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Sergey took a swig of his drink. “What happened?”
“I got a call from New York this morning. Five of our men were found dead and the Outfit did it. They’ll be coming for us here in Chicago if we do nothing about it.”
“What do you suggest?” Sergey asked, his question directed to Nikolai this time.
“Another war will be bad for business for now. We can try negotiating with them.”
Max shook his head. “Salvatore won’t agree to any negotiations. This is not about being loyal to the Giovanni Pietro. He sees it as an opportunity for a change in power.”
Sergey chuckled, his voice gruff and thick with the arrogance that looks best on him. “Thatublyudokwill never get to rule Chicago or even New York. Even if I were dead and rotting six feet under.”
“That, I can agree with.” I didn’t like to discuss business or taking over the world with my brothers, simply because it was a disturbance to my brain. I was an enforcer and the job was simple. All I had to do was take orders of who I needed to cripple or fix a bullet in their head.
Thinking and racking my brain was too much work.
“Vlad, you. Vincent Russo has a gala coming up tomorrow. You’ll be in attendance.”
“Only if I can ride my bike down there and wear whatever I want.” Wearing a suit was torture. It was in my best interest to wear anything but that. I’d almost died trying to look like a gentleman at Sergey’s and Nikolai’s wedding.
Sergey frowned. “Find something decent and wear it.”
“What’s Vincent planning this time?”
“He just signed off a deal with an art gallery. The fucker’s most likely using the gallery as a font for money laundering. Doesn’t matter, we need to form some sort of alliance with him.”
Vincent Russo was the capo of the Camorra. He was old, but just as ruthless and cruel as my brothers and I. Almost just as powerful. Sergey was right that an alliance with him would not only keep the Outfit in stall until we were ready to fight back, it would also keep the Cosa Nostra from trying to attack.
Their capo and his son died at our hands in a space of two years, it was only logical that they would try to get their revenge. But logical wasn’t what they needed right now, laying low was, and I didn’t trust them to have enough common sense to know it though.
“How do you intend to form an alliance with them?” I asked. I couldn’t see a way to do that. Vincent didn’t need our protection, he could protect himself and a business deal wasn’t going to cut it as well.
The only way a real alliance could happen between both of our families was by marriage. If that was what Sergey had in mind, then I could only pity Maxim.
***
A week later, I found myself wearing a black, crisp Tom Ford suit, holding a glass of champagne when it was whiskey I preferred and roaming around a fancy party hall.
Meaningless conversations weren’t my thing, so I tried to avoid unnecessary interactions with the other guests. Still, mostpeople in our society could spot a Vadim from miles away, and they were always quick to try and be in our good records.
“You’re looking quite handsome tonight.”
I cringed. Lorenzo was fifty-six, bald-headed, short, and round. Why would a fifty-six-year-old man compliment my looks? I took a sip of my wine. “What do you want?”
It always boiled down to one thing: an alliance of some sort. They either needed our protection or a collaboration. Whatever it was, they needed something and I preferred if they would get right to it.
He chuckled, scratching the bald spot at the top of his head. “Well, you see. I heard you recently purchased a part of DeAngelo hotel, I was thinking…”
“If you want to discuss business, I think one of my brothers would be best for it. Business isn’t my thing.” I looked around the hall. Sergey was supposed to be here somewhere. I hadn’t seen him since I came in.
“Maybe you can put in a good word for me with your brother?”
Maybe I can put a bullet in your head.
I didn’t say that to him though, didn’t want the old man pissing himself from fear. “Sure.”
He smiled, his almost-grey eyes glistening with excitement. “Thank you.”
I nodded.
