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“Enjoy your evening,” I told them before walking off, heading toward the private elevator. I was certain I’d left a bad taste in his mouth. There would be more.
As I slipped the keycard into the slot, visions of Sarah’s face drifted into my mind. She’d become a distraction, which wasn’t in my best interest. Soon, she’d be seen as my weakness. I needed to prepare myself for being shoved into the line of fire. Additional security was already being installed at my house in the Hamptons as well as the condo in the city. I’d continue to use both for the time being.
I took long strides down the hallway toward my office, hearing voices just before walking in. When I opened the door, I took my time studying each man. They all came from powerful families across the United States, every syndicate commanding several states near their home base. The fact several inquiries had been made about taking the vacant seat left by my brother’s death was a clear indication of how powerful the Brotherhood had become. I couldn’t take admittance lightly.
Still, the men stood staring at me in a way that immediately pissed me off. I wasn’t here to parade around like some circus freak. If that’s what they wanted, they could shove it up their asses.
Constantine grinned as I closed the door, approaching with a drink already in his hand. “I hope you don’t mind that we made ourselves at home.”
“Of course not. It’s my pleasure.” Or was it? The Russian known as the Butcher held an icy glare. Maxim Nikitin was formidable. The fact he’d been adopted, thereby receiving his position, had been thrown in his face far too often, which made him an overachiever. Diego Santos was soon to take over from his ailing father, the cartel unlike any others I’d come in contact with. The family was sophisticated, owning a huge percentage of movie production firms and music houses in LA. They’d found a niche outside of illegal drugs, which was impressive. I’d spent time on every member, learning about their various activities. They were all savages.
I half smiled as I headed toward the bar, pouring a tall scotch.
While Phoenix Diamondis was the most jovial of the group, at least from what I’d heard, today he wore a scowl. Commanding Philadelphia was tough under any circumstances. With the Albanians breathing down his neck, he had his hands full with protecting his vast territory.
Brogan Callahan was the most interesting. He was a licensed psychiatrist, his position in the family likely never dragging him to the throne. He had full Irish blood running through his veins, although his accent was slight, but I’d heard he had a vengeful temper. Perhaps we’d get along just fine.
“Allow me to make the introductions,” Constantine commented.
I leaned against the edge of my desk, curious as to what he’d say about every man, surprised when there was no glowing review of the person’s accomplishments, only a simple matter-of-fact statement about each one. It was the same information I’d secured myself.
“Gentlemen. My brother spoke highly of you,” I said, although Maxim was the first to catch the terse tone in my voice.
“But you don’t approve,” he threw at me.
“It’s not for me to approve or disapprove,” I said, turning my head in his direction.
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” he continued.
“Because I invited him,” Constantine stated. His voice held the same kind of control as my brother’s had, but there was anger in his tone. “Luciano was a valued member of the Brotherhood. You knew his wishes as all of us know each other’s. He had a say in who he wanted to be his successor in the case of his death. You will not take that lightly.”
The news was a surprise to me. I hadn’t realized Luciano had thought of me so highly. Luciano and Constantine had gone to the same college, Brogan a competing university, yet all three men had formed a bond, creating an empire of their own that spanned between the two schools. They were considered bad seeds, men not to be fucked with. The other two had been invited after an extensive search, and a determination that what they had to offer was best served keeping them as ‘friends.’ I only wondered how far the loyalty would go if push came to shove.
“Constantine is right,” Brogan commented. “We will not fuck with that. Gabriel is now the head of the Cosa Nostra. The family is important to all of us, and you know that.”
“That all depends on if you plan on making changes,” Phoenix piped in.
“There is always room for change. However, the rules and standards of my family will remain the same.” What was the man getting at?
He exhaled, giving his nod of approval after a few seconds. “Then so be it. I’m ready for the vote.”
“Yeah. I have other issues to attend to,” Brogan said in passing.
“Very well. Then cast your vote. You should know, Gabriel, that it requires a one hundred percent approval in order for you to become a member.”
I glanced at Constantine, no longer surprised at the level of formality. In a game where all six of us were kings of our own empire, rivals in a dangerous game of power, strict rules would be necessary in order to keep one from feeding off another. That didn’t mean we weren’t predators, using every method to protect what belonged to us, but it did provide barriers that could not be crossed.
I could only imagine the punishment if one of us did.
“Gabriel Giordano is being offered a seat on the Brotherhood. What is your vote?” Constantine asked.
There was silence in the room for almost a full minute. It was at that moment I was forced to accept that while apart we were formidable, if required to work together, we would be an indestructible force.
Sighing, I took a sip of my drink, watching the ceremonial process with curiosity. One by one the men nodded, except for Maxim.
He walked closer, which instantly made me bristle. He was nothing but a viper, a man who had no emotions other than rage. “Your brother wasn’t the kind of man who should have been in the Brotherhood. He was weak. I’ve heard you are impassive, which makes you nothing but another weak link we do not need.” With that, he turned around, his lack of confidence pissing me off, but not nearly as much as what he’d just said about my flesh and blood. No one talked about my family, whether dead or alive, in such a disrespectful way.
Without hesitation, I slammed the drink on the bar, wrapping one arm around his neck while I ripped out my knife with the other, pressing the sharp tip against his jugular.
