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When I walk into Claudius’ building where he holds his business meetings, the receptionist takes one look at me and calls up to him straightaway.
She knows my face, as do the security guards who instantly straighten up and stop their casual conversation as I walk by them to take the elevator.
There’s an obvious hush of silence as the women by the coffee machine see me step out of the elevator when the door dings open. I get to Claudius’ door down the corridor and knock.
This here is where that respect and fear I was just shown recedes. Whoever’s in that office with him will be guys on par with me, even if they are capos. He has a different setup to us in who he’s chosen to fill his hierarchy. They’re his closest friends. The Giordanos, on the other hand, are more family orientated.
I push the door open when he gives me the go-ahead, and I see exactly who I expected to see inside.
Claudius is sitting around his desk with the bright morning sunlight beaming on the tattoo of a cross on his cheek. His father, who is his consigliere, is to his right.
In front of him are his three capo sitting in order of rank. Dante, Gio, and Alex, who have tattoos of crosses on their necks.
I know them all. We grew up together. We were boys together and went through life together. In this business setting, though, it’s professional, so when each looks to me, it’s with acknowledgment of my presence.
“Vincent Giordano. Hello, old friend,” Claudius beams.
“Boss,” I say with a curt nod of my head. These men have been in the height of battle with me more times than I’d like to count.
They are what you call friends. Our alliance with them is strong.
Claudius looks to everyone and nods. “Leave us. Report back on the situation later,” he directs them, and they rise, his father included, and walk past me.
With them gone, I make my way inside and take a seat in front of the guy whom I trust like one of my brothers. He is my oldest friend. He’s the youngest boss in Chicago, and when I become boss, I will join him. We’re the same age.
“It’s weird hearing you call me boss, Boss,” he says to me, and his lips tip up into a small smile.
I chuckle. “Boss, there’s no way I’ll be calling you anything other, especially in front of your men. Pretty sure your father would hand me my ass if I showed you any form of disrespect.”
Claudius laughs. “The way he did when you smashed up his car several moons ago?”
I grin. No one will allow me to forget that story. “Yes, a little like that.”
It started with a stupid fight in our senior year of high school over a girl. I can’t even remember her name. I lost my mind when Claudius set my motorcycle on fire, so I smashed up his car. But it wasn’t his car. It was his father’s, and that day, Marcus Morientz taught me a lesson I’ll never forget.
“What’s going on, Vincent? You don’t usually request to see me in the middle of the day, definitely not so early in the morning. Not that I mind.”
I pull in a deep breath. He’s right. This is unusual. It’s unusual for me too to feel this way without reason. I’m just unsettled, and truth be told, it’s the wrong time to have a woman in my life screwing with my mind.
“There’s something going on that I need some help with.”
“I gathered,” he answers, looking me over. He has one blue eye and one brown. The blue eye is the one I refer to whenever I want to try and figure out what he’s thinking. Right now, I see he’s curious. “What’s the something?”
“it’s the kind of something I shouldn’t be talking to you about until all arrangements are made and deals closed.” He knows from that it’s family business related. I would never insult him by asking him to keep something secret. He knows though too, that’s what my comment implies.
“You have my word, old friend. This conversation never happened.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I draw in a breath and clear my head so I can say all that I need to in the right words. As I clear my mind, I clear my shame over Ava. “The Ivanezh Bratva want to form an alliance with us.”
The second I say that, his face tenses up. A seriousness I never expected washes over it, and he stares at me long and hard.
“The Bratva?” he confirms, and I nod. “And your father would allow this?”
The question is phrased in such a way that it actually gives me the answer of what he might think of the whole idea.
“He wants it, Claudius. You know us mobsters, greedy.” I won’t excuse myself in any way. Greed runs through my blood. It doesn’t with this guy though. He knows when enough is enough.
“Vincent… I don’t like getting involved in things like this. It’s like me pissing on your ability to run business the way you want. Please don’t expect me to tell you what I would do.”
