Chapter 133

Nico

It’s been a couple of days since Lucky has mentioned wanting to do something concrete within the business. Two days of nothing but stress. I would give my princess the moon if she asked for it, hell I’d burn the entire world down if that is what she asked for. But to be involved in my business. Man, it’s a tough one.

Dario has been put under Tony’s wing. Listen, I can’t possibly do it all and brothers need to help brothers. He is going to first lean about our security before he moves onto the inner dealings of our legit businesses. There is no way that I want Dario across anything he shouldn’t be. He isn’t cut out for the underworld despite the fact he hangs with that asshole, Lucien.

Then there’s Lucky’s parents. I rake a hand through my hair as I stand at the kitchen sink drinking in the stupendous views of my land, the trees, the way the sun is rising with an orange glow. It’s the best part of the day when the house is silent and nobody is around to ask me for anything or demand of me. The coffee is black and strong. Exactly how I like it.

My chef is busy making the breakfast for everyone. I will grab toast and poached egg since I have to be out of here to fly back to New York City to meet again with Yashimoto-san. He promised an answer and now is the time to find out if he is going to help out with our little Petrov problem. We will see.

I’m standing in my workout shorts, my chest naked some sweat trickling down my chest and between my shoulder blades. I did a thorough workout this morning, pushing myself on the treadmill then lifting heavier weights. My body is jacked to perfection. I intend to keep it that way.

Her parents that is where I was. Don. Gianluca has advice on just about every aspect of my business. Even though the man knows nothing about my business. I swear to God, if he brings up the good old days again and how it was different and how easy we now have it, I will ask him to leave and go back home.

We don’t have it any easier than our grandparents or fathers did. In my opinion we have more to worry about especially with cyber-attacks. One click of a button and some smart asshole can destroy the world. Now that I consider to be a helluva lot worse than what my grandfather went through.

Sure, they had tough times and maybe had to get blood on their hands and on their shoes more than my brothers and I. We’ve had our fair share and when there are dicks like Petrov gunning for us, it spells only one thing. War. Disaster. Death. Blood. Power battles are not for the fainthearted.

And her mother is driving me insane about the wedding. Fuck, I should have taken her away to the Bahamas and married her there. White sand, turquoise sea, peace, quiet, champagne. A private stretch of the beach. Lucky in a white dress made of lace with a small train looking stunning and beautiful. Me in a pistachio linen suit and a black shirt. Job done.

I can’t deny Lucky her wedding, however. I know she wants to do it all properly with her parents being present. Yet her mother keeps asking me so many questions that I think I’m going mildly insane. How many people can she invite? I’ve already told her just family, close first relation family, not extended family.

Then how many tiers would be acceptable on the wedding cake? Seriously, that is Lucky’s domain. She has been trying to curb her mother from constantly asking me but it is like her mother believes she needs my approval. Listen, I want to marry Lucky with my entire soul and heart, but I’m the groom. I pay and turn up.

“You have a call, Boss.” I turn to see one of my detail standing with a mobile. I frown. Who the fuck is calling me at this time of the morning?

“Thanks, I’ll take it in the office.” He hands the mobile to me. With my coffee in hand, I make my way out of the spacious, modern chef’s kitchen and head across our foyer to my office where I close the door behind me.

“Hello,” I say abruptly. I hate to be interrupted during my morning routine when at home. It’s the only time I properly get to relax.

“Nico, Nico, Nico. How are you?” A laughing voice says over the phone. And instantly I recognize it as my uncle’s voice. He still lives in Sicily, never having moved to our part of the world. He runs his own operation over there; we do not have too much to do with each other. Yes, he may be family. Yes, he may be a Santangelo but he is not the type of man I like to deal with. It would be better if he and I were not blood related. His dealings are underhand; he kills without hesitation or thinking. Innocent people get hurt and he has too many fingers in too many stick pies.

“To what do I owe the honor of your call, Uncle?”

I take a seat at the office desk and drum my fingers on it. My coffee now cold and discarded.

“A little bird has told me, Nico nephew that you have some problem with the Russians in New York, no?”

Fuck, doesn’t word travel fast? Bad news usually does.

“I want to help you out, what do you say my little nephew?” His voice is laconic. I could easily stuff my fist in his mouth and make him choke. His three chins would wobble and his pig, bulging eyes would pop out.

“Nothing I cannot handle, Uncle. We have it covered.”

“No, Nico you don’t. He has been stealing from the Santangelo family. We are coming nephew, to be of assistance. I am sending some men today. Make sure they are treated well. We take that dumb motherfucking Russian off the street and kill him.”

Fucking fantastic. Just what I need. A bunch of Sicilian assholes turning up on my turf. He has an ulterior motive, he always does.