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This old man really believes he can orchestrate attacks on the Kislevs, lay a false trail to incriminate the Morettis, go to the mafia commission with the so-called ‘evidence,’ and he, Sissi Barone, will be the hero? I fucking think not. If anyone is gonna fuck over a mafia famiglia just so they can steal both power and favor in New York City, it’s gonna be me. I’m doing all the goddamn work.
I didn’t expect Arman to be so tenacious. The bastard is more intelligent than I thought and seems to give a shit about the girl. If I’d thought he’d succeed in preventing her abduction tonight, I’d never have planned it that way.
I hired Marco to pick her up, tell her he was a Moretti soldier, give her a good scare, and drop her off. I would have just murdered the incompetent asshole, but then Arman got hold of him—Jesus fucking Christ. It was close. I had to stare Marco down and remind him what was at stake if he opened his mouth, or he’d have ratted me out there and then.
“The Morettis will deny everything,” Sissi says, tapping his foot on the floor. “Don Giovanni is still in Sicily, but when he comes back, he’s not gonna take this lying down.”
“He can deny it until he’s blue in the face,” I reply. “We went over this, Boss. I’ll take the nightclub CCTV footage and do some chopping and re-cutting. Some Moretti guys were drifting around who would have been caught on camera.”
“Why the fuck are the Moretti guys within a thousand miles of the Kislevs?” Sissi asks. “Surely they know that’s unwise.”
I shake my head. “Dumb is as dumb does. Giovanni left his brother Aldo in charge, and seeing as it’s him who set this bullshit in motion, he wants to save face. Aldo is hiding; it’s his men who are out there acting like nothing’s wrong.”
Sissi exhales through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “This is why Don Giovanni hasn’t rushed back, right? Aldo hasn’t told him what’s happening with the Kislevs because he’s not responsible.”
“Correct.” I light a cigar. “He’s playing right into our hands. By the time Giovanni Moretti answers for these incidents before his commission, it’ll be too late, and no one will believe him or Aldo. It won’t matter what they say; the suspicion will be enough, and they’ll be forced to cede their territories and interests to the Kislevs as compensation.”
I blow a smoke ring. “I’ll be looking for a hefty cut of the spoils in recognition of my tireless work bringing the bastards to justice.”
“I’ll be entitled to claim, not you,” Sissi snaps. “You are not a mafia man, nor married to a mafia or bratva daughter. You work for me.”
It’s in my interests to apologize and show the man deference, but it takes me a few seconds to marshall the strength to fake respect.
“I beg your forgiveness, Don Barone,” I say, bowing my head.
Sissi is no longer listening. He waves his hand at me, and just like that, I’m dismissed.
If Sissi’s suite is dingy, mine is fucking disgusting. I switch on the light and watch the roaches scatter before kicking off my shoes and lying on the bed, listening to the car horns and sirens outside.
I’m thinking about accidents. Accidents of birth, circumstance, and fate.
Arman was lucky enough to be taken in and treated like a son by Sergey Kislev, a man reviled by his peers as the most ruthless piece of shit ever to lead a Russian mafia family. I never knew the guy, but from what I’ve heard, he was one of a kind—a man who never let his family stand in the way of his ambition.
Easy to take that approach when you’re already up there.
Arman never spoke about his family, but after a skinful of prison hooch one night, he told me that his father’s death devastated him. He said it was nothing more than a blip in the fabric of existence, a glitch; mere moments could have changed everything. He never gave any details, but I could relate.
For my Papa, too, an accident of fate could have changed things. If only he had been stronger, more loyal. I have nothing and no one anymore; when my father left Mom, he had little more than the shirt on his back, but I sometimes wonder if he ever realized what else he took. Mama’s sanity, my peace of mind—everything that mattered went with him. From then on, she looked at me and saw my father. She couldn’t punish him, but that was okay; she always had me to blame for her troubles.
I wasted so much energy on keeping her alive and safe. Private hospitals, rehab, therapy. All paid for with money I stole through fraud and corporate thefts. I had a decent job and prospects, but I couldn’t keep up with her insanity. There were things she asked of me that I wanted to do, but couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried.
But I eventually gave her what she wanted, and she died knowing I did her proud. I was in jail at the time and didn’t even attend her funeral, but in reality, she was dead long before her body gave up. Once she got her revenge on my father, she had nothing to live for.
My head hurts, and I massage my temples to ease the pressure.
It’s nothing personal against Arman; the cunt just doesn’t deserve his charmed life. He’s a nobody just like me. Why does he get a seat at the table while I lie on the floor, hoping someone will deign to throw me some scraps?
Sissi Barone may be holding my leash, but one day soon, I’ll turn and bite the hand that feeds me.
I’ll bite it right to the fucking bone.
28
Five hours later…
Arman
Ifiddle with my cufflinks and stare at the ornate crucifix on the wall. Only a Catholic church could have such a graphic scene of torture presiding over something as tender as a wedding, but maybe it’s an omen.
