Chapter 27
Coming Home
Oni
Three years later …
“Sembra buono,” I say to Carmine as he hands me my earnings report.
“Sì, sì. Emilio ne sarà molto contento. Ormai, da sei mesi di fila, sei la sua risorsa più redditizia.”
I smile in satisfaction. I’ve actually been Emilio’s top earner for seven months in a row. I just didn’t say anything the first two months.
Emilio knew. He flew here himself to praise me for it. I’m about to turn nineteen and I already manage one of the most lucrative art operations in Italy.
Not to mention the other business dealings Emilio trusts me with. With Frederico by my side, I think I have surpassed all their expectations. I even have my own crew.
I run shit. Emilia has been my ears as I rise in power. There isn’t anywhere here I can’t go without people knowing who I am and who I’m connected to.
Emilio has stayed true to his word. You would think I was the man’s second daughter. While sending me to private school with Emilia, he has allowed me to learn the business from Fredrico on the side.
The first two years, I focused on my schoolwork. This year has been all business. It’s all I could do to stay focused on something other than Rico.
I miss him, but knowing this is all for him to become Don drives me day in and day out. That and the fact that I plan to make Mason pay for trying to have me killed, raped, and setting Rico up to go to jail.
There will be no peace for the Sullivans when I get back to New York. I’ve been waiting for the day to come when I can return. That day is here.
“Oni, we need to leave. Papa will have a fit if we miss our flight,” Emilia whines as she walks into my office.
I only came in here to grab my tablet. Carmine caught me off guard with the reports. He was excited when I walked in.
“Sì, sì. Devi andare. Mi dispiace. è una buona notizia. Vai pure,” Carmine says.
“You don’t have to apologize. It is good news. I will talk to you soon. Ciao.”
I grab my tablet and head out with Emilia. I can’t help reaching up and touching my new pixie cut. I left it longer on the top, but the back and sides are really low.
It’s a far cry from the braids I used to wear. This haircut matches my vibe these days. A lot has changed about me.
In some ways, the old Oni did die. I take a deep breath as I settle into the back of the car. I can only hope Rico will forgive me.
Emilia reaches over to cover my hand with hers. “It’s going to be all right. He will be happy to see you. Love will make him forgive you; it’s my father he’ll hate.”
“I hope you’re right. He’s been out for two years. I thought I would have been back with him by now.”
“In those two years, he’s been more focused and driven than ever. He’s different, but so are you. I think now is the perfect time for your return.”
“Why now? Do you know?”
She turns away from me and clears her throat. My stomach sinks. She knows, but she’s not going to tell me and that’s what scares the shit out of me.
“At least tell me if he’s okay.”
“He’s fine, I guess. Always angry but fine. You will see.”
Rico
I stumble into my Brooklyn apartment at five thirty in the morning. It’s been a long night. I’ve been working harder to earn in the last six months.
Someone has been outearning my crew, but Uncle Emilio won’t tell me who. I’ve been working double time to take my spot back.
“I need to figure this shit out,” I mutter to myself.
I know it’s not Fredo and his crew. He’s been struggling and trying his best to figure things out. That’s no surprise; I figured that was going to happen.
“If not Fredo, then who?” I muse as I loosen the buttons of my shirt.
Al and Ed have been working under me, learning the ropes and treading the line until they’re ready to move up. My cousins are smart, but they’re just not ready to take on their own crews.
All the older guys are complacent. Which leaves me to wonder who the fuck has been trying to outshine me. That shit is nagging at me.
Uncle Emilio is still up to his old tricks. Why make me aware that I’m coming in second if he’s not going to tell me who’s ahead of me? Why not at least give me a chance to know what they’re doing to earn so I can outearn them or study their moves?
“Fuck him,” I mutter to myself.
I haven’t come in second since my father left. He’s not back, so this can’t be him. Besides, I took over most of his operations.
I’m too exhausted for this shit. I need a good night’s sleep and a fifth of something strong. Something to knock me off my ass.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. I pull it from my pocket and roll my eyes as I see it’s Uncle Emilio. I already know what he’s calling for.
I’m thinking about proposing to Salvator Romano’s youngest daughter. It’s not a love match. I will never fall in love again.
I want Romano’s connections and his docks. Alyissa Romano is pretty enough; she’ll make nice arm candy as a little Mafia princess, but that’s where things will end. I don’t fuck.
I would have to get hard for that. The only way I’ve been able to get hard in the last three years is if I picture her. I’m not willing to do that with another woman.
That shit makes me sick to my stomach, so I don’t fuck. Not that I don’t have plenty of ass thrown at me. I’m too broken to care or want to care.
If I were to marry Alyissa, she would have to accept the fact that there will be no sex. I’d keep her happy with gifts and shopping sprees. That would have to be good enough. Though I doubt that’s what she’ll want.
It’s the biggest reason I haven’t given her father a commitment. If not for that, I would have by now. Uncle Emilio hates the idea of me taking her for my wife.
I think that’s what’s driving me to want to do it more. I’ve almost convinced myself that it will be worth it and I’ll be able to go through with it. After all, it was his choice that took the love of my life from me.
“God, I miss you so fucking much, baby.”
I get to the bar in my home and grab a tumbler. As I go to grab a bottle, my phone rings again. This time it’s from a number I don’t know.
Given the hour, I don’t ignore it this time. This could be business or a problem I need to handle. I answer and lift it to my ear.
“Don’t hang up,” Uncle Emilio says.
“What?” I roar into the phone.
“Lose the attitude. This is the call. A car is downstairs.”
With that, he hangs up. I stand with my mouth hanging open. He’s opening the books.
I’m getting the promotion. Finally, I’m a made man. I’m one step closer, baby. This is for you.