14. The Love Of My Life #2
Art and I go back to my first year out of law school. He was my mentor at the firm. Art Ramos takes criminal defense to a different level. He was a beast in the courtroom when I started. I worked under him for a year before he left to practice on his own.
Now, his clients rarely see the courtroom because he’s become a beast at negotiations.
I use the term negotiations lightly. Art Ramos has connections as high as the sky, mainly because his number one client is none other than Brando Vitale, Jr.
Brand runs his family business, Vitale Holdings, but his real business is on the downlow.
When Eli Pettit explained the new-and-improved Mafia, I knew exactly what he meant.
Brand is as Italian as they come, and Art’s family is from Peru.
From my time working with Art, I heard all about their history.
They grew up together. Art will do anything for Brand, and vice-versa.
From what Art insinuated, anything meant everything.
When life went to hell and I needed the favor of a lifetime, I knew who could get that shit done. The only thing Art negotiated in return was for me to take on him and Brand as clients when he found out I planned to move home and take over Deacon Financial.
Art came through for me, and I’ve returned the favor. I refuse to call it a marker, but I know that’s what it is.
Brand Vitale and Art Ramos get a financial planner and broker to manage their investments.
Their legitimate investments. It was my only stipulation. Because there are plenty of the other kind too. As long as I didn’t touch a penny of the illegitimate revenue, I was eager to make a deal.
I stand and offer my hand to my old boss and his boss. They are the picture of business, which means they don’t look at all like the Mafia. “Art. Brand. It’s good to see you.”
Art brings his drink to his lips for a sip. “Sorry we’re late. Brand’s mom is watching both our broods this weekend. It was a shit show getting out of the house. Tess doesn’t like to leave the kids.”
Brand surveys the lounge before turning back to me. “This place is impressive. Everyone is talking about the manor. Aria tried to get a reservation, but they were booked for the next eighteen months straight. Quite the exclusive weekend you’re putting on.”
“A weekend at The Manor at Winslet is one of the few things that got Tess away from the kids,” Art adds.
“I’m glad you could both make it. I booked this when the place was still in renovations.
Where are Aria and Tess?” I make it a point to know the names of all family members of my clients.
I even know some dogs and cats. I’ve got to put my photographic memory to use somehow since I don’t exercise that skill in the courtroom much these days.
Brand slides a hand into his pocket. He and Art might be my only clients who aren’t laser focused on Ruby. “They’re getting changed. We missed dinner, but we’re looking forward to the rest of the weekend.”
“I know the owner. If you want to book a room before the next century hits, let me know, and I’ll put you in touch. I’m glad I reserved it again for next year too. We’re only a few hours in, but I have a feeling my clients will revolt if this isn’t an annual thing.”
“Consider us those clients.” A beautiful woman who looks years younger than Art fits herself to his side and offers me her free hand. “Tess Ramos.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
Another woman joins the group holding a glass of red wine. She’s got long brown hair and is taller than Tess. “Sorry I’m late. I had to take a call from a patient.”
Brand slides a hand down her back and doesn’t hide the fact it lands on her ass. “This is my Aria—Dr. Vitale to the rest of the world.”
She leans into her husband and lifts to her toes to kiss him. “No one cares about the doctor title but you.”
Brand holds her close. “I’ll shout it from the rooftops. No one is prouder of you than your husband.”
Aria finally turns to me. “You must be Payne. Thank you for the lovely weekend.”
I lift my chin. “It’s my pleasure.”
Tess turns to the front of the room and leans her back to Art’s chest. “Holy shit, that singer is amazing. Winslet is barely a blip on the map. Where do you find talent like that around here?”
Art wraps an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re right. It’s hard to find entertainment like this in the city. I think Payne also appreciates her by the way he was looking at her when we walked up.”
I turn to face Ruby and Blake. They’re wrapping up another song—another one I did not request—but I don’t have a chance to respond. Aria and Tess are too fast for me.
Aria’s dark eyes light up. “You’re with the singer?”
“Art told me on the way here you were single,” Tess adds.
I school my tone, so I don’t sound as irritated as I feel since I’m more transparent than I thought I was. “Your portfolios keep me so busy I have no time for a social life.”
“I would say I’m sorry about that, but I’m not. Our growing bottom lines speak for themselves. We’re not going anywhere. There’s no need to stroke egos,” Brand says.
Art shrugs. “Speak for yourself. He can stroke my ego all day long if it includes weekends like this. He started out working for me as a junior litigator and look where he is now.”
All of a sudden, Brand’s demeanor cools to the level of being arctic. “What the fuck? Art, is that who I think it is?”
Art frowns. “Who and where?”
Brand lifts his chin to the other side of the room. “By the wall. Fuck, it is him.”
Art turns to me and narrows his eyes. “Reid is your client?”
Two men are seated at a cocktail table against the wall.
Ansel Reid and Harlan Vance are both from back east. Harlan was a client long before I took over.
He recently referred Ansel, who has not been conservative with his money, which is the reason why he was invited.
Every time we have a meeting, I’m slightly shocked at how aggressive he’s willing to be.
When I mentioned it once, he said if I’m good enough for Harlan, I’m good enough for him.
“He’s new in the last year. You know him?” I ask.
“Let’s just say we know of him,” Brand mutters.
I should be focused on what put Brand and Art on alert, but I can’t. I’m too on edge by the way Ansel Reid is looking at Ruby.
And not just devouring the sight of her—he’s snapping so many pictures, I want to storm across the lounge and rip the fucking phone from his hands. I think he’s even recording a video.
Fuck.
I turn back to Brand, because now I need to know everything. “How do you know him?”
Brand glances at Art and hikes a brow, like he’s consulting his lawyer before he speaks.
Art gives him a nod. “Payne is solid. You can tell him. Hell, he needs to know who he’s dealing with.”
I put my back to the room and lower my tone as much as I can so they can still hear me over Ruby’s sultry voice. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know what Reid told you about his business, but he’s on the payroll for an organization that’s...” Brand pauses for a moment and then chooses his words carefully. “Let’s just say he works for a competitor of ours.”
Aria’s eyes widen. “Oooh.”
I let that sink in for two beats and try to think of any other way for Ansel Reid to be a competitor of the Vitales other than a rival Mafia family.
I turn to Art to confirm my thoughts. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Art’s confirmation comes in the form of a shoulder shrug while never letting go of his wife.
Fucking Arthur Ramos. Of course he’d think this is no big deal.
“Who does he work for?” I demand. “He’s from a small town in New York. He told me his neighbor is Martha Stewart, for fuck’s sake.”
Art holds out a low hand. “Take it down a notch. We have different types of competitors. There are allies and then there are adversaries.”
“Let me guess,” I bite out my words. “Reid is an adversary?”
“That’s too mild of a category for Ansel Reid,” Brand says.
“Fucking great,” I mutter. “Who exactly does he work for?”
Brand tries to placate me and the entire fucking situation.
“He might have a legitimate business of his own, but he’s still a soldier.
We make it our business to know the heavy hitters.
The Vitales have a reputation, too, and he’s in our territory.
As long as he behaves, we can overlook it.
I’m sure he never thought he’d run into a Vitale in a place like this.
Invest his money, take your percentage, and keep throwing weekends like this. Just don’t invite him next time.”
“You still didn’t tell me who he works for. The Vitales are different. I know Art. But that doesn’t mean I want to specialize in investments for organized crime.”
“Whoa.” Art is offended. “Back that up. The Vitales are not the Carusos.”
I freeze.
He uttered that name at the same time Ruby ended a song so slow, there was a hushed moment of silence that fell over the lounge. I lower my voice. “Caruso?”
Brand nods. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m willing to do some shit when push comes to shove or when there’s a threat to my immediate family. But if you knew how fucked-up they were, you’d know not to lump us in the same category.”
I turn to look at the man who made up approximately six percent of my revenue last year—that’s how big of a client he is—only to find out he works for the same family Ruby is running from.
Ansel is still staring at Ruby, but now he’s doing it while talking on the phone.
I turn back to Brand and Art. “I assume it’s too far of a stretch to hope Enzo Caruso is a member of a different Caruso family than the one Reid works for?”
Brand frowns, and his hold on Aria tightens. “You know Enzo Caruso?”
Aria doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve heard of Enzo, and Brand shields me and the kids from everything when it comes to family business.”
Tess points at Aria with her drink. “I’ve heard of him too. He’s notorious.”