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Francesco
Monsters.
My father’s sentiment had been completely accurate. There was an art to becoming a beast of the night, a creature with no conscience. I’d perfected being callous, cruel, and heartless with only a single exception.
My niece and nephew.
Other than that I was completely devoid of humanity or guilt. That’s why I was damn good at what I did, refusing to accept a single weakness. Booze. Gambling. Women. Cigars. Expensive possessions. I had whatever desired proclivity at my fingertips and enjoyed my share of all of them but never to excess. That’s how the weak were singled out, crushed like worthless rodents.
Business.
Over the last few years, the holdings of the Arturo–Powers enterprise had increased by three hundred percent. We were a formidable force by anyone’s standards, including those considered on the right side of the law. One of the reasons for our success, although there were a dozen others, was that Maxwell Powers’ innate knowledge of the military, corporate mergers and acquisitions, coupled with my father’s more brutal legacy of handling our more unscrupulous clients, meant our powerful billion-dollar operation was well versed in both legal and illegal activities. I’d fought shifting more toward our businesses that were completely on the up and up but could no longer deny their profitability.
That had also reduced our need for violence. It had been thirty months since we’d crushed our former enemy, the Bianchis, sending them back to New Jersey.
However, if I’d learned anything through my years of working within the organization, there wasn’t a single person alive who didn’t crowd the moral line at least once in their careers. Sadly, those who seemed to do so without conscience performed better, their greed and hunger for power driving them to the top of their game. I’d also learned that patience was often the key to success, something that had taken me a long and very painful time to understand, let alone embrace.
I was within months of taking over as Don, Maxwell eager to retire. Perhaps the truth was that he’d pushed himself to the top of the leaderboard in the various industries, fighting against and for criminal activities in his quest to act on revenge for my father’s murder. The fact they’d been best friends during my father’s stranger than life stint in the Marines was something my sister never allowed me to forget.
Max was far too young to retire, but he would never leave the corporation or the security firm he still owned with our Consigliere, Viper Briggs. Keeping both had broadened our reach from New York to California, proving helpful more than once.
We’d eliminated several enemies along the way, but I’d learned that when you removed one, another would be waiting in the shadows. At least our world had been peaceful, allowing for more of a normal life.
It was Raleigh’s love for the man that had kept me from killing him when I was eighteen, the anger I had inside of me caustic and uncontrollable. While Max and I would never consider ourselves close friends, as my brother-in-law and as the most powerful Don in the entire United States, I respected him more than I ever did my father.
That was saying something.
Maybe his conscientious handling of my brutal methods of acting on business was the reason, or that through his love of my sister, two of the most adorable children in the entire world had been produced. I often laughed at the fact the two kids had me wrapped around their little fingers.
Meghan and Brock had come to mind simply because I needed to pick up a birthday present for my niece, the party scheduled for the next night. While my assistant normally handled obtaining what few gifts I purchased for clients, or an occasional woman scorned, I insisted on purchasing the ones for my family.
If only my Capos knew at the ripe old age of thirty, I’d turned into a total softie. Well, only when kids were involved. Anything else was fair game.
Including what I was doing at the meeting that I hadn’t scheduled. The fucker had wanted to meet in a public setting, likely because Carmine Capello had gotten wind of the fact I’d considered placing a hit on him. It wasn’t something our regime did on a regular basis as it was considered the old method of doing business and risky in the modern environment. However, in this case, it had brought the weasel out in the open, likely prepared to beg for his life. Or for forgiveness.
Either way, I wasn’t interested in his atrocious lies, only that he hand over the portion of the business that had been contractually obligated to our corporation. If he signed on the dotted line as promised to Maxwell, then I’d allow him to live.
For now.
I’d already talked it over with Max. He agreed the man would need to be made an example of, the rumblings of a weakness already tarnishing our reputation. However, it wouldn’t be tonight, not in a family-style Italian restaurant in the heart of Little Italy. I was a savage man, something no one would argue against, but I did what I could not to place the lives of women and children in harm’s way. That had become a part of my character the day my best friend had been murdered three years before. I was still taking care of his widowed fiancée and the little boy he’d never met. They were considered family as much as my sister and her kids.
Unfortunately, Carmine knew that as well, which was the reason he selected this particular location.
I eased out of the SUV, studying the front of the restaurant. It had been years since I’d visited, once a location my father had adored bringing us as kids after I’d grown out of my highchair. Maybe because it had been our mother’s favorite. It left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I buttoned my jacket as Cayman rounded the back of the vehicle.
We stood quietly together, studying the facility as if there would be some additional answers provided. I’d taken the meeting for Max, allowing him time to prepare for the party.
“Did you get Meghan’s present yet?” he asked, which forced me to laugh.
He knew me better than most, our friendship odd yet something I could count on like the trust I’d placed in the man. I’d visited his parents on two occasions, both treating me like a long-lost son.
He’d taken four bullets for me and I’d taken one for him. We would no doubt do so again.
“Not yet. After you drop me off later, I’ll pick it up.”
“You did get the right thing, the little riding outfit I suggested?”
I yanked off my sunglasses, shoving them into my pocket, trying not to laugh from the concern in his voice. “I know what I’m doing, bro. Trust me.”
