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“I’ve offended you, Flora?” Anthony laughed.
I snapped my head to the side to see Elle glaring at him with those fiery brown eyes. No. No. Keep your mouth shut, Elle!
“You have not offended me at all, Don Galiz,” she gave him a tight smile that I knew far too well.
“It doesn’t seem that way. By the way you are trying to murder me with your eyes, sweetheart. You have fire. I can see why you have Alessio’s attention. I bet you are great fun to fuck.”
"Not that you'll ever find out," Elle muttered under her breath as she folded her arms over her chest.
I clenched my jaw and leaned forward on the table, trying to keep my rage controlled. Breathe. Don’t let him see that you care about her. “Oh, she is. But she submits to me.”
He roared with laughter, slamming his hand on the table. “They always do. Breaking their spirit is the most fun. My wife was like that. I’d fuck a whore just to rile her up because the sex would be so much better.”
“You’re married?” Elle asked in shock, her eyes darting between Veronica and Galiz.
“Was. My wife was murdered two years ago by a rival family,” he smirked, showing no emotion.
“You seem really cut up about it,” Elle replied sarcastically and I nudged her leg with mine under the table. Galiz’s eyes hardened on her face and I knew it was time to get her out of here.
“It’s time to talk business, Galiz. How about the women go down to the bar so we can get the brandy out?” I smiled, tapping my fingers on the table.
He nodded at Veronica to leave and she obediently stood up. I did the same to Elle and she held my gaze, before she placed her napkin on the table and stood up to follow Veronica downstairs to the public bar. I glanced over my shoulder at Stefano, who immediately followed her out.
Galiz dropped his smile and pulled out cigars from his suit jacket. He offered me one, which I took, and we stayed in silence as one of his men stepped forward and lit us up. He tilted his head to the side and examined me closely as I puffed on the cigar. I hated smoking, but in mafia politics, you never refuse a generous offer unless you want a war.
“So, you want to be King of Italy? Ambitious man,” he finally spoke.
“That’s the plan.”
“But you need my help to do it,” he smirked.
“Your help would be appreciated, but it is not necessary,” I spoke confidently, holding his eye-contact without a hint of vulnerability. The way I had been raised to do. “I will become King of Italy with or without your help. It will just be easier, with it.”
He clicked his tongue at me and stubbed out his cigar. “Are you trying to insult me, boy?”
“Of course not. I am merely being transparent. I’ve done my research, Galiz. You need us more than we need you.”
His eyes narrowed as he sipped from his crystal glass. Galiz was struggling to maintain his hold on all his businesses. He needed investors. Silent investors that would tie him over and keep the pressure off. And having the ruthless reputation of Galiz as an ally would cause more families in the North to want our protection.
“So, let’s see the offer,” I stubbed my own cigar out, having only taken two drags. He nodded to one of his men who stepped forward and placed a black briefcase on the table. With a click, it opened and I reached in to pull out the contracts.
I read through them all carefully. Scanning every clause. Every fine print. He wanted our investment into three of his businesses. A chain of clubs he owned in Chicago. A one-off payment to facilitate his dealers. And the final; 15% ownership in his human trafficking scheme. This is what I had feared. He sold women like slaves. Turned them into drug addicts and prostitutes so they would do anything for their next fix. Many of them were underage and foreign. It was disgusting.
I lifted my gaze from the paper to his face. “My father made it very clear, years ago, that we had no interest in human trafficking or exploitation.”
“He did,” Galiz nodded. “But I am speaking to you now. The new Don of the South. You understand the importance of building strong friendships. You said so yourself.”
“Like my father, there are some things I will not support. Human trafficking is one of them.” I threw the contracts into the briefcase again and slammed it shut to show him I was serious. There was nothing he could say to sway me on this.
“That is a shame,” he huffed, running his large hands over the tablecloth. “But I am willing to negotiate a deal if you are.”
“The other two investments in exchange for your support, if needed, in the North,” I stated and he smiled.
“The deal was for three investments,” he argued.
“Then name your third,” I leaned my arm back over the empty chair Elle had been sitting in as his dark eyes held mine. I could see his brain working fast, thinking carefully and an unsettling feeling started to brew in my gut.
“Okay, Barbieri. Two investments. And the girl.”
