Nico
Ipull into the parking lot behind the club about half an hour later. Getting into the city at this hour is a cakewalk, especially since everyone is already at their New Year’s Eve parties, and the surrounding, non-descript streets are lined with limos, Escalades, and blacked out Town Cars doing drop offs. This isn’t an area that’s very well-traveled, which is what makes it the perfect place for A-listers to party. And at Culaccino they know I can get them anything they want and need in the most discreet manner.
I grab my jacket from the backseat and slide my arms into it before slamming the door shut. The lot is small, and it only fits a few cars, which means I don’t have to worry about my R8 being sideswiped on the very narrow, cobblestone street. I head toward the back entrance, but a beat-up black car stops directly in my path, blocking me from the door. I don’t make a move, but my gun is securely tucked under my shirt should I need to grab it and fire off a round. I almost forgot to grab it before I left the house and remembered because I didn’t want Shaye to see it. It represents the big reason why this thing between us is still so fucking dangerous, and we have enough other shit to deal with, namely Max and our fathers. I don’t need to bring this element into the mix just yet. She’s not stupid. She knows the deal. She just doesn’t need to see the reality sitting on the foyer table.
The driver’s side door creaks open and I reach behind me, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as I wait for the next move.
“Nico…” A low gruff voice speaks my name as the driver’s head covered by a baseball cap pops out of the car. Fuck me. It’s Santino Lucchese, Rocco’s father. “Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.”
“Santino, it’s not a great time. I have a special event going on inside, and this type of business doesn’t belong here. Not tonight.”
“Please,” he repeats. He rests his hand on the hood of the beat-up old Chevy car. I squint. Odd vehicle for someone like him to drive. But then again, Santino was old school, like Grandpa, and always lived modestly. He knew exactly how to avoid raising eyebrows. His son, unfortunately, never got that message. And even after that stint in California, he still hasn’t learned his lesson.
I take a few steps toward the car, my hand still on the piece. After a minute of inner battle, I concede. Dad needs him, and I kind of fucked up his plans with Rocco. I should at least listen to what Santino has to say. “Okay. Come inside, and we can talk in my office.” This isn’t a conversation for the club, but I can’t see into the dingy windows of the car. No fucking way am I getting inside. At least if he takes me up on my offer, he’s on my turf. And there are plenty of people I can call on to take him out if it comes to that. The party is in an exclusive room reserved for special events, so there’s no risk of my personal business being made known to the masses.
Santino pauses for a split second, then nods. “Sure. Thanks.”
I watch him pull into a spot across from mine, and he struggles to get out of the car. I notice he’s walking with a limp, and he’s hunched over a bit, making him look older and feebler than his sixty years. I hold open the door and follow him inside, pointing down a darkened hallway. I let him lead since he’s got plenty of reasons to want me dead, and I have one very big one — she’s, in fact, hopefully still naked in my bed — for wanting to stay alive.
We reach my office, tucked away in the corner of the second floor. I have a handful of guys staking out this hallway whenever we host events because you can never tell who might try to get a little too close for comfort. Santino eyes each and every beefy bodyguard as we make the trek to my little slice of peace and quiet. I open the door and wave him inside. I nod at Duke, the largest of the four guards and he slides his hand over one of the weapons in his waistband. It’s the only one I see, but I know that there are plenty more on his person. And he will use them all whenever needed. It’s why I pay him so much, and why he’s worth every damn penny.
“Have a seat,” I say to Santino as I round my desk and drop into my chair.
He sinks into the chair across from me and lets out a deep sigh. “Nico, I’m not going to waste your time. I’ve come to ask you to please reconsider getting Rocco a job. I know he’s made his mistakes, big ones, but he needs a second chance.” He slides his baseball cap off his balding head. “You’re the only one who can help him out of this.”
I drum my fingertips on a stack of folders. “Look, Santino. I’ve always respected you. You’ve never wronged me or my family, and I know you have a history with my dad. But Rocco really fucked up. And the only reason why he’s back in Jersey right now is because my grandfather is gone. He doesn’t seem to give a shit that he disrespected Max or deVincenzo with that stunt he pulled.”
“Trust me, Rocco is sorry. He knows if he can’t work with you, he’s screwed.”
“And you know that if I don’t work with him, he’s not the only one who’ll be screwed.”
“I don’t think I need to tell you how hard it’s been on my family, Nico. Your grandfather, God rest his soul, crushed Rocco’s livelihood.”
“Rocco made some pretty fucking bad decisions, Santino. Leave my grandfather out of his bad life choices.”
“He knows that. Believe me. He just needs to show the world that you don’t hold it against him. He wants to make things right and to be taken seriously by your family. Nico, everyone respects you and your father. Hell, your dad had my back when nobody else did, and I owe him for that. But you know that there are plenty of people who are struggling for power now. Let us help you keep it. Rocco can help protect your place in the organization.”
“He’s got nothing to offer me. Nothing but a history of bad judgment. Why should I help him? What do I get out of it?”
“You’re a reasonable man, Nico, and you know how quickly things can change in this kind of an organization. The Don is gone, but there were a lot of people who didn’t like the way he did things, people who have new ways of doing things. We can protect you from them. Rocco can protect you.”
I rub the back of my head because I know everything Santino is saying is true. It’s why my father wanted me to work with Rocco in the first place. But the guy is a fucking lunatic, and he never knows when to keep his damn mouth shut. I can’t trust him as far as I can throw him, so how the fuck am I supposed to associate with him on a business level?
Santino is desperate. His voice wavers, and he knows this is his only shot to be taken seriously in the organization again. He’s already lost so much because of his dickhead son. He shouldn’t suffer, too. And you know what they say…a desperate man is a loyal man.
And so again, my own loyalties are pitted against one another.
“I can give him something, but he’s going to have to start small and work his way back up. He also needs to learn to keep his fucking mouth shut. If he gets greedy and takes advantage of this opportunity, I’ll find out about it. Then I walk away for good. Understand?”
Santino nods his head, hope alive in his eyes. Lucky for him I have more tolerance for bullshit than my grandfather. Now I just have to figure out how to keep Max and Rocco, two mortal enemies, on my side and away from each other at the same time. But Dad will be happy because this move keeps the balance of power in our favor. I’d never even had a chance to tell him I told Rocco to piss off after that first meeting, but now it seems moot.
There are a lot of things that should be at the top of mind right now — how I’m going to explain all of this to Max without ending up with a bullet between my eyes, how I’m going to keep a leash on Rocco so he doesn’t fuck me over, how I’m going to deal with the rage from the families that Rocco screwed over when he was running those bets. The list goes on and on, so it’s not ideal that all I want to do is go home and fuck Shaye senseless until neither one of us can move.
You have a lot of responsibilities now, Nico.
My grandfather’s voice drifts back into my conscious. I’d love to have a few more minutes with him to figure out why the hell he ever got involved with this shit in the first place.
I want it all, but can I have it all? That’s the magic question, one I have yet to answer for myself. Seems like any direction I go will lead to a dead end. And someone’s gonna have the barrel of a gun pointed directly at me.