Then, there were the private rooms. Those rooms were relegated for use only by the richest members of the club who could afford to rent them out. For those that could handle the hefty expense, they could rent the room out for the evening, or even two, if they preferred. They could escort their tantalizing treat for the evening into the fully-stocked roomed and, with the press of a button, they could lock it down from the outside world for up to a week.
I, of course, had my own private space, a room right across from my office. It was outfitted with every single pleasurable instrument found in this community.
I’d only ever taken one woman in there. A woman I thought was going to be the one for me.
But things don’t always pan out, I supposed.
I watched the screens intently. My white suit with its black collar clung to my sculpted body. I was watching the entrance as well as the dance floor, looking for her.
The woman that still didn’t have a name or a face.
My phone rang, interrupting my concentration, and I huffed. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear, listening to the voice talk on the other end of the line.
“Camillo? We got a problem. They’re coming into New York and buying up your properties.”
“Why am I just now learning about this?” I asked.
“Because I’m just now learning it. They’re buying up all the businesses that belonged to the Italians. You know, the ones we visited a few days ago.”
“The ones crumbling under the RICO investigation, I know,” I said. “Why the fuck are they buying them up?”
“I don’t know, but the moment I found out what they were doing, I called.”
“Thanks, brother, but I need more than just their actions,” I said. “I need their motive.”
“My guess is they’re doing it just to piss you off. They did what they did with your father, and now, they’re sticking it to you. I think they’re doing this simply for a laugh. Invading your territory to prove they can.”
“Wait… it’s the Del Vecchio family?” I asked.
There was a string of crumbling Italian businesses that had been tanked because of a racketeering investigation the FBI rained down on the neighborhood. I grew up on those streets. I knew those faces. I knew how scared they were and how their livelihoods were in the toilet. I went around to them and promised them I’d purchase their businesses, breathe life back into their neighborhoods and homes without asking for any disgusting favors in return.
But this family—the Del Vecchio Family—brought my attention back to the past. They killed my father. Put out a hit on him because they thought taking him out meant taking his property. They didn’t realize he was grooming me to take his place. They didn’t realize he’d already transferred many of his assets into my name already.
And now they were making a statement.
It didn’t matter that my father had slaughtered most of the Del Vecchio’s friends. What mattered was that they killed my father when I was only a teenager. The only reason my father killed the head of the Del Vecchio clan was because they were behind my mother’s death.
At least, that’s what my father believed. And no one ever questioned my father.
Ever.
For years, I’d been working on rooting out the rest of this damn family. I’d had some of them killed and some of them thrown in jail. I had some of them take the fall for crimes I’d committed in order to get more information on their growing empire. Piece by piece, I was building the underground kingdom my father had always wanted and I was chipping away at theirs in the process.
But, like a hydra, the moment I cut off one of their heads, two more would grow back.
I was going to have to give this matter my personal attention in order to make sure it was seen through properly. I couldn’t allow this savage, bloodthirsty family to gain a foothold in this city. This was my city. This was my turf. This was where I grew up. These were the streets I ran on.
They belonged to the Moretti Family.
“You think they know?” my brother asked.
“I think we should take them scooping up these businesses as a sign that they at least know the game we’re playing,” I said.
Secretly, I hated life in the mob. I took over the family business because it was expected of me by my father and no one ever questioned my father’s wishes, if they valued their life. He groomed me from the time I was young to take over his seat one day and, by the time I was seventeen, he began making the moves he needed. My guess was he knew the Del Vecchios were coming for his head and he figured he could pull the wool over their eyes by succumbing to them and still not giving them a fucking dime of his shit.