We are brought to a private room in the back with a long table almost as large as the one in our dining room at home. There’s nearly a 360-degree view of the ocean surrounding us, and as we take our seats, my eyes are glued to it. What a wonderful way to make a deal— fine-dining with a view.
It’s not long after our arrival and drink orders that the south-side gang arrives. I’ve visited the leader on their turf to initiate this deal, and I will say, he knows how to clean up. The boss— his father recently deceased— is young, fresh, and looking for something to keep his guys strong. I'm familiar with that feeling, trying to seek things to keep you feeling secure and untouchable. That was my selling point for this deal.
His slicked-back brown hair is curling at the ends, brown eyes are soft but focused, and he has one gold tooth on his top row, closer to the back than the front but still visible while smiling. Some of his men accompany him, sitting down before he does.
“Welcome.” I stand up to greet them and kiss them on both of their cheeks because I’m Italian, I don’t know. They don’t seem put off by it, which is good, but internally, I cringe because I feel like my father.
“Please, come sit. These are some of the boys: Reggie, Jax, Anders, Knox, Brad, Len, and Tommaso.” I point to each of the guys, and they nod when I say their names.
“Nice to meet you and see some familiar faces again. I’m Maximiliano Luis Alejo, but you can call me Wolf.”
“Thank you for coming, Wolf. We’re all very excited about this union,” I assure him as he takes his seat. I sit down after analyzing his body language to get a gauge for what he might ask me. You can never be too sure with the south-siders. They don’t always play fair. You might think a deal is going one way, then it veers to the other in a sharp left turn.
“Thank you for coming today. We’re thrilled at the possibility of joining forces.” I grin generously, probably more than I should. Still, he returns the smile, so it would seem I’m not coming across as overdoing it.
“We really like the possibility of joining the great San Giovannis in this New Era that Vincenzo proposed. It’s been a long time coming.” He takes a sip of the wine that they’ve delivered to our table while we were talking. “But tell me, what’s in it for us?”
There’s the catch.
“Well, Wolf, we don’t exaggerate when we say that we are the leading mafia family, in the States and overseas, right now, with stakes in locations in every continent, dominating each respective territory wherever we go. To be connected to us will mean more power for your gang and a stronger stretch of peace everywhere.”
He’s turning down his lips in a thoughtful frown, running the tip of his finger along his silverware. We wait for a minute before the server comes with our first course.
It’s silent for every course after that, and my boys don’t dare say anything until he speaks. We’ve been trained better than that. It’s somewhat like the concept of the customer is always right. Yeah. The person we’re making a deal with is always right--that is, until they make a move against us. Then all bets are off.
The moment our servers place a meal course in front of us, he looks up from his plate of surf and turf with caviar truffles, furrows his brows, and nods.
“Yes. I think making this deal with you will be most beneficial.”
“Incredible!” I beam and raise my glass to him. The rest of the boys join in as I announce. “To the strongest and best in the world.”
“Hear, hear.” Wolf widens his gold-tooth smile as we clink our glasses merrily. Knox pulls out the legal documents, binding their gang to us, and I slide them across the table with a pen just before we dig in to dinner. Normally, our deals take longer than one dinner, but the south-siders rarely consult attorneys. Just as predicted, he takes the pen and flips through the papers, signing on the dotted line. When he’s done, we cheer again, and I hand the papers back to Knox, who slides them into our secured briefcase.
“You won’t regret this, Wolf. We have your back.”
“And we will have yours.”
After dinner, we part ways, heading back to the car very tipsy as the boys chant the national anthem of Italy. It’s background noise to me right now because all I can think about is how long I’ve gone without texting Lydia. I check my phone to read the messages she sent me on the way to this meeting.
See you this weekend, Rome.
Wanna drive there together? I think we have to be at the property by 6 a.m.
I feel a grin growing across my lips that I’m rather embarrassed by, though no one is paying attention.
Yes. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 5 am.
Rome. That’s the first time she’s called me that. I think I like that name. No one has ever shortened mine or given me a nickname before. I’m not quite sure why, but I think it might have to do with the fact that I’m a middle child. The forgotten one, I think they call it.
By the time I realize we’re parked outside the house, I’ve been staring at my phone for the past few minutes. The boys hop out of the car, carrying their party inside. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled about this deal, but for some reason, the anticipation of this weekend with Lydia is slightly more thrilling at the present.
“Should let Vince know it was a success.” Knox nudges me after I’ve already slid my phone into my pocket.
“Yeah.” I tilt my head into a shrug and look over at him. He studies me for a second, and then something flashes across his eyes that I can’t figure out until he continues.
“So, this Lydia girl. What do you really know about her?” He doesn’t seem concerned, just intrigued.
“What?” I ask in a knee-jerk response that sounds rather curt.