Joe Simonetto, who we all call Simmy, lifts a hand. I brace myself, because I know what's coming. These guys are mostly shit-kickers, not privy to the Family's higher level matters, but rumors have a way of slipping through the cracks.
I should know. I used to be one of these guys. Will be again, soon as Pedretti's back onsite today.
"I hear the Boss is thinking of hosting some kind of get-together," Simmy says. "Having the Bernardis here, both lots of 'em, at a party—that true?"
"Don Castellani has a lot on his mind. A lot more than you, Simmy, thank fuck." He gives a wry grin, and the other guards chuckle. "Our job is to maintain security. Don't worry about what the higher-ups are planning. You'll know when you need to. But for the record, it's not a party. Aparley. An attempt to make peace."
"Between the Bernardi brothers?" Mario scoffs. "Good luck with that."
A few of the others laugh. I don't.
There are two Bernardi factions right now, led by Gino and AJ Bernardi, since Leo joined up with us. And the Bernardis have been making a lot of trouble for business in LA. Their civil war is getting hotter and hotter, and it's disruptingeverything.
Plus, ever since Pedretti got poached by the damn Espositos, and Julian Castellani decided to take it personally, it's been harder and harder for Sandro and Leo to keep him in line. In particular, harder to keep him from taking out AJ Bernardi in retaliation for AJ's torture of both Julian and Leo.
Lot of arguments about it while Pedretti's been away. At first I didn't get why Sandro wouldn't just give the nod. Eliminate AJ, let Gino take over the rest of those Bernardi fucks, and let us Castellanis get on with our lives. Let Julian enjoy his vengeance—Leo, too—and that'd calm troubled waters between the Castellani brothers, too.
Easy, right?
But that's the thing about being in the room with the top guys. You learn to think bigger. More strategic. Sandro has been keeping that choke chain tight on Julian because—he finally pointed out, fed up with Julian's heckling—Gino doesn't havethe backing that AJ does right now, and taking out AJ would just create a power vacuum, and who knows wherethatwould lead. With PacSyn kicking up at the same time, making more mess won't help anything.
Now, I don't even know how Sandro got AJ to consider a parley, and especially not here at Redwood, but if he can find the right mediator—that's another word I've heard a lot recently—then AJ and his faction agreed to sit down with Gino andhisfaction, and talk things out.
"What the Boss has planned is none of our business," I repeat now. "All that shit is above our pay grade. We keep this place locked down, no matter who steps foot inside. We have the most important job of all. Without security, there's no peace. There's no business. There's no money. Am I right?"
My reminder of their purpose in life brings a murmur of assent, but I can't blame them for being uneasy about the idea of a bunch of Bernardis coming to Redwood.
God knows I am.
"No other issues?" I ask. Better to move on quickly.
"That damn butler was busting my ass last night," Mario grumbles. "Ordering me around, demanding I move all his tables and chairs ten different ways. Thinks he runs the damn place."
"Because he does," I say tightly. "Darian Thornfield-Hayes is head of household operations, which means he outranksyoursorry ass, Vecchi, and you need to show him the respect he deserves. You follow his orders like you follow mine. Understand?"
Mario looks properly chastised. "Yeah, I know, I know. I get it, Raf."
I conclude the briefing and set off on my rounds, irritation lingering. But the truth is, Darianhasbeen a challenge lately. Our duties as head of household and head of security mean we often clash—his eye for beauty and need for perfection collide hard with my safety-first priorities. Like last week, when we nearly came to blows over the dining room layout for dinner with a judge. Darian wanted two entry points for "ambience and flow." I wanted one entry and exit to better control the room.
We stood inches apart, not quite shouting, but nowhere near quiet, either. I swear I almost grabbed him and…
Well. Better not dwell on that. I enjoy making him blush from time to time, but I need to focus on my job, not get tangled up with the staff. Let alone someone likehim.
Someone so polished and proper, with a hidden fire that only seems to come out with me…
A temptation I can't afford, especially not while I was stepping up in Pedretti's absence. Although now that Pedretti is coming back, maybe?—
My phone buzzes. Speak of the devil. Jacopo has arrived back with Pedretti, but they're not alone. They have some Esposito Capo with them, someone the gate guard has dubbedBrick or something. Real fucking helpful, and Darian has the morning off, so I better get to the foyer to see what's going on.
It was nice bossing around the other guys while it lasted. But now Max Pedretti is home, and I'm kind of relieved, if it means I don't have to worry about this parley stuff. Plus I'd like to gethis more experienced take on a few things that I'm not sure I handled quite right in his absence.
I jog down the grand staircase, swinging around off the bottom step with a hand on the banister—and smack straight into Darian.
I have to grab him to make sure he doesn't fall over. "Shit, sorry. You okay?"
Impeccable as ever in a gorgeous three-piece suit—how the fuck many does he own?—he has a startled expression as he looks back at me.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. DeLuca," he says at last, pulling away to straighten his clothes.
