The door snicks shut behind Sloane. “Fuck,” I say into the phone when I answer Caleb’s call.
“That bad, huh?”
“Goddamn it.” I slump onto the couch and sigh. “I just kissed Sloane, and I was about to do a whole lot more if you hadn’t interrupted.”
“Screw my shitty timing. I’ll hang up, and you can pretend like this never happened.”
The line dies, and I stare at my cell for a few seconds before laughing. I love that my best friend is still the same crazy goofball I’ve grown up with. I call him back, but he doesn’t answer the first two times. On the third time, he picks up. “Dude, this can wait. Go get your girl.”
“She’s not my girl, and I’ve sent her to bed. Alone.”
Caleb heaves out a sigh. “You’re your own worst enemy, DiPietro.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“I heard about tonight,” Caleb says, and all trace of humor is gone from his tone. “Wanted to check in and ensure you were all okay.”
“We’re fine. We were well protected, and the idiots were massively outnumbered.”
“I want in on the interrogation. I haven’t had any fun in a long time.”
“There won’t be an interrogation.” I swing my legs around, lying lengthways on the couch with my feet dangling over one side. “When we got to Staten Island, we found all three dead in the back of the van.”
“Poison pill?” Caleb accurately guesses.
“Yeah. We should’ve checked them more thoroughly.”
“Cartel men?”
“They were Cosa Nostra but could’ve been put up to it by the cartel.” I lean my head back and sigh. “Our own men tried to take us out at a fucking family wedding.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“You recognize them?” my buddy asks.
“No, but we’ll ID them in time. Ben is already on it. He might even have an update in the morning.” Our president has called an emergency sitting of the board first thing.
“Okay. We’ll talk more then.”
I hover outside Sloane’s bedroom for a few minutes, silently arguing with myself. I want to crawl into bed beside her and offer her comfort, but I don’t trust myself to keep it PG, and I can’t take advantage of her. She’s had a big shock, and me making moves on her when she might not be fully in control of her actions would be a mistake. So, I force myself away from her door and go to my room.
I jerk off in the shower, imagining Sloane’s in here with me, and I come in record time, something that is becoming the norm these days. I dry off, grab some pajama pants from the dresser, and conk out the second my head hits the pillow.
It feels like I’ve just closed my eyes when my alarm goes off, and I smother a yawn as I throw back the covers. Dressing quickly in jeans, a black sweater, and boots, I borrow one of my old man’s coats and then head out.
It’s still dark out when I walk into the large garage. Half the vehicles inside are mine. I’ve been storing them here because parking spaces are limited at our place in the city. I only have the Lexus SUV and my BMW Series 8 Coupe at the penthouse, but I’ll be moving everything to Connecticut when the new house is ready. Now, more than ever, I’m very keen to leave The Big Apple behind. It’s safer for Elio and Sloane in Glencoe.
I grab the keys to my black Maserati and slide behind the wheel. Then I set off for the forty-minute drive into the city. I don’t usually take bodyguards with me if I’m out alone because I can handle myself. But with the current situation, I think extra backup is smart, so a few of my guys are trailing behind me in an SUV.
The sun is rising when I pull into Commission HQ, arriving the same time as Don Maltese. We walk to the elevator together. “Glad you’re all safe. That’s some bullshit to pull at a wedding.”
“I’m furious,” I admit as we step into the car. Fiero presses the button for the top floor, where the conference room is. “They took aim at Papa too.” They tried to take both of us out.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“We’d better.” I crack my knuckles, incensed to have missed the opportunity to beat the truth out of the three traitorous pricks.
“You still okay for later?” he asks as the numbers climb on the panel.
“Yeah. Elio’s looking forward to it. He was telling Sloane all about Armani yesterday in the car on the way to the church.”
Fiero’s face lights up at the mention of his one-year-old son. “He’s into everything now he’s walking. I spent yesterday putting locks on all the cabinet doors.”
“I can’t wait to see the little guy,” I say as the doors open.
“We have additional guests,” he supplies as we step out into the hallway. “Rowan and Tullia.”
I arch a brow. “They patched things up?”
Last I heard, Mazzone junior was tapping the older Maltese sister, but no one considers it serious. Apparently, they’ve been fucking around, on and off, for years. According to Joshua, Ben isn’t overly pleased his eldest son is messing around with Sofia. She’s known to be a ballbuster and fiercely independent, with stated intentions to never settle down. She’s a good few years older than Rowan, and they certainly set tongues wagging when they first started hooking up when he was nineteen.
The Mazzone heir has been good friends with the youngest Maltese daughter since they were kids. If he was going to hook up with anyone, we all thought it’d be Tullia. Rumors are she thought so too, and it’s why she hasn’t been speaking to either of them in recent times. Sounds like it’s a bit of a mess, but it’s nobody’s business but their own.
“Seems like it, but I didn’t ask.” Fiero shrugs. “I stay well clear of my sisters’ love lives and the resulting drama.”
The rest of the New York dons are in the room when we enter, as well as Agessi from Philly. Most of us are casually dressed. Formality is usually the standard, but early-Sunday-morning emergency meetings are the exception. We grab coffee and pastries before taking our usual seats around the table. Massimo dials in Mantegna, Volpe, and Pagano and starts the meeting by explaining what happened last night.
“What can you tell us about the guys?” Agessi asks, directing the question at me.
“They were all under thirty, and my guess is they were relatively new recruits because I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“They might not be DiPietro soldati,” Mantegna says.
I nod. “True.”
“Did they have tracking devices?” Joshua asks.
“Yeah, but they’d been cut out recently. All of them had stitches and bandages on their upper arms.” I take a sip of my coffee. “It’s how we knew they were one of us.” In recent years, our loved ones had an additional tracking chip installed at the back of their necks. The general masses are not aware of it, and it’s extra peace of mind for our families.
“It’s got to be the cartel,” Caleb says, drumming his fingers on top of the table. “They must have put them up to it.”
“We can’t afford to make assumptions,” Ben says, brushing crumbs from his fingers. “The obvious conclusion is it’s the cartel, but what’s the motive? They knew coming for us at a family wedding was a suicide mission.”
“It could’ve been a warning shot,” Volpe says.
“Seems silly to show their hand like that if it was,” President Greco says.
“No one said they were smart,” Pagano adds.
“What happened with your soldato?” Ben asks Fiero. “Has he made any progress? Could he possibly identify if the cartel were involved or not?”
“He was made, and I had to send him and his family into hiding for their protection,” Fiero says.
“Shame that’s a dead end, but whoever planned this knew it was a suicide mission for sure,” I agree. “It’s why they were given pills. They probably hoped they’d succeed before they were taken out or taken in. Either way, they were ensuring the guys didn’t talk.”
“What action is being taken to ID these guys?” our president asks Don Mazzone.
“The team is already running their photos through facial recognition software. Hopefully we’ll get a hit on at least one of them, and we can go from there,” Ben replies.
For years, we had full online personnel records for everyone, but we stopped the practice because it was too dangerous. If the intel fell into the wrong hands—like a rival mafia, a hacker, the cartel, or the authorities—it could jeopardize the entire Cosa Nostra.
“I don’t need to impress on you how serious the situation is.” Massimo drags his gaze over the table. “I want each of you to personally meet with your capos this week and see if anyone is missing. Files will be emailed to every don in the US today. Show the pictures around. Ask questions at the ground level. Someone knows something.”
“We should share the intel with O’Hara,” Fiero says. “See if his crew has heard anything.”
We’ve been working with the Irish for years on drug distribution in the city. Between us, we’ve driven out the other competitors, but new ones pop up all the time, and we’re continuously dealing with some threat.
The Irish mafia is mostly based out of Boston, but they have a division here. It was initially managed by O’Hara’s brother but after he double-crossed all of us, O’Hara took direct control. He has a few men managing it who report to him, but he closely watches proceedings. He splits his time between New York and Boston and maintains family homes in both cities.
While the Irish and Italian operations are completely separate entities, there is crossover between our teams at the street level in New York, and it’s possible the Irish might have heard something.
“I’ll call him,” Joshua says. “See if he can put out a few feelers.”
“We need to contain this threat,” Massimo says. “We know the cartel is sniffing around, and even if this is unrelated, they are looking for ways in. Don’t give it to them.”
I return my sister’s missed call from the car as I drive back to my parents’ place after the meeting. “Pipsqueak, how are you?” I ask, grinning as I imagine Sabina’s face scrunching in displeasure. My sister loathes that name.
“If you were here, I’d knock you flat on your ass, jerkface.”
I chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”
“I’ve been working out, and I’ve put on muscle. I wouldn’t be too cocky, brother.”
“I’ll have to come visit to test your theory.”
“Bring the new nanny. Mom said she’s super sweet and super pretty and that you’re clearly obsessed with her. Fair warning, she’s already checking out mother-of-the-groom outfits.”
“She is not, and don’t go putting notions in her head.”
“I notice you don’t deny it.”
“Sloane is super sweet and pretty, but I’m not obsessed with her. Good enough for you?”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she retorts. “You should come visit. You haven’t been here in years. Get out of the city until shit blows over. Mom told me what happened, and it doesn’t sound safe for any of you right now.”
“I can’t abandon ship, and Mom and Dad are safe at the house. No one is getting near them, I promise.”
“Mama said they shot at you and Papa. I’m worried.”
“I’m not letting anything happen to them, sis. Don’t worry. Let me handle it.”
“I want to see them, but Nolan can’t abandon work right now.”
Her husband is a heart surgeon at a top hospital in North Carolina. Sabina hates La Cosa Nostra. As soon as she was old enough, she flew the nest, attending college in California and then eloping to marry her college boyfriend when she was twenty-one. Papa was disappointed she wanted nothing to do with the mafioso, but her happiness meant more, so he eventually came around.
Sabina and Nolan have been married for almost seven years but no grandbabies yet, much to Mama’s disappointment. They’re both focused on their careers, and as Sabina just got a promotion at the architectural firm where she works, I can’t see that changing anytime soon.
“We have the same security here,” Sabina reminds me, though there’s no need. I organized and paid for it. Even though she’s not actively involved in La Cosa Nostra, it doesn’t mean she’s safe. Cruz put a target on all our heads. “And you can send a ton of bodyguards with them if you like. The guesthouse is finished now, and they can stay there. Getting them out of the state might be the best option while you figure this out. Send Elio too. I miss his handsome little face.”
It might not be a bad idea. It was already shaping up to be a busy week at work before this additional burden. Knowing Elio is safe and out of harm’s way will ease my mind, and it’ll give Sloane and me time to figure things out. “I’ll think about it and talk to Papa.”
“I expect you to come visit another time, Cristian, with the new nanny you’re not obsessed with.”
I roll my eyes as I take the next exit. “You should come here sometime. You hardly ever visit anymore.”
“I hate New York. I go home once a year for Mama, but I truly hate being back around all that shit,” she grits out. “I’d rather chop off a tit than step foot in The Big Apple any more than is necessary.”
“You kiss your husband with that mouth?” I tease.
“Nolan is well aware of my flaws,” she drawls, and I detect an edge in her tone.
I can’t say I’m overly fond of my only brother-in-law, but it’s not really a fair comment. They live in NC, and I live here, so it’s not like we can meet regularly to bond over a game and a beer. He’s always seemed a bit strait-laced, but all I care about is that he treats my sister right.
“Is everything okay between you?” I ask, taking the next left turn.
“Everything is fine. We’re just busy with work. I’ll take a few vacation days if Mom, Dad, and Elio come. We can take Elio to that Discovery Science place in Uptown Charlotte. He’ll love it. It’s got all kinds of interactive things for kids to do.”
“He would love that.”
“Talk to Pops and let me know. Oh, and by the way, I told Mom it’s fine for Sloane to borrow my things. Tell her to take whatever she needs.”
My nostrils twitch when I enter my childhood home, and I follow the smells to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, I observe the activity within with a growing smile. My mother and Sloane are loading trays filled with different baked goods into the oven while Elio is licking chocolate off the back of a wooden spoon. Sloane laughs at something my mother says, brushing wispy strands of hair off her face and leaving a few chocolate dots on her cheeks.
“Daddy, you’re back!” Elio hops up when he sees me and runs across the room.
I scoop him up into my arms before he can muddy my jeans with his chocolatey hands. I only keep a small supply of clothes here, and I’d rather not have to detour back to the penthouse before heading to Long Island. It makes more sense to go directly from here. “Someone needs to clean up,” I say, tickling his tummy. I’m so glad he slept through everything last night and he’s none the wiser.
“I’ve got him.” Sloane smiles softly at me, opening her arms for my son.
Elio leaps into her arms, and she giggles as she almost loses her balance. She props Elio on her uninjured hip.
“We need to talk,” I say, wiping the chocolate off her face with my fingers.
“Sure.” Her eyes probe mine as my fingers linger on her face. “Let me just clean Elio up first.”
“Don’t lick the bowl, Daddy!” Elio calls out as Sloane walks off. “That’s all mine!”
I stare at the doorway as they disappear through it. Mama appears at my side, looping her arm through mine and smiling. “I approve. She’s perfect for you, and everyone already loves her.”
I open my mouth to argue, but what’s the point?
Mama pulls my face down, kissing my cheek. “Stop letting your head rule your heart, Cristian. I know Aliya hurt you, but Sloane isn’t her. You deserve to be happy. Stop fighting your feelings. Let her in and see where it takes you.”
