Page 21 of A Capo’s Love: Featuring A Don’s Love

Cain’s wide eyes studied me closely, concern brightening his small face. “Are you okay, Pops?” He asked softly, his voice only just above a whisper, as if he was afraid to push it too hard. The tenderness in his question caught me off guard, tugging at something deep in my chest.

I forced a half-smile and shook my head, trying to brush off the heaviness.

“I’m good, lil man. Listen, why don’t you and Abel go get ready? Nanny Linda’s coming to take you both out for your fun day since you did great all week with home schooling.” I gave them a pointed look. “But remember, no cursing and make sure you both behave. We don’t want Nanny Linda reporting back that you two wild boys gave her a hard time.”

Abel rolled his eyes but grinned, while Cain tugged on my sleeve, not quite convinced. Then, out of nowhere, Cain blurted…

“Pops, maybe you should try to go find your Nova baby soon, so your heart won’t be broken anymore.” His innocence was piercing, and for a moment, I couldn’t find the words. My throat tightened again, but I mustered a weak chuckle, ruffling Cain’s hair as I tried to hold myself together.

The boys sauntered off, I released the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding back. If only they knew how high and low I searched for La’Nova. I came up empty and lost each month because she left no traces. I even questioned Serenity, had my men break into her home to go through her phone while she was sleep just to see if she had been secretly talking to La’Nova without letting me know something.

Something clawed at my conscious about her sudden disappearance. It felt like she took a piece of me with her… a piece of me that I tried to fulfill on a day-to-day basis but failed miserably at. It still felt like she was my concern, my responsibility, and most importantly, the cure to my pain and sadness. I needed her and had no way of finding her. She took the tracker off her camper and was gone in the wind.

CHAPTER 6

Luca

THE TABLE

I stood inside my office thirty minutes early, my hands rested behind my back as I watched the city stretch beneath me through the floor-to-ceiling glass that wrapped around the east side of Downtown L.A. fifteen floors up. My father invested in so many sky-scraping buildings including Bonetti Corp, which was his favorite piece of property.

People called it a redevelopment project, thinking it was a corporate tower that got abandoned. But my father saw opportunity in this building dressed up in neglect. I remember the first time he brought me inside, thinking it was just a building. He corrected me by telling me it was a system, and then months later he rebuilt it like one.

By the time the city reopened its eyes to it, the tower had a new name and reputation. On paper, it was a luxury mixed-used development with high-end offices on lower floors. We had tech startups renting out glass-walled spaces and private medical practices on the sixth floor. I just added a members-only financial firm on the first floor. The top floors were exclusive penthouses that only the elite could afford or be invited to live in.

It was all legal, profitable, and most importantly… Untouchable. What they didn’t see was how every floor had two versions of itself. The version with cameras, keycards, and smiling receptionists. And then there was the version behind it all that only my table and I knew about.

Which was the hidden hallways that didn’t exist on the blueprint of this building. Over the years we added elevators that only responded to certain fingerprints. Entire floors masked as “under renovation” that never seemed to open but were always in use. Deals on the backend didn’t happen in boardrooms; they happened in soundproof glass boxes like the one I was standing in now.

My father was a mastermind, who turned this building into a kingdom where one would never guess what it truly was. Money moved through this place effortlessly, hidden in plain sight. All investments looked legitimate because they were funded by things that weren’t. My father crawled through mud and cleaned the path for me and Roy to run things smoothly without all the stress and wars he went through to get it to this point.

I turned away from the window, my eyes flickered over toward the cherrywood double doors that were closed. A long black conference table sat in the middle of the room with seven chairs lined on each side, and one at the head. One of the changes I made was all meetings being held here instead of my father’s estate. I wouldn’t bring mafia business to my home where the twins resided nor bring it to where Lucille was. My plan since I got out of prison was to cut her out of all business concerning my new table. The mistake my father made was letting her have a voice and turning a blind eye to what he knew to be true with her all along… Disloyalty.

I inhaled the smell of leather before the doors opened. Roy stepped in first as always. I could depend on Roy to be punctual and on top of everything. Normally, he walked in carrying a half-crooked smile; today, he didn’t. His navy suit jacket was pressed sharp across his muscular frame, with a black button-down shirt slightly open.

Lucille got to him… I thought, inwardly shaking my head.

Roy hated wearing ties with his suits. Half the time he wore either a plain collared shirt or the suit jacket with a button-down shirt. When he was in a non-caring mood, Roy boldly wore the suit pants and jacket with no damn shirt. He nodded his head in my direction then sat in the last chair close to where I always sat. I watched him for a few seconds before speaking.

“You alright?” I signed to him briskly.

“I’m good, Luke.” He smirked, but I still wasn’t convinced.

“Who’s Luke?” I frowned, ignoring the sharp shards of pain shooting up my throat since I decided to use my voice.

Roy shook his head, and for a split second, I saw signs of weariness cross his face before it went void of any signs of emotions.

“We got some shit with us, Luke.” He pressed with the name further.

“Since when you call me Luke?” I decided to get to the point of his madness.

“Since I decided you not just a hot and cold ass nigga. You just lukewarm round this bitch, so that’s what I’m calling you,” he clarified.

I bit the side of my bottom lip and made a mental note to talk to Roy after the meeting. I could always detect when he had some urgent shit to get off his chest. Now was not the time for it, being that the rest of the table would be arriving soon. And the moment I took my seat, my men started to walk in one by one after every couple of seconds.

Matteo Cescari was the second to walk in. He was over all Bonetti money movement. Matteo was a beast cleaning dirty accounts and creating investment channels nobody questioned because they never saw the source. He was in his late thirties with salt and pepper hair from years of stress that he never spoke of to no one. Every dollar inside Bonetti territory passed through his hand’s, one way or another. He kept quiet and only spoke when needed.

He nodded once at me then sat two seats down from Roy. Next came Domino Walton. He was over our transport and routes. Product moved across state lines through his trucking companies that easily went under the radar. Like Roy, Domino rocked a dark gray suit with no tie. He took his chair across from Roy and leaned back in it immediately before signing his greetings smoothly with his hands to everyone in the room.