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CHAPTERNINETEEN
Alessandro
The last thing I wanted to do tonight was have a business meeting, especially with the way Rachel’s been avoiding me, but Giulio insisted. It’s about reassuring the underbosses from other clans that we have this handled, he told me. Pietro agreed.
I know that everyone is on edge with the serial killer still and that this meeting arranged by most of the Cosa Nostra families is also a show of courage in the face of fear. We can’t let the Russians think that we are scared. Because fear breeds insubordination and death. None of us can afford it.
My attendance is mandatory. I find myself in the backseat of my SUV. My suit is sharp, tailored to perfection. It’s a deep midnight blue, accentuating the broad lines of my shoulders and the crisp white shirt beneath. The silk tie is a rich shade of burgundy, a pop of color in an otherwise monochromatic ensemble. My cufflinks gleam, elegant in their simplicity.
I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and I can’t shake the unease that lingers beneath my composed facade.
Something about this night feels off.
I am not sure why, but I can’t shake the feeling.
The meeting is being held at Babinski, a club I love to visit, even if tonight I’m not exactly in the mood to enjoy it. The prospect of sipping on Negronis is one of the few things keeping my spirits from sinking too low. If I can’t enjoy the company, I can at least indulge in the bitter symphony of flavors in my glass.
As we pull up to the club, I can already feel the energy of the night pressing in on me. I step out of the SUV, the cold night air wrapping around me. The club’s doorman nods, recognizing me. I give him a tight-lipped smile in return, and he steps aside to let me pass.
The crowd is a sea of suits and elegant dresses, each person with their own agenda, their own secrets. I navigate the room with the grace of a practiced dancer, moving seamlessly through the waves of people.
I spot my brother. He walks over, a shot glass in hand.
“I was wondering if you’d ever come,” Giulio exclaims, clasping me on the shoulder. “Two of the men are already upstairs, Vinnie is obviously the last one to arrive.” He is Luca’s younger brother, and has now taken over as head of their family.
“I am staying here for just an hour, two tops. I should head up and meet the two underbosses. When Vinnie shows up, bring him up.”
“Okay. They are in the VIP rooms but I think they are entertaining some women. You just got here, have a drink. Dance a little.”
“Which room?” I ask, ignoring his teasing. Giulio does not get it. I don’t have the luxury of just sitting back and relaxing.
Giulio points out the room and I notice the guard standing outside of it. Perfect.
Giulio looks around and then waves at someone I vaguely recognize, “I spot some of the guys. Talk to you later?”
“Of course.”
As soon as my little brother walks away, I make my way to the VIP room he pointed out.
I can’t help but feel the weight of anticipation hanging in the air. There’s an electric energy pulsating through the club, and I can sense the significance of the gathering tonight. My footsteps echo against the polished marble floors, each step bringing me closer to a conversation that could reshape our alliances.
The VIP room, a sanctuary within the club’s vibrant chaos, is dimly lit and filled with the muffled chatter of people who wield power and secrets.
As I step inside, the room greets me with an olfactory embrace—a heady blend of whisky and the lingering remnants of cigar smoke. The dim lighting casts a warm, amber glow, making the atmosphere feel both clandestine and nostalgic. My eyes sweep the room, taking in the details.
I can’t help but notice the familiar setup—a table and a mirror, just like the room where Rachel and I had shared a night. I remember how it had felt to make her come so hard she had cried.
The recollection tugs at my heart, a reminder of a past that feels distant now.
Fuck. I miss her.
I want to kiss her, pin her to the mattress and make her scream my name. It is one of the reasons that pushes me forward in the negotiations with these people. If I make my people safe, then I can work to ensure that she is safe as well, which is kind of counterintuitive now that she won’t even answer her fucking phone or respond to her texts.
I will fix it.
My gaze finally settles on the two men seated at the table. One is a man I have heard of but never seen. He must be Benito. I exchange nods with him and then my attention shifts to Russo.
I address them in Italian.“Salve,” I offer as a greeting. The gravity of the evening isn’t lost on any of us.
