Epilogue
Giordano - 1 Month Later
Six in the morning—yet again.
Monday morning briefings. The first Monday of the month is dedicated to all city families getting together in one place and going over stats, updates, details, and issues. This month’s conveniently being held in Chicago. And now, we have The Bratva joining us.
What I can’t seem to understand is why Monday? Why not Friday?
Perchè ?
I sip on the cappuccino Antonella made for me before we left as I grip tightly on her hand. Delicious . I glance over to Andrei, signaling for him to begin the meeting—in the thick accent of his.
Four Don’s sit on each side of the table.
Italian Mafia, Chicago —me, accompanied by my lovely fiancée, joining us for the first time. Nervous as she may be, she’ll fit in well handling everyone. Xander’s busy in his office at the moment, otherwise he’d be here.
Russian Bratva —Andrei Sokolov, accompanied by Damian and Nikita—who’s currently being, again, hovered over by her bodyguard.
Italian Mafia, New York —Zephyr Marchetti, accompanied by his eldest son, the oldest triplet, Roman.
Italian Mafia, Milwaukee —Alara Bellucci, formerly known as Alara Marzano. My cousin on my father’s side.
“I think we need to start a group chat,” Nikita says confidently.
“A group… chat? We are chatting. This is the monthly meeting,” Andrei replies. “Which is a great idea. I like this.”
Nikita snorts. “I meant between the next generation. A few of us here aren’t heirs but are important and should be kept in the loop.”
She’s a vital asset, yes, but she’s also full of herself. I bet her and Giulietta have a battle of the egos.
“Yes, happy for you to finally join the alliance, Andrei,” Zephyr pipes up, in his typical brooding tone.
“I’m going to send out a mass text.” Her smile is fucking unhinged, like one of those creepy dolls. She scares me a little. “Anyone who leaves the group will get shot in the kneecap by yours truly. A month is too long to go between updates. I want to be in the know.”
“Capisco.” I nod, pulling out my phone. It vibrates with a plethora of texts and the screen stays on as more flood in.
Cazzo, here we go.
Antonella leans in close to my shoulder. Her voice in a low, hushed tone only I can hear her. “So, this is what she’s like… not drunk?”
I bring her hand up to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Good luck to her.
Nikita Sokolov
This is the group text. Don’t remove yourself or I’ll shoot you in the kneecap.
Damian Sokolov
I don’t appreciate your threat.
Nikita Sokolov
It’ll only be an issue if you remove yourself.
Damian Sokolov
I’m going to remove you from life.
Alexei Morozova
Over my dead body.
Xander Venerio
What the hell is this? A group chat?
Everyone shut the fuck up.
No crazy shit here. Burners only.
Roman Marchetti
* Read *
Alara Bellucci
*Liked Xander Venerio’s Message - Everyone shut the fuck up.*
Moglie
Got it :) Happy to be included.
Nikita Sokolov
Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.
And I meant that toward Xander. Not you Toni.
Xander Venerio
Fuck you.
Moglie
3
Andrei clears his throat. “We have another matter to discuss. Who’s going to take over The Estrada?”
I ask, “The Estrada? How do you?—”
“I gained access to it,” Andrei says flatly. “People owed me favors. Do you really want to know?”
My eyes flick over between Kita and Alexei, who again, are sitting too close to be professional. Does Andrei not make any observations? I squint, seeing right through them as I slowly pan over to Damian. He scratches the back of his head, remaining silent—eyebrows raised as if he doesn’t want any responsibility with it.
Alara and Zephyr both shake their heads, denying ownership.
Fair enough.
Internally, I groan. “I’ll take the club.” The revenue can be good. Someone has to do it. Right? Owning a sex club will have some interesting perks.
“Are you sure?” Andrei taps his black, ball point pen infuriatingly quick against the table.
My jaw tightens as I nod, confident in my decision. Maybe I can pass it along to someone in the ranks—give someone something to do. “I’ll take it on. No problem.”
“There’s four.”
“Four what?”
“Four clubs.” He lifts a brow while writing something down on the paper. In my short time knowing him, it’s a contract. “New York, Chicago, Milwaukee, Seattle.”
On the outside, I keep my cool, calm, and collected composure. On the inside, however, I’m screaming. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m sure Antonella won’t mind traveling. Do you, amore? After you’re more recovered, of course.”
She shakes her head with a beaming smile on her face. Figured as much.
CEO of Marzanetworks.
CEO of The Estrada.
Head of The Italian Mafia in Chicago.
And being a married man will be the next one.
Andrei slides the contract papers over on the table, his signature being on it already.
“Take your time to consider,” he says.
“My mind’s made up.” I scan over the fine print, then sign on the dotted line. I slide it directly back to him.
“I’ll handle gathering clientele,” Roman speaks up in a deep Italian accent—similar tone to Zephyr’s. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. He’s been in on briefings, many of them. He’s never uttered a word. Now, he’s said four.
“You want to work… together?” I tap my right foot on the floor.
“Yes.” He nods once. “I would like to manage gathering clients, creating accounts. I think it would be good for me to get my foot in the door. Business side of things.”
“Okay.” The more help, the better.
“I’ll handle the New York location,” Damian chimes in.
Intriguing . Why the sudden interest?
“You don’t have to travel back and forth all the time. I’ll mind the location. Send you anything needing your approval.”
“I appreciate the help,” I say. Maybe everyone working together isn’t going to be such a hard thing to get used to.
“Another thing,” Antonella speaks up, breaking her silence. Interesting.
“Yes?” Andrei says.
“If anyone needs anything taken out of newspapers… online articles… That’s my speciality. What I’m here for,” she says quietly.
I squeeze her hand once in attempts to give her more confidence.
Own it, amore.
“Oh, shit. I thought you were just here for the fun of it.” Nikita snorts. “I’ll try to keep it on the down low for you, but I may keep you busy.”
“As you guys know, I was a journalist before this. Working—unknowingly—at Aisling O’Duinn’s company, The Estate Times.”
“Yes.” Zephyr hums. “I thought you may have been a rat.”
“No, Don Marchetti.” Her eyes widen. “Never.”
He raises his hand. “Please, Toni. Zephyr is fine. No need for formalities. ”
“Since the whole kidnapping thing—” She laughs, trying to lighten the subject.
“I’m not laughing,” I interject.
“I figured it’d be better to work… closer to home.” She peers up at me through those beautiful, full lashes. And I’ll be damned. She’s got me wrapped around her finger.
I open my mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door interrupts, followed by a worried looking over at my underboss. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s been an issue,” Xander says.
Andrei glances between the two of us, gripping tightly on his glass. “ Issue ?”
“There’s going to be the remaining people from the Irish Mob—because Cillian is gone.”
“Sì.” I clear my throat, knowing where he’s most likely going with this.
“Get to the point.” Andrei crosses his arms over his burly chest.
“There’s been a spy—a rat .”
“Where? When ?” I snarl—furious with his findings.
“This entire time— everywhere.” Xander looks frazzled . Nothing gets past him. Someone being right under his nose must be eating away at him.
??“Who?” Andrei says in a phlegmatic tone. Does this man have any emotion?
“Wasn’t me!” Antonella squeaks out. I squeeze her hand tightly. Breathe .
“He, or she, has many aliases?—”
“So, you have nothing to tell me.” Andrei inhales deeply through his flared nostrils. Wow, he does have an emotion.
Rage .
Realization dawns on me. A man who previously ratted out Antonella. Got her caught and taken from me.
“We’ve been blind this entire time.” He may have a front he’s running to keep income flowing. But, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been doing who-knows-what on the side.
His heir is gone.
He’s back .
I whisper, “His father.”
“What?” Alara asks.
“Cillian’s father , Aisling O’Duinn,” I repeat. As if I wasn’t clear the first time. “He’s at The Estate Times.”
Xander shakes his head, disagreeing. “I’ve been keeping tabs, Giordano. He’s sneakier. Cautious. He has someone doing the dirty work for him. Someone we don’t know, or at least not familiar with.”
“He mentioned someone… Petrovi?. Cami, one of my coworkers, was on the phone with a Don Petrovi?,” Antonella says, tapping her chin.
“Elias Petrovi?, the Serbian Mafia Don.” My jaw clenches tightly.
“Why would he be wrapped up in this?” Zephyr asks.
“We’ll find that out soon enough,” Andrei snarls.
“You have our full support.” Alara nods while tapping her long nails against the wooden table.
Andrei shifts slightly, leaning in close to Nikita. His voice is lethal, serious. “Find out who else is involved. The rat? Bring them to me.”
Xander and I exchange a look of— what the fuck?
Kita and Alexei have a silent conversation with each other. No words spoken—only imperturbable facial expressions. They both high-five each other, scoot far back in their chairs, and leave the room without saying another word to anyone .
A peculiar dynamic.