Luca
THE TABLE
I stood inside my office thirty minutes early, my hands rested behind my back as I watched the city stretch beneath me through the floor-to-ceiling glass that wrapped around the east side of Downtown L.A.
fifteen floors up. My father invested in so many sky-scraping buildings including Bonetti Corp, which was his favorite piece of property.
People called it a redevelopment project, thinking it was a corporate tower that got abandoned.
But my father saw opportunity in this building dressed up in neglect.
I remember the first time he brought me inside, thinking it was just a building.
He corrected me by telling me it was a system, and then months later he rebuilt it like one.
By the time the city reopened its eyes to it, the tower had a new name and reputation.
On paper, it was a luxury mixed-used development with high-end offices on lower floors.
We had tech startups renting out glass-walled spaces and private medical practices on the sixth floor.
I just added a members-only financial firm on the first floor.
The top floors were exclusive penthouses that only the elite could afford or be invited to live in.
It was all legal, profitable, and most importantly… Untouchable. What they didn’t see was how every floor had two versions of itself. The version with cameras, keycards, and smiling receptionists. And then there was the version behind it all that only my table and I knew about.
Which was the hidden hallways that didn’t exist on the blueprint of this building.
Over the years we added elevators that only responded to certain fingerprints.
Entire floors masked as “under renovation” that never seemed to open but were always in use.
Deals on the backend didn’t happen in boardrooms; they happened in soundproof glass boxes like the one I was standing in now.
My father was a mastermind, who turned this building into a kingdom where one would never guess what it truly was.
Money moved through this place effortlessly, hidden in plain sight.
All investments looked legitimate because they were funded by things that weren’t.
My father crawled through mud and cleaned the path for me and Roy to run things smoothly without all the stress and wars he went through to get it to this point.
I turned away from the window, my eyes flickered over toward the cherrywood double doors that were closed.
A long black conference table sat in the middle of the room with seven chairs lined on each side, and one at the head.
One of the changes I made was all meetings being held here instead of my father’s estate.
I wouldn’t bring mafia business to my home where the twins resided nor bring it to where Lucille was.
My plan since I got out of prison was to cut her out of all business concerning my new table.
The mistake my father made was letting her have a voice and turning a blind eye to what he knew to be true with her all along… Disloyalty.
I inhaled the smell of leather before the doors opened.
Roy stepped in first as always. I could depend on Roy to be punctual and on top of everything.
Normally, he walked in carrying a half-crooked smile; today, he didn’t.
His navy suit jacket was pressed sharp across his muscular frame, with a black button-down shirt slightly open.
Lucille got to him… I thought, inwardly shaking my head.
Roy hated wearing ties with his suits. Half the time he wore either a plain collared shirt or the suit jacket with a button-down shirt.
When he was in a non-caring mood, Roy boldly wore the suit pants and jacket with no damn shirt.
He nodded his head in my direction then sat in the last chair close to where I always sat.
I watched him for a few seconds before speaking.
“You alright?” I signed to him briskly.
“I’m good, Luke.” He smirked, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“Who’s Luke?” I frowned, ignoring the sharp shards of pain shooting up my throat since I decided to use my voice.
Roy shook his head, and for a split second, I saw signs of weariness cross his face before it went void of any signs of emotions.
“We got some shit with us, Luke.” He pressed with the name further.
“Since when you call me Luke?” I decided to get to the point of his madness.
“Since I decided you not just a hot and cold ass nigga. You just lukewarm round this bitch, so that’s what I’m calling you,” he clarified.
I bit the side of my bottom lip and made a mental note to talk to Roy after the meeting.
I could always detect when he had some urgent shit to get off his chest. Now was not the time for it, being that the rest of the table would be arriving soon.
And the moment I took my seat, my men started to walk in one by one after every couple of seconds.
Matteo Cescari was the second to walk in.
He was over all Bonetti money movement. Matteo was a beast cleaning dirty accounts and creating investment channels nobody questioned because they never saw the source.
He was in his late thirties with salt and pepper hair from years of stress that he never spoke of to no one.
Every dollar inside Bonetti territory passed through his hand’s, one way or another.
He kept quiet and only spoke when needed.
He nodded once at me then sat two seats down from Roy.
Next came Domino Walton. He was over our transport and routes.
Product moved across state lines through his trucking companies that easily went under the radar.
Like Roy, Domino rocked a dark gray suit with no tie.
He took his chair across from Roy and leaned back in it immediately before signing his greetings smoothly with his hands to everyone in the room.
Vincent and Rico walked in together with tired eyes.
They were brothers, and they both oversaw all night operations along with clubs and private gambling that went on throughout the elite only.
Vincent also took over enforcement structure when it came down to keeping things in line and flowing smoothly.
Rico was a mastermind in the night club life, creating experiences of a lifetime while tripling the money investments poured into it.
Andre Baptiste was the second to last to step in wearing all black.
Nobody moved inside Bonetti territory without Andre knowing who they talked to before they arrived.
He had an entire team that hid in plain sight to overlook all operations.
Last through the doors before we shut the room down was Big Sal dressed in all white with his shiny bald head oiled down.
Big Sal was the face of construction fronts, real estate expansion, and land ownership. He unbuttoned his navy tailored coat to let his big beer belly breathe before he plopped down across from Andre.
I looked every blooded man in the eye before sitting up and raising my hands.
“We have a guest today.” My eyes deadpanned on seven pairs of eyes that shifted immediately.
Guests inside this room meant one thing. Strategy was about to change.
“It’s someone I’ve been meaning to introduce since he’s been supplying us thorough men as protection,” I continued to sign.
Roy leaned forward slightly. Matteo stopped tapping his pen against the sleek black table.
Andre’s eyes narrowed just enough to show interest without showing concern.
They were all tuned in which was good. I didn’t plan on being here long since I planned on seeing about Lucille tonight instead of allowing her to breathe another day.
“Monster Decebal and his second in command, Brutus Powers, will step in shortly…” I slowly signed to be sure everyone caught on to each word I signed carefully. “In the meantime, I’d like to discuss the next set of business in our loan department and investments.”
Roy sat up and frowned. I was glad he was tuned in because this was mainly his expertise. Him and I worked side by side, funding side deals that we all benefitted from. Maniac was our recent investment that I already heard about going bad from word on the streets.
“Recently, Jeremiah Reed presented himself to me.” I paused from signing to allow Rico who leaned forward first to speak.
“Velvet Room Reed?” He asked in shock.
“Yes,” I signed instead of answering.
Matteo let out a quiet breath through his nose.
“He expanding too fast from what I hear.” He shook his head.
“He borrowed too fast with plenty of promises and profits, now he’s running his mouth about mafia business,” I corrected, keeping my anger at bay.
Roy didn’t move nor speak on it, but I could feel him listening harder than the rest. He’d already been inside of Maniac’s lounge and made contact with his daughter as a statement on behalf of the mafia.
But from what I’ve been hearing in the short period of time since Roy left his lounge was that my Capo’s presence didn’t faze Maniac.
“He’s talking.” I signed calmly.
Andre’s jaw tightened.
“Talking how?” He asked through gritted teeth.
“Telling people we can’t touch him…After giving him the funds he begged for.” I felt the corners of my lips stretch into a devious smile.
I loved when people thought the dumbest things. One of me and Roy’s specialties was showing a person just how misunderstood they had us in a deadly manner.
“He drunk saying shit like that?” Domino signed fluently.
“The nigga is fucking sober,” Roy finally let his voice be heard, taking over.
“Then he’s a stupid low-level Kingpin,” Vincent interjected, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
“He forgets who funded all the renovations at several of his locations already?” Domino used his voice since Roy was alert and ready to talk.
I sat back and watched my men put all the pieces to the puzzle together as I expected.
“He thinks the loan was charity; that nigga didn’t forget shit but who really runs shit in Cali,” Roy spat with fire dancing in his eyes.