Chapter 6
Enzo
The Present…
The private dining room at Gianna’s sits at the back of the restaurant, separated from the lunch crowd by frosted glass panels and a door no one opens unless they’re invited.
It’s one of the many restaurants my family owns. The food is excellent, the service flawless, and more than one business deal in New York has been settled over a drink at this table.
I glance at the three men I’m meeting to discuss the new rate that will continue keeping them firmly in our pockets.
Mark Roberts, president of the Construction Trades Council, is pushing sixty and built like a retired boxer.
Beside him sits Russel Underhill, the union treasurer, a lean man with balding gray hair and sharp eyes that miss nothing. Closest to me, Michael O’Donnell, head of the laborers’ division, swallows the last bite of salmon while setting down his fork.
We’ve been doing this dance for years. The only thing that changes is the amount they walk out with.
Mark wipes his mouth with a napkin before looking at me. “The costs keep climbing, Mr. Falco.”
My expression remains neutral as I mutter, “They always do.”
“Which means we need to revisit our arrangement.”
These men don’t have any leverage. I only tolerate the meetings because keeping everyone happy simply costs less than paying to fix problems later.
Leaning back in my chair, I slowly twirl my tumbler of whiskey. “Let me hear the amount.”
Russel slides a folder across the table. “The board voted unanimously.”
Sure, they did.
Opening it, my eyes scan the figures, and just like I expected, the increase is higher than last year’s request.
It’s not ridiculous but also not reasonable.
Shutting the folder, I take a moment to make eye contact with each of them.
Michael clears his throat, and looking nervous, he says, “You know how it is, Mr. Falco. There are labor shortages, new regulations, and rising insurance.”
I let out a chuckle that sounds more like a warning, and the men bristle. “Funny how those same issues never seem to hurt your finances.”
Thanks to Rosie, I know exactly what goes on behind the scenes.
I tap a finger against the folder. “What does the family get in return?”
Mark quickly answers, “Priority staffing on every project.”
Narrowing my eyes, I mutter, “We already get that.”
Mark shifts in his chair and shoots the other two men a look before he says, “Guaranteed approval of overtime requests.”
Getting annoyed, I tilt my head.
Michael quickly leans forward and adds, “You’ll get advance notice before any labor action. We’ll keep our political friends and labor contacts backing your projects, and if any worker complaints pop up, we’ll handle them quietly before they turn into a problem.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I mutter.
Construction projects can lose millions if the wrong people decide to create problems.
“No inspectors sniffing where they don’t belong, and permits move faster,” I demand while meeting their gazes.
One by one, they nod in agreement, then I say, “Ten percent.”
Mark immediately shakes his head. “You’re killing us. Fifteen.”
I stick to my guns. “Ten.”
He lets out a sigh. “Thirteen and a half.”
Picking up my tumbler, I take a sip. “Eleven.”
The three officials exchange glances, then Mark extends his hand. “You have a deal.”
Sure I do. Eleven is what they wanted. They always come in high, knowing I’ll talk them down.
Rising to my feet, I shake their hands, and just like that, another year is settled without any blood being spilled. It’s because the Cosa Nostra ultimately signs the checks and keeps thousands employed.
Everyone of them knows exactly how much more profitable cooperation is than finding out what happens when the family doesn’t get what it wants.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you,” Mark says with a wide grin on his face.
I don’t bother returning the smile and say, “Until next year.”
Walking out of the restaurant, I pull my phone from my pocket and glance at my schedule before deciding to swing past my parents’ place to check on them.
I hardly notice Ciro and Nathan, who follow me around like shadows on Christiano’s insistence. I told them that if they get in my way and delay me, I’ll shoot them, so they always hang back.
I only tolerate the men for Christiano’s peace of mind. I trained twice as hard as my older brother, knowing it would be my job to keep him in the seat of power, so I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.
As soon as I get into my Mustang and switch on the engine, a message appears on the dashboard screen.
I SEE U.
The next instant, a song blasts over the speakers. Warriors from League of Legends.
Rosie likes to hack into my car and do things like this. I’ll never admit it to a living soul, but I fucking love every message and song she sends me.
I let the music play while I drive to my parents’ house in Manhattan, and parking in my usual spot, I switch off the engine and get out.
The front door opens, and Mom smiles lovingly at me. “Hi.”
Even though she’s in her fifties, she looks more like our older sister than our mother. I got Mom’s eyes and smile, but the rest of me is from Dad.
“Hey, Mamma.” When I reach her, I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek.
“Are you going to have dinner with us?” she asks while stepping aside so I can enter the house.
“I already ate during a meeting with the guys from the Union.”
We walk into the foyer, then Dad and Uncle Carlo come out of his office. “How did it go?”
For a man who just turned seventy, my father is still very fit and a formidable force. Uncle Carlo, who’s been Dad’s guard since before I was born, refuses to retire. He doesn’t trust anyone else to protect my parents.
“Good. They agreed to eleven percent,” I tell him.
“Did they try to talk you up to fifteen like all the other years?”
“Of course.” I let out a chuckle. “Maybe I should agree to fifteen percent next year just to see their reactions.”
“The shock might give Mark a heart attack.”
Chuckling, we walk to the entertainment room where we always hangout. Uncle Carlo doesn’t join us and heads outside to probably do a sweep of the grounds.
While Dad pours us drinks, I pick up the darts and throw a bullseye.
“How are things with Rosie?” Mom asks.
She always asks. Christ, I don’t think there’s anyone on this planet who wants Rosie and me married more than she does.
“Don’t start,” Dad mutters.
Mom’s tone is sharper than usual as she replies, “You might be okay with our son pretending he doesn’t love Rosie and making them both unhappy, but I’m not.”
I throw another dart, knocking the first one loose.
“Leave him be, amore mia. Enzo will make his move when he’s ready,” Dad says, always jumping in to protect me.
Besides Rosie, he’s the only one who knows why I’ve sworn celibacy and refuse to interact with women unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Dad also understands the constant pressure in my head and how difficult it is for me to control my emotions. I’m my father’s son because it’s the same for him. Christiano doesn’t have it as bad and tends to recover quicker.
Dad knew Mom was the right woman for him because she’s able to help him decompress. Christiano took one look at Sienna and knew she was the one. He continued to pursue her for over a decade, and now they’re happily married.
Even though Rosie is able to calm me down and I always end up going to her when I need to decompress, I won’t risk what we have for anything in the world.
What if I let myself want more, only to discover I’m not built for the kind of relationship she deserves?
A breakup would be painful, but that’s not what scares me. Losing her does.
I’m fucking terrified of it. It’s easily my biggest fear.
Right now, she’s the one person I know will always be in my life. After I found out I tortured Yuki, who’s now married to Augusto, Rosie became the one I trust with every ugly part of myself.
If I cross the line from friends to lovers and it doesn’t work, I lose all of it. Or worse. I could hurt her.
The thought of being the reason there’s pain in Rosie’s eyes is enough to make my chest tighten. I’d rather spend the rest of my life wondering what could’ve been than risk becoming the man who breaks her heart.
Some things are too valuable to gamble with, and Rosie is one of them.
“Enzo?” Dad suddenly says beside me, drawing me out of my thoughts.
My head jerks in his direction, and seeing the tumbler of whiskey, I take it.
“You okay?” he asks, his sharp gaze boring into mine.
I take a sip before answering, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I just want to see you happy, Enzo,” Mom says, her voice filled with worry. “Rosie too.”
“It would make me very happy if you dropped it, Mamma. Rosie is free to do whatever she wants, and I’m at peace with the fact that we will only ever be friends.
” Setting the drink down, I give Dad’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m fine. I promise. There’s no reason for the two of you to worry about me. ”
Dad changes the subject by asking, “When are you going to trade in the Mustang?”
I give him an offended look. “Never. Don’t ever say that about my baby again.”
While my parents chuckle, my phone buzzes.
I pull it out of my pocket, and seeing a notification from Alessio, Rosie’s head guard, I quickly open it.
Alessio: Going shopping for groceries. Heading out in ten minutes.
“I have to go,” I say while typing out a quick reply.
Enzo: Wait for me.
“Why? You just got here,” Mom complains.
“Rosie is going out.” I walk to the door, then throw over my shoulder, “Love you both.”
“Be safe,” Dad calls out, while Mom says, “Love you most.”
Leaving the house, I jog to my Mustang. When I get in and start the engine, another message pops up.
DON’T NEED BABYSITTER.
“I don’t care,” I mutter as I reverse.
During the fifteen-minute drive, I worry about Rosie’s safety for the millionth time.
Augusto gave one of his most trusted men, Raffaele, to Rosie so she’d have an underboss who does all the dangerous work on her behalf. It happened right after the fucked up shit with the Yakuza.