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“Tell me, Don Pacheco,” I take out my notepad and pen, “has anyone asked what you want for your territory?” I keep my voice steady but inviting. I lean heavily into the role the Don has already assigned me.
Ettore Pacheco considers me for a moment before lacing his fingers together and resting back, his hands on his round belly. “I want a smooth transition. My men, the ones who already work for me, must be incorporated into the new family and taken care of. My sons are to be given high positions or possibly married into the family.”
I make notes, nodding my head in agreement. “Anything else?”
“I want a purchase amount. You can decide what you think this area is worth to you. But I also want a monthly retirement share that will see me through my old age, which will be transferred to my eldest son to take care of our family upon my passing.” He smiles. “Can you offer such things?”
“It is my job to put together a proposal for you that Don Sorvino approves of,” I say confidently. “What kind of percentage of sales are you looking for to see you through your retirement?”
“Forty percent.” It’s said with such finality that I have to suppress a laugh.
Instead, I nod and say, “I understand why you’d want to come in so high, but I’m afraid if we’re going to talk forty percent monthly shares until the end of time, or your lineage, then we take off the down payment for the area, which I can assure you, is a satisfying amount,” I make a few notes. “I don’t think anyone else would agree to those terms.”
“The Russians will,” he smiles, a knowing smile that tells me one of the Russian families, probably the Volkovs, has already been here.
I purse my lips and nod. “Perhaps they would, and I won’t lie, Staten Islands operations are valuable to us. But I can offer more than the Russians can.”
I don’t know what that is, but he doesn’t need to know that. I need to know what Evgenii is offering him that didn’t appear on the paperwork I photographed.
“Why don’t you allow your sons to inherit the area and continue operations?” I’m trying to divert the conversation now, and it works.
“They’re soft. They’ve never gotten their hands dirty, always asking others to do their bidding. They need good positions. They’re good with paperwork. Something easy.”
I make a note of this and smile. “I think we have perfect positions for them, but you’ll see that in my proposal.”
Ettore stands. “I have another meeting to attend. I will expect your first proposal. We are open to negotiations once the first proposal is sent if it is mostly satisfactory, and from there, we will reach a final proposal and decide who gets the area without any fuss.”
“I appreciate that you don’t want to shed any blood or cause any wars.” I pack away my notes and stand. “Don Pacheco, thank you for seeing me, and I am excited to give you the Sorvino family proposal in three days.”
A guard escorts me out of the building, and I walk toward my car. I notice Evgenii parking across the road but don’t look directly at him.
I get into my car and casually drive off, not acknowledging him at all. I can’t even be sure that he saw me. My mind is reeling with thoughts about him.
Last night was…well, it was the best sex we’ve ever had, from what I can remember. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t had sex in a long time that it had an extra impact on me. I’m busy. I work all the time. I don’t have time to play boys’ games, no matter how much interest they show.
I park at La Club to discuss what I can offer Ettore with Frankie, but when I stop, I hear my phone buzz. I take it out, and I see I have a message from Evgenii. He’s trying too hard and coming off as desperate. Does he think I’m that stupid to fall for his tricks again?
The message asks if I would go to dinner that night with him. I sigh, I already have a charity event on for Miguel.
I message Evgenii back and propose a counteroffer that he can meet me at the event and take things from there.
A sudden knock on my window gives me a heart attack, and my hand flies to my chest. “Jesus!”
Dominic laughs. “Nope, just Dominic, thanks.”
I get out of the car, rolling my eyes at the jackass. “You’re an ass. You know that?”
“You love me, though,” he laughs. “I was on my way out and just wanted to say hi. You looking for Frankie?”
“Yes, I have some figures I need to discuss with him,” I grab my bag and lock my car. “Off you skedaddle then. All our numbers will probably bore you to death.”
“I never did like Math,” he says. He kisses both my cheeks and walks off, straightening his jacket.
I walk toward La Club, Evgenii still on my mind. Did he fall for me toward the end? Does he regret what he did? I fucking doubt it.
He knew exactly what he was doing, and you know, that’s just business in this industry. It’s cut-throat, and you do what you have to do to succeed, which is why I have no issue returning the favor.
I walk into the office where Frankie is staring at his computer screen. He glances up. “Hey, Shirls.”
