Chapter 1 Let the Games Begin
Let the Games Begin
“Now.”
I open the door, striding into the conference room filled with the most dangerous men of New York City.
A large rectangular table sits in the middle of the large room with those men sitting around it in their expensive suits.
Four mob bosses; four underbosses. Each has a guard behind them, standing silently as I enter with Jameson following.
Grey walls greet me with black tiled flooring that clicks under my heels.
The far back of the room is all windows, the wall to my right has a couple of television monitors.
A shelving unit is pressed against the window at the far end.
It’s deadly silent as the men stare, scowling at me as I stride past to the head of the table and unceremoniously pull back what would be Leo’s chair and sit down. I stack my array of folders onto the table. There’re low murmurs.
“Gentlemen, if you could have your personal bodyguards leave the room,” I say, focusing on the corset I wear, hugging my torso firmly. “This is private business for only the head honchos.”
“What the fuck is this?”
My gaze lands on the one who spoke. Rossi.
“I called this meeting. Now if you want—”
“Where the fuck is Luciano?” Another questions.
“This is absurd,” someone comments.
“Where’s your boss, Vasquez?” Rossi asks, glaring at Jameson. “We had—”
“I was fucking talking,” I interrupt angrily. “Send out your men, before I make you.”
“You have no authority, what makes—”
“This does.” I hold my left hand up, rings sparkling in the light reflecting off the buildings outside. The men murmur, exchanging looks. “I am Leonardo Durante Luciano’s wife. So, I suggest you watch your tone.”
The man I know as Nicki DeLuca tries to speak next, “What the fuck are you—?”
“Send out your men, and then we can discuss. Now.” All of them look to the other, and I give them the best customer service smile I can muster. I lean back in the chair, gripping the armrests to keep from trembling. “Unless you want to admit you’re afraid of a woman.”
That makes them rustle, but not obey.
Get the guards out. Another fear.
“Or perhaps you’d like your bodyguards to know some of your dirty secrets? Start some gossiping storms?” I ask, tilting my head. “Sure, you trust your man, but what about another’s?”
That does it.
A flash of worry goes across some faces, glancing at one another. I’m about to start airing out dirty laundry anyways, until one of the crime bosses juts his head for his guard to leave.
Ralph Finstrum. Not a mafia boss per say, he’s technically not part of the families, but he’s been around for so long in the underbelly of New York, he practically is. He holds the most territories after the Marchetti Family.
Others follow Finstrum’s lead, sending out their guards in a grumbling manner. It takes longer than I want, but then again, I’ve got a bit of time to wait on Leo’s decision.
When the guards are gone, I’m left with just the bosses and their secondaries. Once the last man steps out, Isaac enters and closes the door to guard the entrance. All the bosses look at each other, then finally to me.
“See? Not so hard,” I comment, opening the first folder, rifling through the contents.
“What the fuck is going on?” Rossi asks. “We were called together to discuss Luciano stepping down—”
“Oh, that was a lie.” I pull out some photos. A few men scoff, while another grumbles. “You honestly think he’s going to step down just like that after you helped sabotage his businesses or listening to a kid who can barely drink?”
“What the fuck do you know?” A different voice speaks, and I look up at Massimo Curione. I glare at him.
“More than you may think.”
“Like…what exactly?” His voice could be smooth if he wanted it to. Given the defined cheekbones, dark hair, and eyes, he’d be a perfect candidate for a heart breaker. Well, he kind of already was. “Or you just some bitch that Luciano fucked and now he can’t get rid of? A gold digger?”
Jameson tenses behind me.
I slide my hands over the table, bringing them back as I lean into my chair. They’re brought to my thighs, hiding them underneath the dark tabletop. Calm trickles over me as I feel the “precautions” Chiari placed in here before anyone arrived.
“She’s his wife,” Jameson answers. “Although you’re young Curione, there’s certain etiquettes to be had with the wife of the Head Mafia Don. Whether you follow him or not.”
“No rules state she can call meetings! Or sit in his fucking seat!” Curione argues, spitting as he looks at the others who sit quietly. Contemplative. I flick my gaze to Finstrum again, who’s scowling at the folders.
For him and the others, this isn’t the first-time things have been troublesome. There’s a weariness on his and Rossi’s face. Both of them barely made it with their businesses intact after what I did years ago. DeLuca just exchanges a look with his second in command.
Finstrum and I make eye contact. His frown deepening as I keep my composure. I hadn’t taken him down because he killed two other underbosses for trafficking women. He’s a slimy bastard, but one who has three daughters, which gave him a soft spot apparently.
Curione continues talking, complaining along with a handful of underbosses as I drown out their voices. Finstrum and DeLuca exchange a look.
“When were you married?” DeLuca asks, stopping the others from talking. The larger man glares at me.
“Before the hit was sent out on me if that’s why you’re asking.” I move my attention to him. “Why? Were you a part of that?”
“Could be lying,” Rossi’s underboss suggests. “Some ploy—"
“They’re married,” Jameson states.
“Here. For your leisure.” I pull out my copy of our marriage certificate, sliding it across the table.
“She’s protected by silent laws older than anyone in this room,” Jameson adds.
“We didn’t know, no one did I’m guessing,” Rossi spits. “If Luciano had said—”
“You’d have killed us together and not tried separately? Like Riccardo and his wife?” The men go still.
“That was his own son’s doing,” Finstrum says calmly. “And another, who Luciano killed years ago.”
“But you’re still capable…aren’t you?” I ask. My heart thunders in my chest as Finstrum looks down the table at me. “Just as you know if you dethroned him, all of you would have a chance at the seat I’m in.”
“Your husband’s seat,” DeLuca mentions, sliding those pale eyes at me. “Now who’s dethroning him?”
“Yes, where is your husband…Mrs. Luciano?” Rossi asks, smiling like he caught me. “Married or not, you have no say. Unless you killed him.”
The anger that’s been simmering begins to boil. He pronounced ‘Luciano’ wrong, likely on purpose. They could accuse me all they want, it won’t matter. Their condemnation, gaslighting, and lies don’t affect me. It’s the disrespect towards Leo that makes the shaking in my hands worsen.
“He’s still alive. Be thankful that none of you succeeded in that.”
“We had no part of what happened days ago.” Rossi waves off. “His own men did that. Another reason why he should be here, discussing stepping down. He’s losing control.”
“Oh…really?”
“Yes, really, now call your fucking husband to get—”
“Are we really going to sit here—”
I ignore them as they talk over each other as I open a folder and glance at the photographs Chiari got for me. Evidence of one man’s betrayal. My eyes flick up to who it is, grumbling along with the others.
There’s movement at the door as Isaac opens it briefly and comes back in with a singular nod.
My eyes go back to the photos from the video footage of a few nights ago. To whom was there, almost killing Leo and some of the Crew.
It’s not who I should be focusing on though. I should start tossing their dirty laundry at them; begin my plans for the blackmail that will consume them. Wait it out. I glance at the clock measuring how long I’d have to be in this room with these men. If Leo shows up. If not…
Stay on course, Autumn. You can’t—
“This is ridiculous, having a woman telling us what to do,” Curione speaks, starting to get up and I notice the tremor in his hands. “Luciano is a coward.”
Fuck the original plan.
Without another thought, I reach under the table. My hands land on the two handguns Chiari taped underneath, and I roll the chair back. Somehow steady, I aim for Massimo Curione and fire.
I squeeze the trigger twice, hitting him square in the chest. He jerks back down into his seat, gasping as he clutches at the bullet wound.
The room erupts as I aim my other gun at Rossi across from Curione.
At the same time Isaac pulls out his 9-millimeters, aiming at Finstrum, who’s closest, and at his underboss.
Jameson does the same to DeLuca and his man across the table.
A few minutes pass as the men yell in shock while Curione gasps for breath in his chair.
“A few things to know, gentlemen,” I warn, glaring at Curione and the others.
“One: I own everything my husband does, including the mafia and its affiliates. I have every right to sit here because he signed over equal control to me months ago. Two: do you really think I’d walk in here without any protection?
” I let out an empty laugh, allowing my furious, possessive nature take control.
The room goes quiet. “Three: I don’t give two fucks about your rules.
If I’m irrelevant to them, then they’re irrelevant to me. ”
I look at every boss slowly. Curione last.
“You fucked over my husband,” I growl. “You almost killed him, and men I trust and care about. You double-crossed him at that warehouse after using your meeting as a ruse.”
He wheezes, pressing against the wound as his second in command next to him watches blankly. Of course, he’s not helping, not when he gets what Curione owns if he dies. Or it’s the gun aimed at him.
Blood seeps through Curione’s suit. “I…I…didn’t…”
“Don’t lie, Massimo. It’s not a good look.” I set a gun down, grabbing the photos and toss them at him. I grab the entire folder of pictures of his betrayal, throwing them at the bleeding man. “Just admit it. You were being greedy, hoping to take his position when he died, right?”
Curione’s lip curls in answer, and then coughs up more blood.
“Wasn’t that the plan? For all of you bastards?
” I grab the other gun again, pointing it towards Finstrum who goes still.
“You help Matteo get rid of him, who takes over until one of you kills him next? How easy would it be to take out the young buck mafia boss when he isn’t looking?
” Finstrum’s dark eyes meet me straight on.
My stomach churns, clenching onto fury. “You are capable but come on…it’s practically a movie script. ”
“You wouldn’t understand,” DeLuca says, and my aim goes to him. “Luciano was a loose cannon.”
“That so?” I suddenly put the guns down, my palms pressing into the table as I lean over the weapons, shielding them from being grabbed.
“If you knew what he was doing, then you’d know he was putting us all in jeopardy.”
“I do know,” I murmur, breathing deep as I grip my hands together. “And soon you’ll be praying that he walks through those doors and beg him to never forsake his position here…especially to me.”
“Cause you’ll kill us?” Rossi asks, trying to sound cocky.
I smile and all the men jerk at the response. I open a folder, flipping through pictures and grab one. “Rossi…you have disgusting hobbies, I personally think. And I think Finstrum would agree.”
Finstrum’s brows pinch together as Rossi’s face blanches.
I shove the pictures across the table. “I think your wife and daughter would agree, knowing you’ve been screwing underage girls for over the past decade.
” I grab the last one, deciding to fling out the one that blurs out the girl’s body mostly. “Including Finstrum’s daughter.”
The table shakes as Finstrum grabs the table, veins popping as he strains. I keep going as Rossi pales more.
“DeLuca,” I say next, who’s eyes snap to me in worry. “I think, there’s a couple of politicians who’d hate to know you’ve slipped about their privacy at your clubs. And Hollywood execs. Or I wonder how pissed Rossi will be knowing you stole from his shipments two years ago. Oh, and six months ago.”
I slide those photos next, and then the spreadsheets.
“Finstrum,” I continue. “I believe the IRS will love to see all your tax documents of the last seven years. All those offshore accounts, illegal shell companies under certain closed businesses. You’re behind on taxes.
” Those papers go flying across the table, and onto the floor.
“I doubt you’ll cry over Curione, giving that he was trafficking girls and giving you fucked up coke and weed, which is why your clients were dying. ”
The men are silent as they glare at each other, a few going pale; others going red with rage.
Finstrum looks ready to kill. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget your underbosses.
” I toss another folder, and then another.
“From using products they shouldn’t, stealing weapons, taking bigger cuts, or selling you out to other bosses. ”
There’re some choking sounds of disbelief, chairs squeaking as they fuss.
“How?” Rossi croaks.
“Ghosts.” I place my hand over one of the guns. “You may not remember some of them, but they remember you. Ghosts are very willing to talk, especially when you try to bury them alive.”
One of the underboss’ looks to where Isaac stands, watching the door.
“Your men won’t help you,” I announce. “No one will, except one. And if he doesn’t walk through those doors in the next hour, all of this will be made public. Given over to authorities, news anchors, your associates, and your families.”
Finstrum finally stares at me, fear flashing over him. “No, you can’t, you’ll ruin—”
“I don’t care.”
Curione chokes, and briefly I meet his dark gaze as he sneers through crimson teeth. “Monstrous bitch,” he whispers.
Cold sweeps over me, feeling numb as I remember Leo’s cries. The blood on his hands. The devastation in his eyes. All of it churning together as I reach for one of my guns. Jameson stiffens beside me as I aim it at Curione, willing to seal my fate.
Angry tears brim my eyes.
“I will make you all beg him to save you from me.”
Gunfire splits the room.