Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
EMILIANO
W e’re in a meeting with four out of the ten underbosses. “I just don’t see the use of paying off the cops in my ci-” My eyes narrow at Vincent Colombo, the underboss of Baltimore as I cut him off with a warning.
“It’s the Camorra’s city, not yours, Colombo, and paying off the fucking feds is part of it. You need to make sure they keep sniffing out of our business, or this could end badly for you and them.”
“Emiliano, how are the plans for our retaliation on the Outfit going?” My uncle, Guliani asks me to try to distract from the fact that Vincent is showing blatant disrespect due to my Pop's death.
My uncle clears his throat.
I turn to him and say, “The plans are going well. We’re going to make our way to Chicago after this meeting. Our inside intel has told me that we have the building under our control.” I’m being vague on purpose. This plan is between my team and me. No one else. This is my revenge. I stand and button my suit jacket.
“This meeting is over. For now,” I declare as I look around at the four underbosses, then Romiro and Lucio. Colombo, being an idiot and not knowing when to shut his mouth, speaks up.
“We still haven’t discussed the cocaine shipment that’s meant to go through Baltimore. But, of course, you wouldn’t remember that since you’re still a-”
He doesn’t finish his sentence and he never will. Romiro jumps up from his seat and swears under his breath as he tries to avoid getting blood on his suit, running his hand down his tie. I stride toward the door and walk into the corridor, steps echoing as I make my way to the exit.
“Jesus, what the fuck, Emiliano? He’s the underboss of one of the Camorra’s most important cities, you can’t just shoot him like that,” Romiro says with a huff as he trails behind me, Lucio at his side. I stuff my gun back into its holster.
“Was.” Romiro gives me a puzzled look, so I repeat, “He was the underboss of one of the most important cities to the Camorra. Now he’s a sack of meat and bones.”
“And skin,” Lucio adds with a grin. Romiro shakes his head at both of us.
“As Capo, I can do as I see fit. Understood?” I say, Romiro nods and changes the topic.
“The place is secured; our guy has the system hooked to the control panel and the men have got the place surrounded,” he tells me, and I give him a curt nod.
“I want to go with you, guys,” Lucio says as we get on the elevator and head to the bottom floor.
“No.” I shake my head.
Lucio frowns and demands, “You’re being an asshole. Come on, let me come with you, guys.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t care if I’m being an asshole. You’re not old enough for this.” But the little shit doesn’t let it go.
“I am old enough,” he argues and, thankfully, Romiro cuts him off.
“You’re not even old enough to drink, let alone come with us. This is a very intricate plan. You, Little Lucio, aren't prepared for it.”
I snort at Romiro’s use of the word ”little.” Lucio is anything but little. At nineteen, he’s already up to my neck, and I’m 6 '5”. Lucio punches Romiro’s left arm, which he returns with a punch of his own. They continue back and forth until we’ve reached our cars.
“Get Costa on the phone. I want an update on Dom’s health,” I tell Lucio as I get into my red Maserati.
He nods and replies, “I texted him an hour ago, but I’ll tell him you’re expecting a call.”
* * *
I rub my hands together as I watch the screen showing Moretti and the sorry asses they call “security” walk into the Via Veneto club. My eyes stay focused on my target. Little ‘Bellissima’ Moretti.
That name doesn’t even come close to describing her. Her long ebony hair is in soft waves down her back and her lips are painted a vampy red, making her tan more prominent. It’s not a chore to pay attention to only her.
I wait for the signal from Romiro to tell me when Moretti finishes his stupid ego boosting speech so I can step in. I begin working on the logistics of our legit business. Folonari’s Enterprises.
My phone rings, picking it up without taking my eyes off the screen.
“Si.”
“They’ve arrived and are mingling with their guests now. Moretti just finished his sad excuse of a speech,” Romiro informs me.
“I’m in the security room in the opposite building,” I tell him.
“I’ll be down in a bit.” My jaw clenches when one of the tied-up security guards starts mumbling something. I pull my gun out and put the silencer on. No one will hear it from this distance and the place is full of people. His eyes widen to the size of saucers as he takes in what I am about to do and starts thrashing, trying to get free. A bullet pierces right between his eyes, and his body instantly slumps forward, blood pooling underneath him. It takes me all of five minutes to get into the building without being tracked by any of the Morettis or their security.
I stand off to the side near the receptionist’s desk, which is empty waiting for the signal, but to my surprise, Little Moretti has come out of the room all by herself. She doesn’t see me, as she's lost in her thoughts, turning into a corridor on the other side of the receptionist’s desk.
I wait for a bit before heading after her, messaging Romiro about the changes in the plan.
Eli
Change of plans, she’s gone to the restroom. I’m going to follow her. I’ll call you when I secure the target.
Rom
Whatever you say, bro, but just be quick; it seems that the Moretti bastard wants to leave to go to some restaurant to discuss more business.
Eli
Tucking my phone back into my suit jacket, I run my fingers through my hair. As I push open the door, she’s making her way toward it. Her brow furrows when she sees me standing in her way. God, her fucking face looks even more heavenly in person, high cheekbones, almond-shaped, honey-colored eyes.
“Um...sir, this is the women's restroom. The men’s is down the corridor,” she tries to explain to me, her voice sweet like summer fruit, soft like silk, almost seductive. For fuck’s sake, I need to get laid if I’m getting distracted by the enemy’s voice. I give her a pointed look, and in response, she raises a black eyebrow at me. Reaching into my suit jacket pocket, I pull out my phone, calling Romiro without taking my eyes off her.
“Target secured.” I speak loud and clear enough for her to hear what I said as my eyes travel down her short black dress, leaving her tan legs on display. I can see her taking in my appearance as well. A scowl transforms her expression as she directs it my way, which almost makes me laugh. She resembles an angry puppy.
“If you're one of my dad’s bodyguards, you need to wait outside, not in here.”
I don’t reply to her assumption, but I give her a twisted smile. The lights in the restroom finally go out, and if the guys did their job right, they should be out in the whole damn building. I can’t see her face, but I can feel when she realizes who I really am. The enemy.
I take three silent steps to where I know she’s still standing and grab her arm, pushing her into the wall. I put my left palm over her mouth before she can scream and lean over to speak near her ear.
“Be a good girl and I won’t have to hurt you.”
She smells of amber and sweet cinnamon. I feel her nod, so I draw myself back from her, but I don’t let my grip go and my palm remains on her lips.
Dragging her out of the restroom, we hear the commotion down the hall. I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and, as expected, she screams.
“Mom! HELP ME!”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics. What else did I expect from the Moretti girl? As I walk toward the back exit, I don’t rush myself, but I feel tiny hits on my back. What. The. Fuck. Is she seriously hitting me?
“Stop it,” I command, but she doesn’t listen, so I smack her upper thighs just under her ass. That gets her to stop and curse at me.
“Fuck you, asshole,” she seethes, and I inhale through my nostrils and pray to God for some patience. I’ll need it if I want to leave with her alive.
We reach the back door and find Romiro waiting for us. His eyebrows reach the top of his hairline, and I shake my head at him, jerking my chin at the door, which he opens. The door leads us to the alleyway that’s secured by my men, a car is waiting for us.
“Romiro, the cloth,” I say to him as I put Valentina down. He passes me the cloth, which is doused with chloroform. She tries to push me, and Romiro and Silvio try to grab her.
“Touch her, and I’ll cut off both your hands,” I growl at them, and they both step back. I grab her by the waist and put the cloth over her mouth, and within seconds, she is out. Putting one arm under her head and the other under her knees, I walk over to my car with her in my arms. I turn toward Romiro when I hear multiple footsteps coming from down the walkway.
“The Morettis seem to have pulled their heads out of their asses and figured out their daughter was gone,” I say before I slide into the driver's seat and promptly drive out of the other end of the alleyway, heading towards the highway. Romiro should be on his way behind me so we can board the jet at Columbus, Ohio.
I call Romiro once I’m on the highway. “Are you on the highway yet?”
“No, not yet,” he says, and my eyebrows pull together.
“Why the fuck not?”
“It turned into a bloodbath. We lost two of our men and Moretti’s son was shot.” What?
“Isn’t he five years old?” I ask, trying to maintain a calm voice.
“Yes,” he confirms. Fuck.
“I instructed everyone to keep the fucking women and children out of the fucking shooting. Who the fuck shot a child? Is he dead?” I hit the steering wheel, nostrils flaring.
“No, he’s not. He was shot in the shoulder. I’ll have Beneditto, Luigi, and Tito in the cells in the OX once we’re in New York. I’ll deal with them,” he promises.
“No. I’m dealing with them myself.” I cut the call without waiting for a response. It wasn’t a question; it was a command. I scratch my throat while trying to clear my mind enough to focus on the road.
* * *
It’s been an hour since we left the city, when the Moretti brat decides it’s time to open her eyes. I watch as she tries to get up in the back seat, looking confused and disoriented.
She runs her palms sluggishly over her dress, as if to check for any signs of force—as if I’d assault her. Her breathing picks up as she tries to sit up once more with effort, shifting back and forth in her seat.
I’m hoping to drive her to the brink of madness.
She’ll probably be easier to control like that, and once she returns to the Outfit, they’ll have lost whatever deal they had with the Colombians. Who’d want a crazy woman?
Her eyes finally drift to where I am sitting, and she speaks up.
“Where are you taking me?” Her voice comes out a bit croaky, so she clears her throat.
“That’s not for you to know. Now sit back because we’ve got half an hour till we reach the first destination. Don’t try to pull anything off. I can break you in half with one move.” The threat is a lie, of course. I would never hurt her. I shake off that thought. She’s still the enemy.
To my surprise, she obeys and sits back while maintaining eye contact with me through the rear-view mirror. Her honey-colored eyes are now a deep chocolate brown. Dark and delectable. Swallowing, I move my eyes back to the road ahead of me.
“I thought we weren’t at war with you.” She breaks the silence. I look back at her through the rear-view mirror and give her a crumb of information.
“Your cugino had killed some of our most loyal men.” A look of calculation passes over her face before she seems to have figured out whatever puzzle she was trying to solve.
“You know.” It wasn’t a question, but I thought the Outfit didn’t involve their women in mafia business.
She shakes her head and says, “No. We’re not allowed to know, or even mention, the Outfit’s business. So, I’m of no use to you.”
“We’re looking for an exchange for something, not information. We have all the information we need.” I don’t know why I told her that, but I don't look back at her the rest of the ride to the Camorra’s private takeoff and landing strip. After another ten minutes of driving in silence, we finally reach Columbus Airport, and I park my car and turn my body to look her in the eyes.
“I am going to get out and open your door. No one here will help you. This is my city, my rules and my people. So, behave, and I won’t have to harm you.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “This is the third time you’ve threatened me. Don't you think it’s going to lose its effect?”
I run my hand through my hair and tug a bit to get some sense of calmness.
“Who are you?” she asks, and my eyes move back to her.
“Who do you think I am?” I ask her, curious.
She shrugs. “A soldier of the Camorra, I suppose.”
A mocking laugh leaves my lips, and I turn to get out, but she grasps my upper bicep. When I look at her sharply, she pulls her hand back as if I had burned her. That’s what the simple touch felt like for me, at least.
“Why did you laugh at that? Who are you?” she asks again, and I open my door, but before stepping out, I say the one thing nobody wants to hear.
“Your worst nightmare.”
* * *
Romiro arrives an hour after us, looking disheveled with his blond curls all over the place, his bottom lip busted. He nods at me and heads straight to the mini bar near the two flight attendants who look frightened and scurry to the back. I hide a smirk with my palm, but Romiro spots it and flips me the bird. He drags his feet across the hardwood floors of the jet.
Valentina comes out of the bathroom and stops in her tracks, as if she’s taken aback when she spots Romiro. Romiro ignores her as he grabs his glass of bourbon and makes his way to the seat next to me.
“What are we going to do with her when we get home?” He jerks his chin toward Valentina after taking a sip. He doesn’t make an effort to lower his voice, and she flips him off and drops onto one of the seats on the other side of the jet.
I shrug my shoulders and say low enough just for him to hear, “Get Matteo on the phone. I want him to set up the dark net link up and send it to Alvize Moretti’s phone when I tell him.”
Romiro groans. “Matteo’s a brat. All he does is fuck about. He doesn’t listen to anyone but you. Why don’t you call him?”
“Because I fucking have shit to get done. Call him while I deal with her.” I get out of my seat and head toward Valentina, who’s trying to convince the flight attendant to help her. Yeah, she has better luck convincing the devil to repent.
“Leave,” I order the flight attendant, who scurries away. Valentina glares at her back, then directs the glare to me before she faces forward. I sit in the seat next to her and lean over the armrests. She refuses to look at me, but I continue to look at the side of her face, taking in the slope of her button nose and the small jut of her chin.
Her lashes caress her cheeks every time she blinks. She finally breaks the silence. “Go away.”
“No can do.” Her eyes narrow slightly, but she still doesn’t turn to look at me.
“You know, as much as I love this little game of yours, I don’t have time to entertain a little spoiled Moretti brat,” I grit out. Romiro snorts, but quickly covers it with his palm when I throw a glare his way.
Valentina’s head whips around to face me, and she seethes. “You pompous ass, you-”
I cut her off with a laugh. “Did you just say pompous? Who the fuck says that?”
She turns beetroot red and shifts her face forward again. Narrowing my eyes at her, I turn her face back to me with two fingers under her chin, which she slaps away.
“Watch it, Moretti. Just because I am treating you as a gentleman should treat a woman, that doesn’t mean that you’re not the enemy, or that you’re not the hostage in this situation. Never let yourself forget that.”
Just as I’m about to get up, the sign for us to put our seat belts on to depart comes on. She sees it as well and sighs as she buckles herself in.
“Mr. Folonari, we’re ready for departure if you want to leave now.” The pilot's voice comes out of the sound system, and I press the button that’s located at the side of the seat I’m in to indicate that we’re ready.
I can see the moment Valentina realizes who I am. Her eyes widen as she turns her head to me, then quickly to the cabin door, looking lost for words. Interesting.
She knows my name, but not how I look. I’m not exactly as popular as her and her sisters with the press. My temper gets the best of me when they get in my face, and they end up with their cameras left in pieces on some sidewalk in Brooklyn.
“Glad to see you’re able to put things together yourself without needing someone to spell it out for you,” I remark sarcastically, which she clearly doesn’t like, as she pinches my hand that’s on the armrest at her side.
She fucking pinched my hand. Romiro seems to have seen the whole thing go down because he bursts out laughing.
“Shut the fuck up, Romiro.” I grip her jaw in my hand. “Need I remind you why they call me the butcher of the East, or will you behave?”
She looks at me with her eyes full of defiance, defiance I want to squash. When her hand pushes mine off her jaw, I let her do it. My phone buzzes, and I see that Romiro has texted me.
Rom
So it’s definitely not love at first sight? Right?
Eli
Shut the fuck up.
You’re an idiot.
Rom
Oh, come on. You can’t blame me, look at that face.
Eli
Romiro, for the love of everything that’s holy. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
Rom
No. Thanks.
Oh, yeah, btw you have some paperwork to go through.
Eli
What kind of paperwork?
Rom
It’s the contract for the jewelry company to supply precious gems for other chains.
Eli
Send it over.
Rom
FolonariJewelscontract.PDF
I press on the file; it loads for a couple of seconds before opening. Reading through it, my eyes ache from going over the same paragraph repeatedly. Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what, but I have a feeling in my gut and my gut is never wrong.
I wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off before I get up and grab her arm, tugging a bit. She gets the hint and tugs out of my grip to unbuckle her seat belt.
I’m grabbing her arm again after she’s done unbuckling and heading toward the back of the jet, where a room is located. Dragging her in, I slam the door behind us and hold her against it.
“Behave yourself and act like a dignified human and I won’t have to tie you up. There’s two hours left of this flight. You’re going to stay in here and behave yourself like a good girl,” I tell her. She juts her chin out and crosses her arms across her chest while narrowing her honey eyes.
“Or what?” she challenges me.
I close my eyes and take a lungful of air in, counting to five in my head.
“Or, when we get to the place we’re heading, I’ll hang you upside down by your pretty little feet and let you dangle like that till you learn some manners.”
Her face turns red again, but this time with anger.
“Manners, yeah, because I’m the one who needs to learn fucking manners. You kidnapped me, asshole. You need to learn some manners.” She emphasizes her point by driving one finger into my chest. A strand of hair falls over her forehead, and I reach and push it behind her ear like it’s a natural reflex. My eyes widen and so do hers. Shaking it off, I grab her hand and move her out of the way, shutting the door behind me and locking it to get some peace of mind. She bangs on the door once, but then stops.
Romiro gives me a smirk, but I shake my head at him and continue toward the mini bar to grab a tumbler of whiskey, then drink it in one go. I can already see a lot of drinking in my future if I’m going to deal with that brat from hell. With a deep breath, I go back to my seat next to Romiro.
“Is the cargo ship arriving tomorrow morning at the Agnes?” I ask, Romiro turns to me and nods before elaborating.
“Yes, but there’s talk about the Vipers attacking.”
“From whom?” My lips curl.
“Dmitri Orlov.”
That has me cracking my knuckles.
“The shipment will arrive as scheduled. If the fucking MC want to try anything, then they can, but they won’t be alive by the end of the week,” I reply. Romiro looks behind at the door, where I locked Valentina, and then looks back at me.
“She’s going to be a handful, I suppose.” He’s treading on thin ice and knows it.
“Did you call Matteo?” I change the subject.
“He’s not picking up,” he answers after drinking the rest of his bourbon. I pull out my phone and call Matteo myself.
“Get Boris to roughen her up. I want Moretti to feel like there’s a fire under his ass when he sees the live feed of his precious, sheltered daughter being treated like the garbage that he should be treated like,” I tell Romiro, who nods at me. My gut clenches and something akin to guilt swirls in my gut. She’s innocent .
But she’s her Dad’s daughter, and her Dad is certainly not innocent.