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After taking my helmet off, I fluff out my curls, using my phone camera to make sure I look halfway decent. Then I untuck the white linen shirt I wore for my hit and tie it right above where my high-waisted black jeans sit. Usually, I dress to the nines for these meetings, but Papà made it clear that this hit, and the meeting following it, was a priority. I didn’t have time to stop at home and change, so I need to work with what I have.
When I walk into the makeshift conference room, I note that I’m the last person to arrive. After kissing Papà on the cheek, I sit in the open seat next to Maximo, taking one of the pizzelle he offers me from his plate. It’s a crispy, thin cookie that resembles a waffle and has a hint of anise flavoring and powdered sugar. One of my top ten sweets.
“Thanks for finally joining us, sorella,” my brother John Carlo snarks. His almost black hair is slicked back with his assessing blue eyes trained on me, his lips puckered in annoyance like he sucked on a particularly sour lemon today, not the regular kind that plagues his life.
He’s the next oldest, born three years before Maximo and me. Our birthdays are three days apart, and our eye color and Gemini zodiac signs are the only things we share in common. He’s a complete ass to me the majority of the time. He’ll never admit it, but he hates that I have a seat at the table. Maybe because I’m a woman? Or because he sees me as competition. He’s the only sibling at the table who doesn’t have a part in the legitimate side of the business we’ve worked on growing over the past two decades.
Maybe he finds it difficult to stand out amongst the five of us or feels like he’ll be left out. I can’t relate, because I’ve put the blood, sweat, and tears into making myself indispensable. I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to be taken seriously as the first and only female capo.
“Some of us had to come straight from work.” I take another bite of the crispy cookie, taking care not to get any powdered sugar on my mauve lipstick.
“How did that job go?” Papà asks.
“It’s done. Vinny and Bruno are taking over the final stage. I want to talk to you privately about Bruno after our meeting.” My frown is enough to let him know that it won’t be a pleasant conversation.
“Bruno is a good man. Why do you have to antagonize him?” John Carlo interjects.
I ignore him, opting to talk to Maximo instead. I learned a long time ago that getting into an argument with JC is exactly what he wants. He craves a screaming match, so he can prove how I’m too emotional to be here. Ignoring him is like denying oxygen to a flame. It pisses him off and reminds him exactly how unimportant I find him.
The rest of my brothers truly love me. We’re all busy, but if I need them, they’re there for me no matter what. I’m not sure where things between John Carlo and I went wrong, but the chasm between us seems impossible to bridge.
My father clears his throat, signaling that it’s time for the meeting to start. His Consigliere, my Zio Tomasso, covers the housekeeping items first. Tomasso isn’t actually my uncle, but my papà’s best friend since childhood and Maximo’s, Franco’s, and my godfather. My nonno saw tons of potential in him and knew his intelligence would serve the famiglia well. He paid his way from private high school through law school.
He’s also my mentor. Whenever I need an outside opinion from Papà and my brothers, I always come to him. He’s never steered me wrong.
Then my father moves onto his capos, addressing them in order of years served under his leadership. My brothers and I call these men Zio as well, out of respect. Most of them knew me since I was a girl, and having them take me seriously was a battle hard fought. I’m still fighting it with some of them.
Eventually, my father gets to Franco, my eldest brother. He’s the heir to the entire empire. He shadows my father, acting as his left hand. Although he’s the face of our legal entities, he works with all of our affairs.
“Franco, any updates?” Papà asks.
“Yes. The property in Upper Manhattan we’ve been keeping an eye on will officially be on the market next week. I’ve already made arrangements with the seller. They’ll take fifteen percent over market value so we don’t have to participate in a buying competition. Thanks for the leverage, Maddie. It was instrumental in getting them to see it our way.”
Franco looks like a younger version of my father. The only difference is that he shares my and my siblings’ blue eyes, whereas Papà’s eyes are a warm brown.
“Any time,” I assure him. Obviously, Maximo is my favorite brother—we shared a womb—but Franco is my second favorite. I’d do just about anything to support him, including threatening one of the most prominent old-money families in NYC.
My father skips over Luca, my second eldest brother who handles our security and weapons. They hold their meetings privately.
“JC?” Papà inquires. “I’m sure you handled the situation at Vixen appropriately?” John Carlo handles our strip clubs, gambling rings, and the drugs we push through them. An issue with a handsy patron at our flagship club turned into a whole debacle because my brother never managed it properly from the start.
“He didn’t see the error of his ways the first or second time this happened, so I disposed of him… in the Hudson,” JC explains. “He won’t be darkening our doorstep again.”
“There shouldn’t have been a second or third time for this to happen,” Franco says in a deadly calm voice. My brother isn’t talkative or emotive. For Franco to dress down JC in public means he’s made it to the top of my brother’s shit list.
“You’ve had three dancers quit in the past two months since you took over the clubs from Zio Angelo after his retirement,” I comment. “They all said they no longer felt safe there. I found two of them positions in our restaurants as servers, but one of them declined any work from the famiglia. I had to convince her that talking about us, our establishments, or anything she thinks she knows is not in her best interest.”
“You have no business talking to my employees,” JC snarls at me from across the table. “You need to stay in your lane and stop stepping on my toes.”
I ignore his outburst. “Ex-employees, fratello, keep up. It is my business. Part of my job as a fixer, oddly enough, is fixing things, and that includes managing situations before damage control is needed. Disgruntled employees can go to the alphabet agencies, but happy ones stay loyal. Remember, I know everything. Information is my game.”
I stare at him for a long moment, letting the wheels in his head turn. JC isn’t as careful as the rest of us. He has made some sloppy decisions on the job, like sleeping with the strippers. Sampling the drugs. Partying too much.
I won’t hesitate to use what I know against him if his actions hurt the famiglia, and he knows that.
His hand moves to his holstered gun, probably out of instinct. I’m sure he probably feels cornered. Maybe his masculinity feels threatened or some dumb shit like that. However, I can’t let that move slide. He’ll never intimidate me.
“I hear Aurora is doing well.”
