Chapter 17
STEFANO
As I approached Moscatelli’s private meeting room, I noticed Marco leaning against the doorframe, staring at his goddamn phone like something awful had happened.
I removed my masquerade mask and pocketed it.
“What is it? Have the Russians sent their demands?”
Marco shook his head but kept his eyes on the phone.
“No, but several other bids have come in from other families. I’m guessing it’s an attempt by the Italians to keep our deal with the Russians from going through.”
“What do the Russians get from this… other than my wife?”
“What? Isn’t she enough?” Marco asked.
“For me, yes. If she were going to be Klimov’s bride and give him heirs, maybe for him as well. But those other families wouldn’t be hell-bent on stopping this transaction if that was all Klimov wanted from your father.”
Marco studied me, seeming to evaluate how much he might choose to trust me.
I leaned in to intimidate him into my favor.
“I’m going in there to make an offer that does more to set up your power than his. You know exactly where I stand. You know what’s on the line for me, so tell me, what the fuck’s on the line for you?”
Marco straightened and jammed his phone into his pocket.
“You’re right. I know what you stand to lose, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you what I stand to gain.
I’ve already said enough. And I think you know the Russians want a bigger piece of Chicago, that they’re already in California and Texas and now grabbing at more presence in New York and Boston. ”
“Yes, they want more of Chicago to link future East Coast interests with their western activities,” I said.
“Right. Access to the lakes, rail lines, and other amenities.”
“Buildings that sell like Manhattan,” I added, “but cost less to build, would make laundering money a hell of a lot easier.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You know a lot about Chicago for a man who’s technically not allowed to be here.”
I fought the urge to punch him in the fucking face.
I hated it when people underestimated me.
“I don’t have to conduct business in this city to understand its benefits… or its disadvantages.”
I didn’t want to openly disrespect a man who didn’t have to help me. My answers had put him in his place well enough. He knew to take me more seriously, that I wasn’t the fool his family had made me out to be when they infiltrated my home.
Marco matched my intense stare, then the corner of his mouth twisted into a sly grin. Fucker had set me up. He wanted to know how intelligent and cunning I might be.
Fair enough. I wanted to know the same about him.
Someone knocked on the door from inside the meeting room, but before Marco opened it, he hesitated.
“I hope you can make this work, Vignali. Marry my sister immediately and put an end to all this. You and I can profit a great deal from that kind of relationship.”
Then he opened the door and led me into the room.
Don Moscatelli’s bloated body filled his massive chair as he played at being a king, sitting in the center of the room as if he were taking petitions from his subjects.
Val’s twin brother stood close to Moscatelli’s chair, one step behind on the right. The psychopath eyeballed me, never moving his gaze away from me.
Marco took a seat on the velvet sofa nearby, pulled out his phone, and continued with what he’d been doing before.
Searching for more incoming bids.
“Why is the weak second son of a dead bastard here in my presence?” Moscatelli asked.
I gnashed my teeth and set my jaw. He could spew that stupid shit all he wanted. It didn’t make him more powerful.
Nor would it keep him alive.
If his heir didn’t kill him first, I planned to do it myself.
When I was a young boy, people whispered about Saul Moscatelli. They had called him “The Pianist” and trembled in fear at the sound of his name. Seeing him now, realizing how stupid he turned out to be, I couldn’t believe it.
“If you think I’m weak, your family hasn’t been paying enough attention to New York,” I said. “You should probably see to that.”
Moscatelli scoffed but didn’t say anything.
Aris spoke out while scrutinizing me with his icy blue stare. Cold, empty eyes—similar to my girl’s only in color.
“How ‘bout I rephrase the question? What’s the father of such a weak little bastard doing in my father’s presence? You have no right to be in this city.”
I bit back a grin but just barely. Aris couldn’t get over the fact that my son got one over on him.
“Hmm. Didn’t my son punch you in the balls and put you out for a good five minutes?”
Aris’s expression darkened.
“Is that what the lying little bastard told you?”
“He didn’t mention you at all. But after you abused a woman half your size and dragged her out of my house, I did see it on the security footage. I wonder, did hurting your sister make you feel powerful again after a child took you out?”
Marco snickered but kept his mouth shut. Good. If he interjected, it might raise red flags and make Moscatelli question whether his son and I had something planned behind his back. Of course, we did.
I stepped deeper into the room, closer to the old man’s chair, a slow, casual move, my light footsteps silent on the thick carpet. As much as it killed me, I nodded once at Moscatelli to show him respect.
“I’m here, sir, because you took something that belongs to me. I understand the situation is somewhat messy because your daughter lied to us all. I don’t know why she lied, but it doesn’t matter at this point. I’d like to make an offer for her hand.”
“What could you offer me?” Moscatelli asked.
“Ten million, wired to an offshore account tonight. I’ll take immediate possession of her.”
Aris laughed. “This fucking clown. She’s not worth that kind of money.”
I narrowed my eyes, taking a second to rein in my anger.
“Let me be very clear, boy. Valentina might not be worth that much to you, and that’s your business, but her value to me is not the same, nor is the reason why it’s not any of your business. Ten million is my opening bid. Counter or shut the fuck up and let the grown-ups talk.”
The asshole lurched forward and drew a pistol from beneath his jacket, but Moscatelli lifted his hand, stopping his son dead in his tracks.
Fucking overzealous dog on a leash.
Moscatelli leaned forward in his chair, at least as much as his fat gut would allow, and nodded.
“All true enough. One man’s trash is another’s treasure. You say ten million is your opening bid. What if I want more?”
“More money? Or shall I offer something more lucrative?”
He tilted his head. “Are you in a position to offer me something more than cash for the mother of your bastard?”
He continued insulting my son to see if he could get under my skin, provoke me into making a mistake. I refused to let him. Val’s life was on the line.
I nodded. “I can offer better terms than the Russians.”
Moscatelli’s reddened face twisted into a smile.
“Well, then. Now you have my attention, Mr. Vignali.”
“Good. Let’s get to it then. The Russians once offered you two and a half million as well as a business deal for expanding your shipping activity through Canada into Europe.”
He shrugged. “You did your homework, and I’m supposed to be impressed?”
“Not impressed, concerned that I can give you something better. That is, assuming you’ve done your homework as well. I think you know I’m in a position to join the Commission and take my father’s seat as one of the highest-ranking members. This gives me a great deal of influence.”
I paused to drive that last point home.
“Not only can I complete that wire transfer tonight, but as soon as I take my seat on the Commission, I’ll provide you with a direct shipping route from the East Coast into Europe. You won’t have any issues dealing with Canadian border patrol, and I own the customs agents in New York Harbor.”
Moscatelli sat back and regarded me with cold indifference.
“Why would you do that, Mr. Vignali?”
“Because you have something I want.”
Aris sneered. “You’re willing to join a committee you hate, work with us, and give up that much cash for someone like my sister? Kinda makes you a little simp bitch, yeah?”
I grinned. “It makes me an intelligent man.”
Moscatelli intervened with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
“Yes, yes. So, Vignali, tell me why my daughter’s worth all this trouble to you. Consider it a token of trust. I don’t get into bed with any man I can’t trust.”
A fucking lie. He couldn’t trust Klimov either. But fine—I could rationalize my offer if it made him get on with it.
“You met my son, your grandson, the nine-year-old who challenged you and Aris. The boy will be a strong leader, and he deserves to be my heir. I can’t make it so until he’s legitimate. I do that by marrying his mother.”
Aris threw back his goddamn head and laughed.
“Can you believe this guy?”
I will kill that son of a bitch when Val’s safe.
“Then she’ll give me more children,” I continued. “I’ll expand my empire in New York and move into Boston. With more sons as smart and fierce as Enzo, I can achieve that more easily. Valentina’s proven she can provide what I need. To me, that’s worth ten million and opening those trade routes.”
Reducing my girl to a proven broodmare who could provide me with more children made my gut burn. Beyond that, I had no plans for Boston, but that lie didn’t bother me.
Valentina could have been unable to bear more children, and I still would have offered just as much. And Enzo could one day choose not to follow in my footsteps, and that wouldn’t make me regret this decision either.
But men like Val’s father and her twin brother, who might have looked like her but lacked her intelligence and grace, would never understand.
So, to get them to agree to my terms, I had to barter on their level and speak their asinine, archaic language to be sure they understood me word for word.
Marco jumped into the conversation.