“Well, good. I was going to ask how you were doing,” he says with a snicker.
“Yeah, doubt it,” I say flatly. “I talked with John. He said the Twelfth Street deal is almost done, but someone put in a last-minute bid.”
“We have to close the deal,” he says in a rush.
“I know.”
“Do we know who put in the bid?”
“No, and I don’t think John does either. He didn’t offer it willingly.”
“Great, that makes it easy,” Gino says. I can practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone. “We need to figure it out. Have you gotten those signed docs from the city yet?”
“Yes, I am reviewing them right now,” I say, glancing at my computer, looking over the permit forms from the city to build a new structure on our property on Eighth Street. We’ve been slowly renovating properties Antonio left neglected, and we’re also buying new ones to strengthen our territory to eventually use for our business.
“Good. Let me know when we’re good to go so I can call in the crews to start working,” he says.
“Will do. Talk to you later, man.”
“See ya,” Gino says.
I hang up the phone and continue reviewing the permits.
My mind drifts between this tension building with rival families and the added pressure of having Vanessa around. Her presence only fuels the fire. If those families find out about her, it could spark even more conflict—some of them trying to broker a deal to marry her off. Gino would never agree, but that wouldn’t stop the anger. Parts of the city could quickly turn into hotspots for retaliation.
As the attorney for the Esposito family, I’m involved in any contract or deal that’s made. If there were ever a contract for Vanessa, I would be involved.
Since Antonio died and Gino took over, I’m more involved in every step of brokering deals and growing the empire. Since taking control, Gino is a force. He expanded the businessbeyond clubs and restaurants into construction and office spaces. He’s made so much money but doesn’t act like it. He keeps it hidden so it’s not out in the open.
Almost everything feels too perfect, and I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is coming. You could call me a pessimist. The last time things ran this smoothly was right before Gino’s mother was killed.
Building an empire is literal blood, sweat, and tears—and a fuck ton of coffee. Once I start working, I slip into autopilot. I barely get up, except to grab more coffee or go to the bathroom. I don’t realize nearly three hours has passed, buried in notes and documents, until Vanessa clears her throat.
“You need to drink more than just coffee. Here.” She hands me a glass of ice water. “And you need to eat something. When was the last time you ate?”
She’s changed into jeans and a gray V-neck T-shirt.
I hesitate, suddenly feeling like a kid about to be disciplined by a parent. “Last night at dinner.”
“I am making myself grilled cheese. Would you like one?” she asks in what I can only assume is her mom tone.
“Sure. Thanks.” She walks away toward the kitchen, and I turn slightly to watch her go. She has an amazing body, but she wears clothes a little too big for her—almost like she’s afraid to show off her figure.
“Ow, shit,” she hisses.
“Are you okay?” I stand up quickly and walk over to her.
“I just burned my finger on the pan—nothing major.” She runs her finger under cold water.
“Do you have a first-aid kit?” I ask.
“It’s in the bathroom, under the sink.” I walk into the bathroom and grab it.
“Sit down,” I tell her, pulling out a chair at the small dining table.
“I’m the nurse, you know. I can do this,” she mentions as I start rifling through the kit, looking for burn cream.
“If I get hurt, you can patch me up,” I reply. “But since you’re the one with the burn, I’ll be doing the fixing up.”
