My father leaned forward. “Walk me through the plan.”
I reached into my vintage two-thousand-ten Fendi Peekaboo purse, and slid three folders across the table.
“Montenegro, Croatia, Bulgaria. We use Matteo’s ports in Ensenada and Veracruz to push product out, labelled under the shell companies we set up last year – agricultural imports, textile exports. Everything clean. Everything buried.”
“And when the Russians push back?” Gìo asked.
I smiled. “We make it look like an internal power struggle. They bleed from the inside. We never touch them directly.”
Tony gave a low whistle. “Damn. Chess.”
“Language,” My father warned without looking at him. Tony rolled his eyes, but shut up. My father leaned back in his chair. His eyes moved between me and Gìo. “I want both of you working together on this.” His focus returned to Tony. “And you will be shadowing them.”
Tony tsked, looking up from his phone. “You can’t be serious, pop. I’m busy with the upcoming fights in Vegas. I ain’t got time for this–”
“I’m not asking, Antonio.” Dad’s words left no room for argument. He then gave me a knowing look. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I nodded. “You won’t.”Even if it killed me.
He smiled and clapped his hands, announcing the conclusion of the meeting. We all stood and made our way together to the elevator.
Dad threw his arms around Gìovanni and me, giving us squeeze on the shoulder before advancing to catch up with Antonio. Once close enough, he took a light hook to his ribs. Tony reacted on instinct, bringing his hands up and doing a couple of light head movements and escapes while Dad pretended to try to get in a couple hits. Dad laughed, throwing his arm around Tony and shaking him slightly as he side-hugged him.
“Ready to show off those moves in Vegas and win those fights?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good son.”
I exchanged an amused look with my older brother.
Ever since he’d been born, Tony became everybody’s favorite. He was twenty and still the baby of the family. Gìo and I couldn’t complain either – he was our favorite too. Funny. Easygoing. Crazy, but more loyal that anyone we’d ever come across.
Once we stepped out into the underground parking garage, Dad fell back to talk to me again. He handed me the contract for the legal expansion with a raised brow. “I trust you to deliver and get Diablo to sign this?”
“Will be on your desk in the morning.”
He smiled, cupping the back of my head. “Good daughter.”
Smiling too, we parted ways, each of us heading to our respectable vehicles.
“Gìovanni,” Dad clicked his fingers before getting in his town car, as if he’d just remembered. “How’s the take-over coming along? Did you get the others on board?”
Gìo simply unbuttoned his suit jacket as he opened the door to his Aston Martin and stepped inside. “I got a feeling Boston, Philly and Chicago will fall in line after I have the sit-down with them.”
The following Sunday, while the whole DeMone Family had lunch at the family home in Long Island, all three Bosses were shot execution style.
Stepping out of the Hammer Truck and onto seventy-sixth street, the driver closed the car’s door behind me. My Dolce heels clicked against the pavement before softening into the plush of the red entrance carpet.
Doors opened for me.
“Good evening, Miss DeMone.”
Doormen and lobby managers tipped their heads when I walked past.
“Miss DeMone…”
Elevators were held for me.
