change the outcome. “It’s happening. Get over it, Raf.”
Micah checks his watch and stands, fastening his suit jacket. “I have a meeting with the gambling commissioner in five. Care to join me?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather not.”
He smirks, knowing I hate any kind of formal meetings. It’s why he handles that side of the business. “Walk with me then.”
Rafael wraps an arm around Luca’s neck. “I guess that means I’m coming with you to find some Russian guns.”
Luca simply grunts in response, but the two of them head out together. While they bicker like children, they’re actually the perfect team. Micah waits until they’re out of earshot before he speaks again.
“Something about this seem a little off to you, Enzo?” he asks.
“Everything the don does feels off lately.”
He hums, deep in thought. “You’ll take precautions though, yeah?”
“I always do, brother.”
He winks at me, knowing full well the quiet moves I’ve been making for the past six years.
He’s a master strategist, and while I’m two years older than he is, he taught me all he knows in that regard.
Still can never beat the fucker at chess though.
He claps me on the back and then we make our way to the lobby.
I smell her perfume before I see her, that distinctive sweet vanilla fragrance that makes the back of my throat itch.
“Enzo, honey,” her voice comes from right behind me. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
I spin around bidding a brief goodbye to Micah.
“Vanessa.” I kiss her cheek and don’t say anything about the fact that I don’t need or want to give her any detail about my day-to-day movements.
We’ve had four dates. Fucked sometimes before and always after each of them.
And if she’s lucky, she may wring another four or five from me before I inevitably get bored.
“Massage?” she says, fluttering her eyelashes. “I’m on my lunch break.”
I take her hand in mine and kiss her fingertips, which smell more pleasantly of the fresh scented oils she uses in her job in our hotel spa. “Not today. I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Well, it’s wonderful to see you anyway, if only for a moment,” she says with a wide smile.
She doesn’t push me for more. Doesn’t pout.
She’s a smart one, Vanessa, knowing how easily I tire of women when they become clingy and get ideas about becoming more than just a dating partner.
It endears me to her a little. “I will see you on Thursday for our date though.”
She catches her lip between her teeth and practically purrs with delight. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I take a lock of her long blonde hair and curl it between my thumb and forefinger. “So am I.” It’s not a lie. I do still enjoy her company. She’s beautiful. Smart. The jealous type, but she works hard to hide it. Mostly though, I enjoy having my mouth or my cock buried in her sweet cunt.
She giggles. A man passing by openly stares at her, practically drooling.
I should gouge out his eyes for looking at what’s mine.
Except she’s not mine. I don’t want her.
Fun to fuck, absolutely. But nothing more.
Doesn’t matter that she agrees to my every demand, that she would be obedient and submissive and do whatever the hell I told her to do.
Doesn’t matter that she’s perfect girlfriend material.
None of that matters. Because no matter how hard I fucking try, every single time I fuck Vanessa—or any other woman for that matter—I think about her.