Chapter 6 The Meeting
LORENZO
Seated on one of two chairs placed at the bar counter, I took a fortifying drink of my vodka; it slid down my throat, the burn as familiar as its strong taste. Though I hate those fucking Russians, especially with the trouble Alexei is giving me, I will have to admit they have good liquor.
Speaking about Alexei, I wonder if it's true that his brother, Maksim, is dead. The former Pakhan of the Russian Bratva was a man I hated, but at least he had honor.
I took the pack of cigarettes on the counter near my Glock and slid one out. Using my lighter, I lit it and took a long drag, then another before letting out a billow of smoke through my nose and mouth.
Hands rap on the door in a rhythm only two people know before opening the door. Luca waltzes in hurriedly with a phone in hand, only for his step to falter when his eyes fall on the woman bound to my bed.
Viviana is one of the two whores I fuck; they both know where my taste runs and enjoy pain as much as I enjoy giving it.
Right now she's lying on the bed, her fake blonde hair braided. Her legs and hands were bound together with handcuffs and chains that wound over her stomach and thighs; she was helpless and could barely move.
I had gagged her because I didn't need to hear her voice while I fuck her. Luca shakes his head slightly, sighing.
He strides to the bed, picks my boxer from the floor, and flings it to me. I catch it mid-air and drag it up my legs, the cigarette still in my mouth. He holds out his phone.
“You need to take this call; it's Giuseppe,” I tilt my head, blowing smoke in his face.
“Since when did you become my secretary?” I asked, glaring at him as I picked up my vodka and drained the glass.
“Since you failed to pick up your calls,” he replied, grabbing the phone I hadn't checked since I came here last night and dumping everything from my pockets on the bar counter.
He flashed the screen at me, and I was surprised at the number of missed calls I had. I take the phone from his hand.
“Giuseppe,” I said, letting the man know it was me. I listened quietly as the man told me the reason he'd called.
“I will be there,” I replied, my voice hard, and ended the call.
I was in a private room in one of my clubs. The pleasure hole (Il buco del piacere) is a place where I come to de-stress and unwind; I haven't been here for a long time.
All I wanted was to blow off steam from all the tension and anger of a few weeks, so I came here.
At the time, I thought it was a good idea.
Unfortunately, I had just realized that not even getting my cock buried in a hot pussy has done anything for my mood. I stride to Viviana and unchain her.
“Get out.”
“But Capo…” she started reaching out to touch me.
“Leave,” I growled; she scampered out of the room without even taking her clothes, her breasts and ass jiggling. Luca stared appreciatively, then he shut the door after her.
“You're an asshole, you know.”
“Yes, and she's a whore, here for my pleasure, not the other way around,” I replied, yanking my clothes back on.
“I don't get why she's not afraid of you like the others,” Luca said.
“Because she knows what the others didn't.”
“Which is?” he arched his brow. I smirk.
“I fuck like a god.” He bursts into a chuckle, and I grin.
“Arrogant fucker, I think she's either too stupid or a masochist for always running to you instead of running the other way.”
“Well, she's all that, but I'm also a sadist. We can't all be perfect, Luca,” I scolded.
“No, we can't,” he agreed, grinning.
“What are we going to do about the call just now?” his face has turned serious.
“We will go and hear what that fucker has to say.” He nodded. It seems like there's no avoiding the old bastard.
An Hour Later
The tension was rife and palpable; it was like a keg of gunpowder, and all it needed to set things ablaze was a match. Between Carmelo and me, things could go sideways really fast.
Yes! I have agreed to a meeting with Carmello Vincenzo. Even before I saw the old fucker’s ugly mug, I was getting pissed, and hearing him yap on and on made my ears almost bleed.
There was no love lost between the Marchettis and the Vincenzos. And whenever we meet or clash, someone always dies. It's the way of things.
Everyone knew that, so the fact that I was here meeting with Carmelo had the few people who weren't from either mafia family vacating the restaurant as though the hounds of hell were chasing them.
Both our men were outside on opposite ends, keeping guard. Standing behind me on my left and right were Luca and Fabio.
Carmello had also brought his Consigliere, Romero, who was his brother, and Marcello, his enforcer, who was also in the same position.
The restaurant we chose for this meeting was on neutral ground. Giuseppe was a headstrong motherfucker who had refused to pledge allegiance to either mafioso. He was an enforcer back in the day who had suddenly decided to retire from the mafia.
I never asked him, though I was curious, why. He'd opened a restaurant and earned legally, though he gets a cut whenever a fruitful deal is made here.
Sometimes he acts as an intermediary, as he does now. He was the reason I agreed to come here, him and Luca.
Giuseppe might deny it or refuse to take a side, but we all knew you could leave the mafia, but the mafia would never leave you. I let him be because he was an old friend of mine who had proved his loyalty to me years ago.
And because he pays his due with useful information. I don't know what is between him and Carmello, but I trust him enough not to doubt him.
Everyone knows that Giuseppe's words are his currency, and Luca was right. We need an alliance.
I'm a stubborn fucker, but I'm not so arrogant as to admit when I'm wrong with the Irish trying to move into our turf in New York, which, if we're being honest, was Alessandro's turf.
But my cousin and I have an understanding. He wouldn't get in the way of my business as long as I didn't get in the way of his.
It's ironic that he refused to be Capo, yet he's now the underground, uncrowned king of New York, while Alessio is busy conquering the business world.
“Your grandfather and I did not see eye to eye. He was a stubborn old fool,” Carmelo began. There were no arguments there; my Nonno was a fucking bastard and an idiot, we all knew that, but for Carmelo to insult him in my presence is disrespectful.
I could feign being offended.
“Did you call me here to hurl insults at my late grandfather, Carmello? Because I would remind you that your father was equally an idiot who was found dead with his dick in his hand,” I growled. Fabio chuckled, Luca snickered.
Guns were suddenly being pulled out as both our enforcers pointed their guns at each other. Nobody moved as I waited for Carmello's reaction. My blood heats with the anticipation of violence as I grin at my opponent.