“Don Alessandro, it’s good to see you’re in good health, sir.”
Alessandro sighed and grumbled, “When are you going to start calling me Papa? You’ve been my son since you were thirteen.”
Maria tapped Alessandro on his shoulder. “Stop complaining. Don’t you know your son calls you that because he greatly respects you?”
“I get that, but he could say it just once,” Alessandro pouted.
“Stop acting like a child,” Maria said.
Maria was correct on one level. He had a tremendous amount of respect for Alessandro, but he’d never thought the man would care if he called him father or not. Maybe he had been wrong this entire time. Othello watched the two bicker lovingly, as they had since he met them. Alessandro was a fierce man, never to be trifled with, but the one person who could make him do anything they wanted was Maria, who had his heart completely.
It was sometime later that Maria had fallen asleep, giving Alessandro and Othello time to talk. “Are we sure the Falcons weren’t the ones to set up the ambush? They take us out and get all the properties.”
“Everyone is suspicious right now, but I hate to say it. Julian isn’t that smart,” Alessandro said. “The person who planned it was much smarter.”
Othello sighed. “Since we agree that Falcon didn’t set us up, I think it’s important we continue with the negotiations.”
“They’ll want more than what we offered. If we don't play nice, we already suspect they are working with the Ricci and Greco families, and we don’t want to cross Falcon bringing the fire down on us. That’s something we're not ready to take them on yet.”
“I know. Give them Liberty Heights and Greenfield. There’s enough real estate for them to make a killing if they know what they're doing; we already have the financial district and most of the high-scale real estate. We’ll take back the medical and art district. This way, we still have Bradford Healthcare in our pockets. Not to mention, the change of hands won't disrupt the art auction at the year's end. I wasn't keen on us giving up those properties, but I get you wanted them to see your good nature."
Alessandro asked, “What do you want to do with the slush fund we received from the auction?”
"The best way to look like a good businessman is to invest it. In the years we've started doing more business with the tech boys, we've been able to hide our business better."
"Damn." Alessandro tsked. "I knew Falcon wasn't as smart as his father, or else he would have seen all that he tried to give him."
"You should have known he didn't have what it took to be a part of this business when he turned down access to Rizzo's ports. We'll be able to control what comes in and out. His father would have seen an opportunity and taken it."
Unlike most families, the Romanos no longer dealt with drugs and human trafficking. They concentrated on buying and selling arms in other countries, prime real estate, and gambling, which brought in more money than they could spend in an hour. In the beginning, Iago was against the idea of them changingtheir business dealings but later saw how prosperous they were. Falcon, on the other hand, had no head for business or this world.
"Falcon wants to stay on petty shit that Iago and I used to do when we were kids. They can't play with the big boys. We planned on taking them out in the future anyway, but I say leave it to the cops. They'll fuck up their own bag by the end of the year. Then we can swoop in and take the bag that we gave them.”
Alessandro sat silent for a few minutes before he spoke again. “I’ll have the new agreement drawn up. Once everything is settled, we’ll get started on the renovations of the old factories. Are you sure you want to turn them into condos?”
“Yeah.” The construction companies were the perfect cover, as most of their illegal activities ran through them, but Othello felt they needed to expand and have a few legal businesses. Lately, the cops had been sniffing around their construction sites a bit too much—more than once, they’d had to deal with an undercover cop—Othello’s plan was for their clan to appear completely legit on the surface, drawing smoke away from them. Alessandro wasn’t a careless man by any means, but he was growing sloppy, drawing eyes on them, ones they didn’t need.
“I’ll follow your lead on this, Othello. It’s why I made you my successor.”
"Our other goal right now is finding out who set us up. Are you sure we looked into everyone?"
"Do you doubt me?" Alessandro quirked a brow.
"Of course not. I want to make sure we covered all grounds," he said as another thought came to him. "What about the Ricciand Greco families? You know how much they hate me, not to mention Cassio; their underboss despises me."
"Even if they are the ones that put out the hit, we can't touch them. We can only speculate. I doubt they’re ready to take out Falcon and his lot. But I also can't deny they would have a reason to want to take you or me out of the game. They find me disloyal for naming you as my heir."
Othello had never asked, but he’d always wondered why Alessandro hadn’t chosen Iago when the two men were more alike than anything. As a matter of fact, he was certain Iago would have been the next in line. Othello had grown more laid-back the older he got, and he was enjoying his early thirties. Iago remained brash and unyielding but followed Alessandro’s orders to the letter, while Othello did what felt right. When they were adopted, Iago didn’t hyphenate his last name and immediately took the Romano name.
“Thank you for trusting me, Papa.” Othello smiled. He saw a brightness engulf Alessandro’s face for the first time, but he coughed, masking it quickly, and then changed the subject.
They talked more about dealing with the fallout of the ambush before he sent Alessandro and Maria home. Since he wasn’t sleepy and thanked all the gods for his high pain threshold, he wasn’t feeling pain that he couldn’t handle. He grabbed his cellphone and responded to several emails. He would have continued if he hadn’t felt sleepy and the nurse had come in to check on him. During the night, he was awakened by voices, but he remained still, kept his eyes closed, and listened to make sure he wasn’t in danger. He hated feeling helpless. He guessed it might be the hospital staff since they were moving around his bed, fiddling with the covers as they talked.
“Did you hear Doctor Ellington turned down our Doctor Adonis when he asked him out on a date?” one person said.
“No way,” a second voice interjected. “Who turns down Adonis? We call him that for a reason. Who does Doctor Ellington think he is? Did he give a reason?”
“Who knows, maybe he’s seeing someone, or his parents already picked out his lover for him. You know he does nothing without their approval.”
