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I left my gym and jogged up the stairs toward the front of my house. Brazino stood at my bay window looking out with his hands clasped behind his back. He was a hulk of a man. Big, large, balding hair, slight hump in his back. Scary looking, really. Probably what most would picture when one describes a killer. He must have heard me enter the sitting area because without turning around, he started speaking, “No one is fooled by this relationship with St. James’ daughter. Engaged? No one has ever seen you together.”
“Anyone who mattered saw us together seven years before our fathers forbade us to date. And anyone who matters has seen us together now.” I folded my arms and leaned against the door jamb. “Why are you here in my home unannounced? Out of respect for the commission, I’m allowing you this pass. Don’t let it happen again.”
He chuckled. “Is that your threat?”
“Not a threat. A warning. No one stops by my home uninvited, I don’t give a fuck who you are.”
Brazino turned around to face me. His nose and cheeks flushed. “I need you to level with me. Have you gone against the commission and made a deal for parts of St. James’s Harlem in exchange for their bitch?”
I straightened up and quipped with a smile. “You must not care whether you live or die, Brazino. Disrespect my future wife one more time, and you’re a fucking dead man regardless of the commission.”
At my smile and calm manner, both his unruly brows raised, and he held one hand up. “No disrespect intended. Some of our wives are bitches.”
I moved closer to him. “Mine is a queen and will be treated as such. If I ever hear you’ve called her that or anyone else has called her anything but her fucking name, death will be on each of your houses.”
As I approached him until I stood within an inch of him, he blustered, “You can’t threaten the commission.”
I jabbed him in his fucking heart. “When it comes to that woman and my family, I don’t give a fuck about the rules.”
Brazino flinched. “We chose you over Brocco because you were allegedly the more level-headed one. Apparently, Don Francis was wrong about both of you.”
“Enzo made the decision. Do you want me to call him and tell him you disagree with his and Don Francis’s, my father’s, decision? I have Enzo’s number on speed dial. We can settle this right now.”
His round face only reddened more. No one could ever question Enzo and expect to live. Right or wrong, everyone followed his edict once he made a decision.
I stalked to my door and opened it, “This meeting is done.”
“Come on, Gavin. You can’t be so sensitive about your family.” Brazino softened his tone and remained standing near the window. Probably afraid that death was right around the corner once he stepped out of my home.
I scoffed loudly. “Do you really want me to talk about your family? That your family’s domination over Manhattan is coming to an end because you’ve run it into the ground with your weak ass sons, your big mouth bitches, and your inability to refrain from using your own fucking product. You can’t stop twitching or sniffing for a fucking second. Go and report back to the commission and tell them that I’ve loved Storm St. James for seven years, and we’re getting married. Her family is not giving her to me in exchange for property because she’s a fucking human being and not some fucking chattel. In fact, her brother would love to put two bullets in the back of my head but won’t out of respect for his sister. All of Harlem remains St. James. And don’t ever come here again without scheduling an appointment.”
He thudded toward me, each step heavier than the last. When he reached me, he spewed, “Your father never treated me this way.”
“And my father ended up dead as a result. As you just said, my father was wrong about his sons. Don’t let this pretty face and smile fool you....the commission just saved you from death this morning.” I pushed back the door, and Storm stood just on the other side, beautiful and strong. Wearing an old kimono silk robe of hers that I kept. Her eyes blazed. She’d overheard.
“Morning, Baby.” She immediately slid under my arms and placed her left hand against my chest. The yellow diamond solitaire I’d left in my drawer adorned her ring finger. “Is everything okay?”
“He’s leaving.” I pressed my lips against hers. “Morning.”
Brazino quickly straightened and nodded with his hat in his hand. “Forgive my intrusion. Congratulations on your engagement and well wishes on your nuptials.”
My future wife smiled graciously. “No need to say things you don’t mean, Mr. Brazino. You don’t like my family or me, and we don’t like you either.” She then looked at me. “I’ll make us some smoothies and let you finish up in here.”
My chest swelled as she sauntered out of the room without another glance at Brazino. She would be my perfect queen as we ran our family business. She would love me again, of course. I opened the door wider for Brazino, who’s face remained indignantly red. “No one dismisses me.”
“Whether you respect my status or not, we are equal under the commission. Now if you want to step outside their rules, I’m so fucking game.” Big Tony stood outside and opened his jacket, showing his gun. “You came to my home uninvited. I am more than within my rights to consider this a threat and take you out right now. Who would argue with my decision to take you out?”
His lips curved into a smile that belied the hate-throwing daggers from his eyes. “I come and leave in peace. My questions were answered. See you and your brother at the next meeting.”
I didn’t bother to walk him out. Brazino wanted to make moves into Harlem. His arrogance and lack of respect for the very rules that allowed him to have most of Manhattan without the threat of constant war was the commission. I entered my office, picked up my secured line, and called Brocco.
“What’s up, little bro?” Brocco never called me little bro until I ascended to the throne. It was his way of reminding me of my true place in the family, and I never corrected him. He needed at least this much.
“Brazino stopped by unannounced, questioning me about Storm and the St. James family.”
“He still plans to make a move.”
“He does. Now that he knows DeLuca doesn’t own Harlem.”
