Vinny grunted his compliance. His chair legs scratched the hardwood as he shoved his chair back. Even if this was another dead end, I had nothing to lose in trying.
“You still need to schmooze Judge Moore,” he tossed at me over his shoulder. “And Don Costello. Also, Jack Bowman called about his quarterly donation…wants to renegotiate the rate.”
Then he shut the door on this way out. The phone was already in my hand before the soft thunks of his footfalls were lost to the hallway.
The judge, the police chief, and their bribes could wait. Don Costello, head of the Chicago Burnelli Famiglia, on the other hand…he’d been trying to encroach on my territory since I took over, always working on needling me into negotiations. With the number of gift-wrapped packages he received of his men’s extremities, you’d think he’d give up. Luca Costello was nothing if not stubborn, and I intended to use that to my advantage. I dialed his number.
“My niece would be a prize for any don worth half his salt.” Costello again redirected the conversation.
I massaged the bridge of my nose in exasperation. “That’s not why I called.”
“You’re a young man, Renzo, not even in his prime yet. I remember when I was your age. Twenty-eight and not a care to give. Which is why you need a wife.”
I swirled my Negroni, the ice clinking against the glass, and downed half of its bitterness in one go.
“Even if I were, I already have one contract too many to my name.” Another one of my problems to deal with, initiated and signed behind my back by mybelovedfather. The dead bastard still haunted me at every corner.
“Puah. That little thing. Wave it away. My family has much more to offer you than the Giambrones.”
“Honor and principles, Luca. We don’t back down on deals.”
As if I’d align myself with his family instead, especially considering Costello married off his heir and cousin to the family of the French prick, Adrien De Villier, who once broke my sister’s heart.
“I wonder which one it was, honor or principles, that put the bullet in your father.”
I didn’t rise to the bait. “Both.”
“I would hate to see how you treat an outsider.”
“You should know. Haven’t you been receiving my packages?”
“Yes, gruesome. Though my cousin doesn’t think much of them as wedding gifts.”
I scoffed. “I’d sooner cut my own arm off than gift anything to a De Villier spawn. Marrying your cousin into that family was a mistake. Mark my words.”
“Bah. It was good business. You would do the same.”
“That’s the point. I wouldn’t.”
Costello chuckled lightly from the other side of the line, not the least perturbed. “Then it’s for the best I’m not you. Whatever it takes to thrive.”
I finished off the last of my Negroni. “Enough of thismerda.” Shit. “Let’s talk business. I’ve heard you want shipping access through my ports.”
Costello clucked his tongue. “You’re well informed.”
I tapped my fingers against my desk, having a last-minute debate with myself over whether or not I was really going to throw myself off this cliff.
“Iannelli?”
I twisted my glass around, watching the light refract across my desk, then clapped my hand over its lip, decision made. “You give me what I want, and I’ll more than just consider it.”
“You have my attention.”
“My sister is missing.”
“I heard.”
“I’m inclined to believe there’s been a lack of motivation among my peers in helping to locate her.”
