“She’s getting ready to go to Europe. We’ll just make this meeting short.”
“Whatever,” Fabio shot back, and muttered something in Italian. I assume curse words. His footsteps grew louder behind me, which made me pick up my pace. The tension rolling off him was palpable, despite the breezy blowing in from the ocean.
I couldn’t imagine what was going on with the brothers. But it sounded like Remo was having some issues with his wife and he needed to get his daughters from an activity.
This was very weird. Since when did Mafia men have time to deal with their kids?
Maybe my impression of mobsters was dated.
Nah, I doubted it. I knew the Ferraris were old world Italians. Pietro believed in the old patriarchal ways and had a distinct order he lived by. Women were the nurturers and caretakers of the kids. Men dominated and controlled the home. So, what the fuck was going on with Remo’s wife?
Not my worry.
I went over to where Jefe and the others were seated at large banquet table and took the vacant seat. I was the next highest-ranking officer, which naturally put me next to the president.
“My staff has prepared lunch.” Fabio snapped his fingers. “I hope you like seafood and pasta.”
“Sure,” Jefe replied. But I knew better. The only seafood he liked was the kind that didn’t taste fishy. The fish sticks in the blue box were all he ate, with a lot of lemon squeezed on it and ketchup. Yeah, it was disgusting. I hoped there was other stuff he could eat.
Trays of clams and other seafood I couldn’t make out were placed on the table. A couple of bowls of pasta with shrimp were set out next. It wasn’t looking good for Jefe, then more food was put out…
Baskets of bread and butter.
Bottles of wine.
Wood boards with olives and cheese.
Food kept coming until every inch of the center of the large table was filled, and I was relieved Jefe would be able to eat something.
But again, I knew better. My MC brothers and I weren’t fancy and refined like Fabio and Remo.
We had big appetites, and ate red meat multiple times a day, preferably in tacos and burritos. Corn tortilla chips and salsa were the only vegetables we approved of.
What was on the table made me think we’d been transported to a foreign country, and I didn’t speak the language.
After we left the meeting, we’d all be starving, especially Corcoran who appeared to be in shock. No question our first stop would be atIn and Outfor double cheeseburgers, animal-style fries, and milk shakes, before we made the ride home.
“Dig in.” Fabio lifted a wine glass.
“And let’s get down to business.” Remo sat on the opposite side of the table from Fabio. He served himself a variety of foods and started eating.
Jefe nodded to me to get on with it.
“As I mentioned, Kozlov Bratva is in our territory. But we don’t know why. We just assumed you might.” My throat was dry, probably from the salt air.
Or maybe it was nerves.
Hearing myself, it sounded silly to come all this way when we could’ve just discussed Alek over the phone, but that wasn’t how the Ferraris did business.
“No need to assume anything. I always know what’s going on in my district,” Remo said with a full mouth. The arrogant asshole left us hanging. He wanted us to ask questions rather than him telling us what he apparently knows.
Fabio drank his wine and stared at his brother. Something was definitely off between them. In the past, they were friendlywith each other, like business partners. I wasn’t getting any friendly vibes off either of them.
Jefe cleared his throat, a sound I knew well and my cue to ask questions.
“Why is Alek Kozlov here? Is he trying to move into our territory? Steal business from us?” The questions that had been on repeat in my head gushed out of my mouth like a broken hydrant.
Remo raised his hand. “One question at a time.”
