“You think you can legitimize narcotics?” Disbelief threads through Ben’s tone.
“Not in the way you and I have legitimized other parts of our businesses, but I believe there is a smarter way to manage this that affords us more protection.” I return my attention to the other men around the table, who are still not fully sold on the idea. “This is a long-term plan. This isn’t something that can be achieved overnight. We start by regaining control in New York, building a new team and new processes, and once that’s nailed down, we talk about reaching out to New Jersey and Boston, Chicago, and other territories. We build a model that works and sell that until all the supply is under our control.”
I pause to take another drink of water before continuing. “So, to answer your question, Don Accardi, that’s why I want this.”
“You have given us much to consider,” Ben says, “and there is a lot worthy of merit, but we have one key concern.”
“Trust,” I supply.
He nods. “I know you have proven yourself. I know what is said about you amongst the families. You are hardworking, and you deliver on your promises. But you are an outsider.”
“And a woman,” Don Maltese adds.
I deliberately look down at my chest before lifting my chin and pinning him with a flirtatious grin. “Last time I checked.”
“Women are weak,” he retorts, fixing me with a smug grin. “Respected only for what’s between their legs, not what’s between their ears.”
“A misogynist. What a surprise,” I deadpan, rimming the edge of my glass with the tip of my finger.
“Your sexist, ageist remarks are becoming tiresome, Roberto. Show Donna Conti the respect she deserves,” Ben says to Don Maltese, earning my admiration. There are a lot of things I admire and respect about Bennett Mazzone.
I won’t enjoy killing him.
“I understand trust and loyalty are earned,” I say, keeping the conversation on track. “I fully understand what I’m asking is a big risk for you to take, so I have a potential solution I think you will be happy with.” I deliberately let my eyes wander to Gabriele Greco.
Ben sits up straighter, awareness ghosting over his face.
I stare directly at the president. “I believe you are looking for a bride for Massimo Greco. I will marry him and handle this situation for The Commission”—I pin my gaze on my startled enemy across the table—"as a Greco.”
ChapterFour
Massimo
“No.” Leaning back in my chair, I face off with my brother, daring him to keep pushing me.
“No?!” Gabriele strains forward in his seat, propping his elbows on the desk.
It’s still weird to see him sitting in father’s seat, at the desk that’s a family heirloom, in an office that holds nothing but bad memories for me.
Steam billows from his ears, and his nostrils twitch as he glares at me. “You dare to say no to me after everything I’ve done for you?” he roars in a heightened tone that is most unlike him.
“I told you I will come into the business earlier than planned and work with you on a transfer of power, but that doesn’t include you choosing a bride for me. If I ever marry, it will be a woman I select.”
He slams his fist down on the desk, rattling the bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle perched in front of him.
“Papa was too soft on you,” he says, shaking his head as he refills his glass with more bourbon. I declined because I don’t plan to stick around after I check in on Mom, and unlike my weak, spoiled, unobservant brother, I don’t have a personal driver.
“Do not mistake neglect for tenderness.” I grip the sides of my chair, my knuckles blanching white. “Maximo Greco didn’t have a single soft bone in his body. The beatings I endured in this very office are testament to that. Don’t pretend like you don’t remember.”
Fuck, I would kill for a drink, but my desire to return to my home trumps that need.
“You are lucky he ignored you as much as he did.” Gabriele stares off into space, looking lost in memories. Tense silence bleeds into the air. My brother turns his head, eyeballing me. “Neither of us is cut out for this life.”
I wouldn’t agree in my case, but I don’t refute him because I’m not ready to reveal my truths yet. “You are lucky Don Mazzone has been in charge during your reign. He’s smart, and he has achieved peace and prosperity. It could be a lot worse. If Papa or Carlo or Primo were in your shoes, they would have butted heads with Bennett a long time ago.”
“They would never have accepted him as the president of The Commission in the long-term,” Gabriele agrees. “Especially Papa and Primo after the brutal way the Mazzones killed Carlo.”
“Let’s get real, brother,” I say, sitting more upright. “Carlo had that coming to him. If you ask me, they did the world a favor.”
