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Although I am hopeful we are only gone for a few hours, I do know that we are flying right into enemy territory, and we may not come back from this. I am acutely aware that everyone in my immediate circle is now putting their life on the line for Frankie and I, and for that I am both extremely sorry and extremely grateful.
Once we are in the air, I remove my seatbelt and make my way to the end of the plane for some privacy. I make the call I have been wanting to make for the past 48 hours. Not being able to talk with her until I had a plan in mind has been excruciating, but I needed a clear head, I needed to focus and be calm, and think through things.
“Hey,” she picks up on the first ring and my blood pumps, my heart racing just at the sound of her voice.
“Hey, baby,” I say to her, wishing like hell I could feel her body underneath mine.
“I miss you,” she says, and the feeling is mutual, although I don't say it.
“Things are happening, baby. I need you to be extra vigilant, okay?” I say not wanting to give anything away, knowing she talks to her brother often.
“Marco...” she starts, a warning in her tone.
“It’s okay, baby, I know what I am doing, it will be okay,” I reiterate. I have done lots of business deals, been in hard situations, helped both Shaun and Stephen with their fight against the criminal world for their loved ones, but nothing compares to working with the mob. But I am confident in my plan. It will work.
“Marco, what are you doing?” she asks me, caution in her tone again. I don’t want to lie to her.
“Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer yet, baby, Just remember, I love you and I will be with you soon okay. I fucking miss you so much, and I can’t wait to have you in my arms. That day is coming real soon, all right.”
“Marco…” she starts.
“Yeah, baby?” I question, not sure what she needs from me but willing to give her everything.
“I love you,” she whispers and my heart stops, blood rushes around my body, and I ache for her.
“I love you, my Queen,” I say because she is my fucking queen. My queen of hearts.
“Speak soon, baby.” I say because I need to wrap up this call before I give her every part of me and now is not the time.
“Okay, speak soon,” she says, and I end the call. My heart is not able to handle it a minute longer.
Walking back to the guys, Shaun gives me a look and a raised eyebrow.
“She is fine, she’s good. Laying low,” I say in reply.
He nods. “She is an amazing woman, Marco, very strong, resilient and is a good match for you.” I smile at my brother. We are close, Shaun and I, and I am glad to have his full support in this.
Once I sit back down, the four of us talk through our plan for the remainder of the flight, and once we land in New York we are all business. Two blacked out Escalades pick us up from the airport and drive us straight to Nitro where we finalize details and get organized. We have additional security personnel here with us and brief everyone for 30 minutes before we leave so we can kickstart what we came here for.
The four of us boys stand together, united. Stephen has filled shot glasses with whiskey and we look at each other.
“One for all, and all for one,” Shaun says before we clink our glasses and all take a shot before our night begins.
25
Marco
Jake and I are in one car, Shaun and Stephen follow us in another, as we pull up in front of the nightclub owned by Sebastian Romano in Manhattan at exactly 11:00pm.
As expected, there is a line a block long to get into the place, but the four of us walk straight up to the doormen, who take one look at us and shuffles us through like they were expecting us. Stephen looks at me and says, “He knows we are here.” I nod in reply because I knew we wouldn't be a surprise. You can’t have a private jet flying into New York without the mob knowing who is coming—especially people of interest like us.
We are led into the club, music is pumping, girls and guys are grinding together on the dance floor, and the four of us have our eyes peeled taking everything in. Not dissimilar to Stephen’s clubs, the decor is luxurious, no expense has been spared. There are plenty of dark corners, a large dance floor, and an elevated stage where a DJ is currently playing the latest music. A glass and mirrored bar is in a circle to one side of the room, with booths and tables running alongside one wall. The place is busy, and I can now see why there is such a long line to get in. It is an amazing space.
I see Stephen shaking hands and slapping a few shoulders of staff and people who obviously know who he is from his own club business here in New York, which is not too far away on the Upper East side.
“Follow me,” a young woman says as she sashays in front of us, leading the four of us to a door on the side of the main club entrance. She is dressed in tiny shorts, a tight fitting shirt, and has long dark hair flowing down her back. She is beautiful, but not as eye-catching as my Frankie.
We follow her through the door and into an elevator that takes us three floors up. When the doors open she steps out first, holding her hand on the elevator doors to prevent them from closing on us. The four of us boys step out and then she steps back into the elevator, the doors close, and she leaves us standing in the lobby.
