Chapter 2.
Dominic
“What the fuck were you doing in there?” I snap as Sisco and I head back to the bullshit party we’re at.
None of us want to be here, but duty means we have to. Frank Costello is turning 65, and for a mob boss that’s pretty fucking good. Anyone who is anyone is here, and with my brothers and me stepping into my father’s shoes, it means I’ve shaken hands with more powerful men of the mafia underworld than ever before. It’s the sort of place my father would have normally come to, but now that duty has befallen his sons.
Sisco shrugs, giving me a sly grin. “You know me, I’m like a missile for a pretty girl.”
“I just need you to not be an asshole tonight. We’ve got bigger things to be thinking about than women.” We enter the large room where the party is being held, and I scan it, looking for Joey. “For God’s sake, I told him to stay here.” I drag a hand through my hair, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.
“All work and no play makes Sisco . . .”
“Do not finish that sentence, brother,” I warn. “I am not in the mood. Did you take your meds before we came out?”
Sisco rolls his eyes and nods. He’s the eldest brother, but it’s me that’s taken over the bulk of our father’s work, since Sisco is all hands and no head when it comes to this business. He serves our family well when it comes to things getting bloody, but not all mafia business is blood. A lot of it takes more finesse than that, something that he just doesn’t have.
I’m feeling the pressure from every angle right now. The stress of keeping my family safe, together, and wealthy. Business is good, and since my father’s murder we’ve had crime lords from every district coming out to pay their respects and offering their services to us. Whether that be to make new deals or hide their crime from me, I’m not sure. But everyone is a suspect right now and I’m taking no chances.
I move away from the party with Sisco at my heels, and head towards the kitchen. Joey is like Sisco and he can’t seem to keep his head in the game right now. Chasing women is what he’s always done, and if he can find a gem in the rough then that’s where he’ll be.
Pushing open the large wooden door that leads to the kitchen, I search for Joey, thinking that he’s no doubt been chasing down one of the maids or the waitresses. The scent of rich foods invades my senses and my stomach rumbles in response. I haven’t eaten properly in weeks and it’s catching up to me. Instead of eating I’ve been working out, trying to get rid of the extra tension in my muscles. My body is chiseled and firm, muscles upon muscles. So much so that I’ve had to order new suits. Which doesn’t come cheap, since I have expensive taste.
I should cut back or go easy. Sisco is right—all work and no play isn’t good for anyone. But I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t even fuck without thinking of vengeance. Without hearing my little sister crying for my father. Without seeing the sneering faces of the men who had the fucking audacity to think they could get away with killing my father. Without seeing my father’s blood dried upon the steps of his home.
So, I train and I work.
I sweat and I shower.
I run and down a smoothie.
I do a hundred push-ups, forcing my muscles to breaking point, and then I take an ice bath.
I’m rebuilding myself from the inside out.
They say change is good for the soul, but my soul was almost nonexistent in the first place, so who knows who I’ll be at the end of this.
I don’t see Joey at first, and I’m about to walk out when I hear something. “Joey?”
“I’m here,” he grunts.
Sisco and I move around the kitchen, finding him on the ground, his hands in the center of another man’s chest. I recognize the man immediately. It’s Frank Costello and he’s unconscious. He looks pale as hell and I worry that he might already be dead.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “What did you do?”
“Can you get down here and help me?” he grunts, pressing his hands into Frank’s chest once more.
“This your doing?” Sisco laughs, not giving a shit about the drama unfolding in front of us, or the repercussions of Franks demise.
“Help me,” Joey says more urgently, his hands locked together as he presses on Frank’s chest. “I don’t know how long he’s been out. I came in to—”
“Find some feathers?” Sisco laughs, and I cringe at the ridiculous slang name they both use for maids. Despite the situation, Joey smirks.
“Yes, but then I found him here instead. Not the good time I was hoping for.”
I turn to Sisco. “Call an ambulance, now!” I shove him toward the door and head over to help Joey. “What happened, little brother?”
Joey is doing CPR on Frank, his features tight as he concentrates. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I told you, I found him on the ground like this.”
