Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
EMILIANO
I sit behind the security cameras in the office as I watch Valentina cradle her head between her knees. I cut the power in the basement around two minutes ago to scare her straight; the only reason I can see her is because the cameras down there use infrared technology. Matteo’s such a little genius for suggesting and programming them himself so we can always watch whoever we’re keeping down there.
“Did you seriously cut the lights down there?” Romiro says from behind me. I ignore him as I continue to watch the brat squirm and jump away from the corner as if she’s felt something grab her. It could be a rat.
“Do we have rats down there?” I ask Romiro, turning to look at him when he doesn’t answer me.
He shrugs. “I don’t fucking know, man, but I sure as fuck hope not. We’re not here to torture the poor girl; she’s just leverage so we could get that little shit Giuseppe.” I narrow my eyes at him. He seems to care way too much for someone who’s meant to be the enemy. Romiro holds his hands up, as a show of surrendering with a small smile playing on his lips. I know what he’ll say before he even says it.
“If you feel so strongly about her, why didn’t you say so? Your face is green with jealousy, and let me tell you, Eli, green isn’t your color.”
I flip him the bird and turn back around to look at the screen. Valentina is curled up into a tight ball that I almost miss her.
I think that’s enough psychological damage for the day. I flick the button, which floods the room with light. She doesn’t seem to notice for about a minute. Then when she peeks her head out of the small cocoon she’d made with her body and notices the lights are on, it looks like she releases a sigh.
“Come on. We need to go to the OX, but before that, we need to head to my place. I need a change of clothes and a shower.” I tap Romiro’s arm as I pass him. He follows behind me as we head toward the elevator doors.
As soon as the elevator doors slide open, my phone rings in my pocket. I slide it out to see that it’s my Mom calling me.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Don’t ‘hey Ma’ me, Emiliano Folonari, where on earth are you? You’ve been gone for two weeks and haven’t even bothered to call to check on your poor Mom,” she scolds. Romiro can tell my Mom, bless her heart, has gone on a rant because he’s grinning from ear to ear like the fucking Cheshire Cat, and knows that she won’t be stopping till she’s talked my ear off.
“Listen, Emiliano, once you get to New Hampshire, there’s a sweet young lady I’d like to-”
“No, Ma, I already have enough on my plate as is. I don’t want to date anyone now.”
“First, don’t cut me off again, or else you’ll have something flying toward your head. Second, I didn’t say you should date her.” I wait for her to drop the other shoe because she always tries to pull this kind of shit. I’m glad she’s doing better since Dad’s death three months ago, but she’s hyper-fixating on getting me with someone. Which irritates the fuck out of me, but she’s my Mom and she’s grieving. “I meant, you should marry her, figlio.” Oh, for the love of everything holy. Why does she keep trying to marry me off every chance she gets?
“Listen, Ma, I have to go. I have a meeting.”
By the time I’m able to hang up the phone, my Mom managed to convince me to go to New Hampshire in a couple of days. We get into my car, and Romiro can’t keep his big mouth shut for a second.
“So, any thoughts on what we should do with Valentina?” he asks. I speed out of the parking garage and onto the busy streets of New York City. My jaw clenches as I remember the searing feeling that had settled in the pit of my stomach when she had asked for Romiro.
“ We are not going to be doing anything. I will be the one to handle that Moretti brat from now on. You’re being too lenient with her.”
“She likes me better, doesn’t she?” he asks smugly. I’m about to rebuttal his assumption, when he continues. “You know it won’t hurt to be nice to her. Besides, she's easy on the eyes.” I break harder than I normally would, which causes him to be slammed back into his seat. “You’re just being an asshole now,” he whines. I grin at him and nod at the red light we’re stopped at.
“I’m not an asshole, I’m your Capo, and I demand the respect I expect from one of my soldiers.”
After that, the rest of the ride is spent in comfortable silence.
It doesn’t take us long to make it to the Auriga complex building. Parking my car, we both get out.
“I’ll be done in about an hour. What about you?” I jut my chin at Romiro as I slam my car door shut and lock it.
“Same. If I take longer, just go ahead of me. I’ll follow you to the OX,” he says as we head into the elevator. He inserts his key first, then presses the floor below the top one. The top floor belongs to me and only I have access to that floor. No one else. I put my key in and scan my thumb, then when the light turns green, we begin to ascend.
“Hey, Rom, next time, dial it back on the Prince Charming act. She’s the enemy, not your next conquest,” I tell him once he gets off on his floor.
“No can do, Capo. Besides, Prince Charming doesn’t have shit on me,” he says before the doors close and the elevator ascends to my floor.
* * *
It’s been an hour since both Romiro and I left for the OX. It’s quite far, just on the outskirts of New York City. The parking lot is empty right now since the next fight isn’t until later in the week, and the fact that it’s close to nine in the morning.
We head inside and see Diego manning the front desk, scrolling through the betting system we have set up on the darknet.
“Anything I should know about?” I ask Diego, once Romiro and I stop in front of the desk.
“No, boss, except that we’ve made half a million on the last two fights,” he says, grinning. We’ve doubled our profits over the past three months.
“Keep up the good work, Diego.” I head toward the bar area and grab a cool beer from behind the counter, throwing one to Romiro. Catching it, he cracks it open with his teeth.
We make our way down the spiral stairs toward the basement. Down there is Beneditto, Luigi, and Tito dangling from the ceiling by their arms, naked, with tape over their mouths and a small piece of cloth each that covers their genitals. Soon, there won’t be anything there worth covering. Not that there is any to begin with. I place the beer bottle down on the floor beside me.
Romiro heads to the control center to lower them till their feet are nearly touching the ground. One of the three groans, as the drug's effects seem to be wearing off. Tito’s eyes twitch for a couple of seconds before they fly open and widen as he realizes the position that he is in. I can almost taste the bitter taste of his fear on my tongue. My face twists as I take in the look on each of their faces. One by one, they wake up and their expressions morph with fear and absolute defeat. I crack my knuckles while heading toward them. The chains clang together and make loud noises as they each struggle to try to get free of their chains.
“Remind me, boys, what had the instructions been when we set out for Chicago?” Romiro comes to stand next to me, tight-lipped with a grim expression. Gone is his boyish behavior; instead, a trained killer standing in his place. I keep my eyes trained on the three soldiers chained up in front of me. None of them answers my question, causing me to sigh.
“You know I expect absolute and utter respect from my men, but it seems you failed to even deliver that.” I extend my hand, in which Romiro places my dagger. Dragging my forefinger and thumb across the blade, I slowly look each of them in the eye. This makes them even more restless, causing more clinging and clanging of the chains.
I step toward Tito, who, unlike the other two, seems to be less panicked. Romiro’s footsteps echo in the empty basement as he steps back toward the control center and sets the controls for the other two to return dangling in the air. Tito’s chains remain where they are.
“Boss, we didn-” Tito stops trying to explain once he feels the blade pierce the skin between his collarbone and drag toward the area between his pecs.
“I made specific instructions on who we were to shoot, if we needed to do so. You and the other two meatheads didn’t follow through with my clear orders.”
“AHHHHH!” He thrashes as he tries to move away from the blade, but it’s no use. Romiro appears behind him and grabs his midsection to keep him steady, but lets it go once I shake my head at him.
“You go take care of one of the other two.” I jerk my chin at him, to which he nods and heads back in the direction of the controllers. Turning back to Tito, I say, “Tito, you know what happens to soldiers who don’t obey orders. I will not tolerate disobedience. But the issue isn’t that you ignored direct orders from your Capo...”
I direct the blade to where his arms bend at the elbows and push the blade in while also sliding across, causing the skin to break and some blood to ooze out and slowly trickle down his arm.
“The fucking issue is the fact that you shot a child, a defenseless little child. That is something I won’t forgive. I might have forgiven the disobedience to direct orders, but that, I will not.”
His breathing picks up as I direct my blade toward his face, and when he starts to thrash, I grab his cheeks. The blade punctures his eye.
“LET ME GO, YOU SICK FUCK!” Blood hemorrhages as I continue to press my blade into his eye socket.
“KILL ME! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” The blood sprays all over my face and clothes, but I continue to press.
“LET ME GO!” His eyes roll to the back of his head—or, well, one of his eyes does—and his shoulders slump as he passes out. I check if he has a pulse. He does, but it’s weak. I continue to gouge out his left eye, and it rolls to the floor once I cut it out of its socket. The pungent smell of blood fills the air.
“Romiro, grab the drugs. Tito has passed out already,” I instruct him as I walk to the bathroom in the corner of the room. I look at myself in the mirror. My face is so drenched in blood that it almost drips off my chin. My black shirt looks wet, but you can’t tell what it’s soaked in. Unless you smell it.
I move onto Beneditto and repeat the same thing on him, except I go for his tongue this time instead of his eye. Which doesn’t make him lose consciousness, but when I drill nails into his shoulders, he froths at the mouth before passing out.
By the time we’re done, both Romiro and I are soaked in blood from head to toe and the three men dangle lifeless from the ceiling, or at least what is left of them.
“Romiro, tell Eugine to clean up this mess, but to leave the men here. I want a mandatory meeting by noon tomorrow,” I order as we head up the stairs.
“You want it here?” he asks.
I slant him a look as we head toward the locker room to get cleaned up and change before we head back and, without another word, he nods in understanding.
* * *
When I leave the stall and head to my locker where I keep a change of clothes, I see that Romiro has already finished and is probably waiting for me. I spot both he and Lucio as I step out of the changing room.
“Did Matteo set up the link?” I ask, directed at either of them, as we leave the corridor and head toward the main entrance.
“He did. When do you want to use it?” Lucio’s the one to reply.
“Possibly tomorrow night.” They follow me out, both Lucio’s and my car the only ones in the parking lot. The sun is peeking out over the horizon, which means that it’s still early hours of the morning.
“Did you call Eugine?” I question Romiro as I open my car door.
“Yes, they’ll be here in five minutes. Where are we going now?”
Romiro is getting restless because he’s gotten less than three hours of sleep.
I roll my eyes at him. “We’re going to check on the cargo that arrived from the Japanese, then we’ll head to the warehouse for a little visit. Matteo spotted some mistakes on the shipment sheets.”
Romiro’s face breaks out into a wide grin as he says, “You’re not going all the Fourth of July massacre style on us again, are you?” I don’t react to his comment about the rampage Lucio and I had gone on after our Pop’s death.
“Lucio texted he’s going to New Hampshire,” he says. I nod at Romiro, not paying attention to what he’s saying anymore.
We weave through traffic faster than we anticipated and make it to the Agnes port in twenty minutes. Mariano is waiting for us by the port’s parking space. Lowering his head in greeting, he opens my car door once the car comes to a stop, and I pat his shoulder as I get out.
“Mariano, why are you here? Did I not instruct you to stay in Las Vegas?” I interrogate him as we make our way to the back of the port where our men are manning the cargo.
“Boss, shit’s about to hit the fan in Vegas. Lorenzo Vitielli is dead, and his underbosses have separated. Vegas is free for the taking,” he informs me, and I pause to look at him.
“Doesn’t Vitielli have five legitimate sons and one bastard?” I ask.
“They were in France locked up in a boarding school, but they’re gone. No one knows where the fuck they went.” My eyes narrow at the revelation, jaw clenching. The eldest of the Vitielli brothers is just fourteen. Where the fuck could they have gone? I don’t need more shit to worry about; I already have restlessness in my ranks since I've taken over. I don’t need rumors of a fucking mafia revolution making rounds in my territory.
“Stay here. Mariano, keep your ears pierced for any disloyalty and make an example of those who dare to step out of line,” I order, at which he nods and slips back to the shadows where he blends in. Romiro opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head at him.
“Not here. Wait till we get back to my apartment.”
He nods, and we continue our walk in silence. There are around twenty soldiers guarding the three cargo containers. A large man is standing in front of the cargo container, and Nicolo Esposito is speaking on the phone, but quickly ends the call and hugs his brother.
“Nicolo, how are you? How's business?” I ask him as we shake hands. His face breaks out into a smile that looks at odds with his harsh features and his emerald eyes remain vacant.
“Business is going great. How’s New York been since you’ve taken over? My brother’s not giving you a hard time, is he?” His question might seem like he’s making basic conversation, but he's a snake trying to sense any weakness before there is one. Romiro might be on our side, but that doesn’t mean that Nicolo is. He’s a wild card.
“New York has seen worse days,” Romiro answers him as he drags his older brother toward the port’s parking lot.
Turning to the cargo container, I motion for the guard to open it.
“Make sure to take inventory of everything. I don’t want the Japanese to think that we’ll tolerate them trying to fuck us over.” The men start to pile in, dragging out sacks filled with wheat. At least that’s what you’ll see when you rip it open and not dig around.
“Silvio texted. He thinks it’ll be better to set up the camera and send the link out earlier.” Romiro informs me as he jogs closer. Nicolo seems to have left. In what, I don’t know, and I don’t give a fuck as long as he sticks his nose somewhere other than my business.
“Ask him why. I want details. I’m not moving shit if I’m not convinced.”
“I think it’s because there’s talk about the Vipers showing up to the whorehouse tonight,” he explains.
“What the fuck do you mean, they might show up? Sort it out, Romiro. They better behave themselves if they’re in my territory. I don’t need a fucking headache.” My jaw tightens. He pulls out his phone and dials someone’s number then puts it on speaker.
“Silvio, why do you want to move up the plan?” There’s the sound of paper shuffling on the line before he blows out a sigh.
“Mrs. Folonari called. Mara’s snuck out last night, and she refuses to tell everyone where she went.”
A scowl settles on my face. Romiro’s eyes narrow as he studies me.
“What the fuck do you mean? Where were her guards? How can you allow my little sister out of your fucking sight? I trusted you as one of my best fucking men.”
A deafening silence falls.
“Silvio, the Capo asked you something.” Romiro urges as a hard edge takes over in his voice.
“Honestly, boss, I have no fucking clue, but Lucio is already in New Hampshire to deal with them, and Matteo is also looking through the camera footage to figure out how she was able to bypass the security.”
“Find the fuck out. I expect a report on how the fuck the men under your training failed.”
Romiro ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket.
“We’re going back to the Diamond,” I order Romiro as I head to my car.
“I told the men to tie the Moretti girl and to make sure that she had something over her mouth,” Romiro informs me as he jogs behind me. I roll my shoulders, trying to rid the tension that settles into my muscles.
“Get in. I don’t fucking care what you guys did, just make sure everything is being set up.” His eyebrows lift as he looks at me with his hand on the car door. “Get in, Esposito. I don’t have all fucking day,” I repeat. He slams the door after he gets in, making me shake my head at his childishness.
“You go monitor Silvio, Boris, and the Moretti brat while they set up the camera,” I tell him as I drive out of the parking lot.
“Where are you going?”
I shoot Romiro a look to remind him that I am his Capo, not someone who answers to him. He nods, and we settle into silence as I drive through the traffic to reach the Diamond.
Once we reach the Diamond, both Romiro and I get out of the car. Romiro heads down the corridor toward the door to do as he was ordered. I shake my head at the change in his attitude. Romiro has always struggled with authority, whether it was the law or the hierarchy of the Camorra.
Opening my office door, I step into the cool room. At my desk, someone knocks on the door as I’m shuffling the accounting papers for the club.
“Come in.” My voice booms after I sit in my chair. Vivian enters the room and closes the door behind her.
I stay quiet, waiting for her to tell me the reason why she is in my office so early in the day. Her blonde hair is as always, styled like she is a 70s housewife.
“Emiliano, there’s a problem.”
I lift my eyebrow, urging her to continue.
“Donnie Gambi still hasn’t paid his debt off.”
Fucking Donald Gambi. I told Stefano to keep his nephew in check.
“How much?”
She shuffles around before her eyes meet mine.
“Half a million.” So, the idiot had been gambling as well.
“Is that just from the whores he’s been fucking, or…?” I implore, and she shakes her head.
“He’s been requesting Jasmine every night for the past six months.”
What the fuck is wrong with the Gambi men and expensive whores?
I run my hand across my mouth as I try to think of a solution that won’t cause a war on my turf. After all, the Gambi family is a crucial family in my operations. They supply some of my weapons.
“Tell the bouncers he’s not allowed in anymore, not until he pays off his debts,” I tell her. She spins around to leave, but I stop her. “And Vivian, next time, take this up with Gregory. I don’t have the fucking time for child’s play.”
Her head bobs in a nod before she scurries out the door.
A call to Stefano is going to be necessary. I hate that fucker. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I call Gambi’s number.
He picks up after the third ring. “Folonari, to what do I owe the displeasure for receiving this phone call?”
“That would be Donnie, your nephew,” I say without greeting him. He’s silent for a second before he speaks again.
“What did Donald do?”
The corners of my lips tip up in a condescending smile, even though he cannot see it.
“He owes us some money, so I thought a call to you would have been more…appropriate since we have a mutual agreement.” The threat isn’t obvious, but Stefano will understand what I mean. Those indebted to the Camorra get one warning, his nephew gets two. This call and the bouncers telling him to fuck off.
There’s shuffling of some papers before he asks, “How much?” I lean back into my seat.
“Half a million,” I tell him. Some commotion seems to happen on the other end of the phone before it settles.
“The money will be in the club's account by noon tomorrow.”
The line goes dead.
I get up and straighten my clothes, time for some fun.
* * *
Once I enter the room, I can see Boris eyeing Valentina while Romiro is talking to him, and my right eye twitches. Breathing through my nostrils instead of gauging out his eyeballs, I head to where Silvio is setting up the camera and microphones.
“When will it be ready?” I ask him.
“In a minute, boss,” he answers without looking up from the setup.
Romiro comes toward us and says in a low voice, “I think you should dismiss Boris; he’s being extra creepy with Valentina.” I slant a look at him, which shuts him up. Boris knows better than to try anything that he isn’t being told. If he does, he knows the price he’ll pay. His life.
“All done, boss. You just have to press the large red button to start it and again to end it,” Silvio announces once he straightens. I give him a nod and tell him he can leave. Once he’s gone, I open Matteo’s messages.
Eli
Send the link.
Matteo
It’s activated.
Romiro opens the cell door, then comes to stand beside me, behind the camera. I click the start button, which starts flashing red, and give Boris the go-ahead. He heads toward the cell door and Valentina backs away toward the concrete wall. Her wrists are tied with a white rope, and she has a gag wrapped around her mouth. She has the look of a caged animal in her eyes. Boris grabs her arm and yanks her out of the cell as agreed. He is short and stubby, but he’s still taller than Valentina, which gives him an advantage.
Pulling at her hair, he smacks her. A grinding sound comes from my jaw, alerting me to the fact that I am clenching my teeth. Boris is veering off the script already. I see Romiro look at me from the corner of my eye, but I refuse to take my eyes off Valentina and Boris. At this point, Boris paws at Valentina’s dress and rips one of the sleeves. Time slows down as she struggles to get out of his hold.
Valentina’s head slowly turns in my direction, her face tear-stricken as she makes eye contact with me. As if to ask for my help. Like on autopilot, I fly across the room, separating them and grabbing Boris by the throat. I throw him against the wall, my grip tightening with each word that escapes his mouth.
“Boss, you told me it’s what I should do.”
A red mist has taken over my self-control and my grip continues to tighten as his face grows ashier by the nanosecond. I don’t stop. I don’t stop when his pathetic eyes roll to the back of his head, and I don’t stop when he claws at my arms. I also don’t stop when I hear bones cracking and blood overflowing over my hands and over my wrists, and not when he begins to choke on his own blood as it fills his airways. Romiro has to drag me from his limp body.
My chest moves rapidly with the effort of breathing. I look back to where Valentina is and find her on the floor, her mascara running down her rosy cheeks. She looks exhausted, staring at the lifeless body, skin, and blood on the concrete floor, the bone that punctured Boris’s neck and caused him to hemorrhage sticking out clear as day. The air is tainted with the tangy metal smell of the blood oozing from the sack of meat laying on the ground behind me. When she finally looks at me, she flinches, her eyes void of any emotion but fear.
“Romiro, take her to the doctor,” I instruct him as I leave the room and take the stairs two at a time. I wipe my hands on my pants as I make my way to my office to get cleaned up. I don’t know what happened there.??
I don’t think I want to know.