Forced marriages are rare these days because Don Mazzone changed a lot of the traditions when he reestablished The Commission fourteen years ago. It’s still proposed for political strengthening at higher levels, but most arranged marriages are consensual. Not like how it was for my mom when she was forced to marry our widowed dad.
“I haven’t found anyone I want to marry,” he admits, walking into the empty staff cafeteria. “I’m not even sure marriage is for me.” He shrugs as we fix our coffees side by side. “And I don’t necessarily need an heir.”
“Because Zumo can take over, and he’ll most likely have kids,” I supply. Zumo Maltese is one of our good friends, and he likes being in a committed relationship. He and Cristian—another good friend and the don of the DiPietrofamigliain New York—have that in common while the rest of us are happy to remain unattached.
“Exactly.” He puts the lid on his takeout coffee before rubbing at his eyes. “It’s entirely too early to be discussing this shit.”
I snort out a laugh as I grab my coffee and we walk off. “Trust me, I’m more than happy to leave the subject of marriage behind. We’ve got way more pressing issues.”
“Do you really think O’Hara’s involved?” Fiero asks as we head toward the city for the early-morning Commission meeting in Manhattan.
“I didn’t before, but now I don’t know what to think,” I truthfully reply. “I’ve always found him honorable, and it didn’t seem like he was lying when we put him on the spot, but who’s to say he isn’t working an angle with his brother? Maybe they’ve decided they want it all now.”
“They hate one another,” Fiero reminds me as I swing around the corner onto a main road.
“Fucking hell!” Fiero stares out the window, tipping his head up and chuckling. “They used to say Massimo and I were the poster boys for themafiosoin the city, but we never had our faces splashed all over Times Square.”
I glance out the window at the massive billboard, grinning at the image of Caleb and me looking like two smug pricks in expensive clothing from the winter catalog. “You should be used to it by now. It’s not the first time our faces have appeared on advertising campaigns.”
I graduated NYU early with an honors business degree and went straight into working for the Accardi Company. Caleb shunned college to pursue other things, but he joined me in the family business at the same time. My twin channeled his energies on building our clothing brand into a leading-edge design house that is now most sought after among fashion-conscious men across the globe. Years ago, our father had attempted to expand the clothing division by acquiring Kennedy Apparel from Alex Kennedy, but Gino Accardi lacked vision, and he had no creative flare.
Caleb loves fashion almost as much as he loves the notoriety and fame that comes from being the face of our brand. We both like to look good, and Caleb has used that to grow our brand and triple the profits. Ironically, one of our biggest competitors is Keanu Kennedy’s brand, but it’s friendly rivalry. The market is big enough for both brands, and we have hired models through his modeling agency to prove there’s no bad blood.
“If Massimo and I had thought of the idea, we’d probably have started our own fashion line too. You have the pick of pussy in the city I’m guessing.”
“I don’t indulge much.” I prefer the short list of girls I call on when I need to fuck. They’ve all been carefully vetted and signed NDAs, and they submit to regular testing. I know what I’m getting, and the risk is low.
“Unlike your twin.” Fiero grins. “He must be a walking STD by now.”
“No more than you would have been back in the day.”
“Truth, and I’m a judgment-free zone.”
His grin expands as I take a right at the junction, driving in the direction of the impressive glass building in the near distance that is our destination.
“At least he’s not fucking Anais anymore, and that’s a win,” I say.
Well, not much. She’s in Vegas most of the time and the separation has been good for my twin. Caleb’s loyalty knows no bounds, and I couldn’t love him more for it. But she’s a toxic bitch and bad news. Anais feeds that cruel streak inside Caleb, and I don’t like who he is when he’s with her. I want her as far away from him as possible. Caleb has delivered the message and continuing to fuck with Cruz is playing with fire.
That narcissistic asshole is unpredictable and power-hungry, and he’s set his sights on Caleb. My brother can hold his own, but he needs additional shit like a hole in the head. I’d ratherCaleb completely cut ties with Cruz’s wife so we can draw a line under the whole sorry affair.
“That was not a good scenario.” Fiero drums his fingers on his knee as I turn into the underground parking lot of Commission Central.
Caltimore Holdings own the building, but Don Mazzone leases it at cost to The Commission. Everyfamigliain the US pays a monthly stipend to The Commission, which covers the costs of running a governing body and pays for the variety of support services provided to members.
“Cruz is a vindictive prick,” Fiero adds as I drive into my designated parking space and kill the engine. “He won’t forget what Caleb’s done.” His blue eyes stab mine. “Caleb needs to always watch his back. Don’t let him get complacent. I know your brother is lethal, and if he went one-on-one with Cruz, he’d nail that shithead to the wall. But Cruz also knows that, which is why he won’t come for him head on.”
“Caleb can handle Cruz.”
“In theory.” Fiero turns in his seat to face me. “Caleb is prone to bouts of recklessness, and he displays a worrying lack of regard for his safety at times. That’s when Cruz will strike. He’ll hit him when he least expects it. When he’s vulnerable.”
“Only if we let it come to that.” The unspoken sentiment behind those words goes unsaid. To articulate it is tantamount to treason.
“My allegiance is with you and your brother. I hate that self-righteous bastard, but I’d hate to see either of you lose your life over him. Make smart choices, Joshua, and ensure your twin does too.”
I’m still mulling over Fiero’s words as I stand in front of the mirror in the men’s locker room after my shower. We all keep clothing and supplies here because we’re often called in on short notice. Massimo runs The Commission professionally as his predecessor, Don Mazzone, did. No one is permitted to show up unless they are well groomed and dressed the part.
We go to extremes to protect the criminal elements of our businesses and our darker reputations. In public, we always present as successful entrepreneurs. Mazzone’s IT companies control the stuff that goes out on the web, and there are dedicated teams who work twenty-four-seven to remove any incriminating evidence.
