Chapter 17 #2
“This may be more profitable for the family than anything the Russians can accomplish when it comes down to it. And it’s a lot cheaper…
we won’t have to pay off Canadian border patrol, and I’m assuming since Vignali’s boasting about owning the customs agents, that means we wouldn’t pay those bribes either. ”
I shot him a warning look. That was not the plan.
He smiled, the meaning in his expression crystal clear.
“If you want my sister, this is what it’s going to take.”
Fuck.
Don Moscatelli turned his head in Marco’s direction.
“Yes, son, but how do I know he can come through like the Russians can? You doubt them, but I do not.”
I did the intervening this time.
“You know I’ll come through because unlike the Russians, I’m an Italian, same as you, and my word is my vow, same as yours. I have a reputation to maintain?—”
“Your father squandered that reputation,” Aris spat.
I smiled, maintaining my composure. I could keep my shit together a little longer, for Val’s sake, but I wouldn’t take any bullshit from the cocky little pissant who put bruises and burns on my woman.
It didn’t matter what deal Marco and I came away with, because when this was over, I meant to kill Aris myself.
“His, not mine,” I said, “Since his death, I’ve rebuilt my family empire from the ground up. My empire is much greater in size and worth more than my father’s ever would have been.”
“Mr. Vignali…”
Moscatelli’s proper use of my name in such a calm collected manner ignited something akin to hope in my chest.
Then it died beneath the weight of his cruel glare.
“I appreciate your generous offer,” he said, “but it doesn’t change the fact that the treaty forbids exactly what you’re suggesting.”
“True enough, Mr. Moscatelli, for now. But the men who formed the treaty and the men it was designed to control are all dead. We’ve entered a new era. The world has changed. Capone is no longer an issue. Neither is Luciano.”
Moscatelli dug his elbows into the chair’s wide leather arms and formed a steeple with his fingers.
“Maybe, since you’ve rebuilt your family from nothing and have no senior members to guide you, you don’t understand the importance of tradition.”
Fucker’s looking for any excuse.
“Not at all, sir. I absolutely value tradition, provided it doesn’t impede progress or profit. The treaty was intended to prevent wars from spanning across state lines, to keep the government’s attention elsewhere.
“But now, thanks to RICO, those lines are irrelevant. New York and Chicago don’t have to remain enemies. It would be more profitable to work together.”
“Well, be that as it may,” Moscatelli said, “the treaty was established for a reason. I don’t think the reason is any less valid now than when it was first proposed.”
Then the stupid man raised his hand.
“I know, I know. There’re many in my community who don’t like the idea of me dealing with the Russians. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck what the other families think. I only care about what I want, what it’ll take to reach my goals, and everyone else can go fuck themselves.”
He’d just talked himself into a corner. Not giving a fuck and only caring about his own goals contradicted tradition.
Seems he worked pretty hard to present himself as a savvy businessman, and a rational man, but the more he opened his mouth, the more I realized this dumbass just talked in circles.
He must have confused people quite often.
Whether by design or through ineptitude, who knew.
I spread my arms wide as if to bow. I didn’t.
“I’m offering you a much better deal than the Russians, and when you’re not even sure they’re still at the table. I’m offering a hell of a lot more capital up front with the promise of direct trade routes soon.”
Marco looked up from his phone.
“Yes, exactly… a promise. I also did my homework, Vignali. You say you’re joining the Commission, but my source tells me you turned down the seat.”
What the fuck was this guy doing?
I shot him a scowl, then quickly composed myself.
I needed to be calm. I couldn’t allow a breach in my resolve or a fissure in my usual poker face.
“It’s a standing offer, and now that I’ve taken over two other families, which makes me the strongest don in New York, by the way, I’m taking that seat.
Within five years, I’ll sit at the head of the table.
Opening your trade routes by the middle of next year won’t be a problem unless you make it a problem. ”
Marco focused his attention completely on me, narrowing his glowing blue eyes.
“Which families?”
“Capaldo and Malta,” I said.
He scanned the room for Benedetta. She sat alone at a table near the far wall. She met his gaze and nodded with a smile.
“Bullshit, Vignali. You don’t have any claim on those men. You would have to marry Benedetta to take over those families, and you set her aside for Valentina. After all, isn’t that why we’re here in the first place?”
“Benedict Capaldo is dead,” I said. “He died two days ago. Hours after his death, I took control of his men and all business operations. And until Benedetta marries, I control his entire empire. It’s being folded into mine as we speak.”
Don Moscatelli cleared his throat.
“Then you’re only a steward until his daughter marries. That kind of power is inflated and temporary, and maybe the only kind you have. A princess like Benedetta won’t have any trouble finding a husband.”
Son of a bitch then gave Marco a long, knowing look.
Fuck that. No way would Marco get her.
I shook my head to shut down their game.
“You should know, I’m the one who chooses her husband and when she marries.” I raised a brow. “If at all.”
Moscatelli slammed his fists on the chair arms.
“You’re telling me you’ll let that beautiful girl become an old maid and keep the power for yourself?”
As if the fat prick cared about Benedetta or any other girl.
He abused his own daughter, for fuck’s sake.
“I have no problem turning over what I took at the time of Don Capaldo’s death—when I’m good and ready, and not a moment before. Once I’ve consolidated my achievements, I’ll consider a marriage to the right man, for the right price. After I’ve taken New York, the Commission, and Boston.”
I could have done it all.
It could have been my plan from day one.
A great strategy as far as empire-building plans went.
No, I didn’t intend to do it, but the pretense of it all was what Moscatelli could understand and needed to hear.
Aris glared at his phone, then handed it to his father.
Moscatelli stared at Aris’s phone for at least twenty seconds.
“I admit,” he said, “I am impressed. Now I see you’re the type of man who’s strong enough to manage my stubborn Valentina.
You could keep her in line and provide for my grandchildren nicely.
But you see, I just don’t trust you when it comes to business.
You’re still your father’s son. I can’t ignore that. ”
“Then don’t. You don’t need to trust me. You’re much smarter than that anyway. You’re also smart enough to know you can’t trust the Russians either. Christ, those assholes don’t even trust each other.”
“You’re right, I don’t trust them. They’re Russians.”
He paused and turned his wrist to check the time.
“But I gave those nasty fuckers my word first, and they’ve sent over another good offer. So I’m inclined to… what is it they say? To leave with the date who brought me.”
Moscatelli’s boisterous laugh filled the fucking room.
Aris joined him.
He would get more time to torture his sister.
All the air rushed out of my lungs.
I knew what Moscatelli would say next.
“Mr. Vignali, you won’t be purchasing my daughter today.”
Aris walked over to me, and we stood toe to toe.
“But hey, you might be able to buy her dead body from the Russians once they’re done with her.”
My heart accelerated.
A razor-sharp pain shot through me.
Then the rage came.