Page 71 of Sweet Prison
Massimo turns toward Brio, his face a mask of barely subdued rage. His jaw is tightly clenched, and the vein on his forehead is pulsing, a sure sign that he’s moments from losing his temper.
“Are you suggesting that I’ve been acting against the Family’s best interest?” Massimo’s voice is eerily low. He appears ready to kill Brio on the spot.Shit.
“I’m just saying that I don’t see how this benefits Ajello. Why would he want to let us in? Unless you’ve made another—private—deal with him that you don’t want to share with the rest of us.”
Oh God.Brio just insinuated that Massimo has been working toward his own concerns and contrary to the Family’s. I chance a look at Massimo just as he’s reaching behind his back. He always carries a gun.
Under the table, I lay my palm on Massimo’s thigh and give it a squeeze. He doesn’t seem to notice.Shit.I squeeze it again, so hard that my nails almost poke through the fabric of his pants. His body tenses, and for a fleeting moment, he just sits there with his hand suspended behind his back. I look down at the surface of the table and tighten my hold on his leg until my damn fingers hurt. The Council still hasn’t voted. He can’t outright kill that bastard for insubordination or impudence. Not yet anyway.
Lacking another option, I continue to draw long, even breaths until I feel a soft caress on my fingers. Massimo’s hand covers mine. Despite the roughness of his skin, his touch is feather-light. Reassuring. I lift my gaze and find Massimo relaxing back in his chair, his other hand on the table. No gun.Thank fuck.
“As a matter of fact…” His voice is nonchalant, the complete opposite of his demeanor from just seconds earlier. “I do have a deal with Ajello.”
All eyes are now focused on Massimo, waiting. His gaze slides over every man present and stops on Brio. “Ajello ran into a few obstacles obtaining building permits for a project he has planned in Chinatown. As it happens, the Triad owed me a favor, so Mr. Wang will be happy to assist our new partner in obtaining them.”
“I don’t remember the Family doing any favors for the Triad,” Tiziano grunts.
“Because it didn’t. I did,” Massimo smirks. “And their debt was significant enough to spark Ajello’s interest. Which is why I’m sitting here six months earlier than expected, after he fixed things for me,” he says and pins Tiziano with his unrelenting stare. Then, he turns to Primo. “Starting next month, Primo, you’ll be laundering Ajello’s dirty money.”
Outraged cries explode anew, with the men practically losing their shit en masse, but Massimo just continues to chill in his chair, observing this latest flare-up with a serene smile. The entire time, he keeps my hand in his under the table.
“And what are we going to do with our own dirty money?” I whisper.
“The New York Family will take care of it for us, of course.”
The yelling suddenly stops, and all heads turn to Massimo.
“Even with numerous shell companies, the businesses we use to launder our money lead back to us. If someone digs deep enough, they’ll make the connection,” Massimo says. “That risk practically disappears with Ajello in the picture. His infrastructure will add at least three levels of protection, so tracing the source of our cash will be twice as hard. Between the mortgage loans and the interest payments, the inflated prices will be a wash. Throw full concierge services on top, and all the complementary vendors they depend on, and this complex becomes a goddamned license to print money. So, we help Ajello, he helps us. Problem solved.”
For almost a minute, no one says a word. They just stare at Massimo.
“You think it will work?” This from Adriano, always the shrewd businessman.
“Like a Swiss watch,” Massimo declares. “And if needed, we can always have the Bulgarians ‘clean’ our extra funds through their chain of car washes. I just need to boot Camorra out of their scheme first.”
“And how are you planning to do that?” Brio again.
“By kicking Efisio and his lot out of our territory. That idiot cousin of his, Alvino, dared to kidnap the don’s daughter. It gives us grounds for retaliation. I want Camorra out of Boston. If theydon’t choose to leave, I’ll pick them off, one at a time, until our streets are cleansed of their filth.”
“That was more than three years ago, Massimo,” Brio throws in. “We can’t act on it now.”
Massimo cocks his head to the side and smirks. “Well, I was out of town for a while and I just found out about that little detail. For me, it’s as if it happened last Friday.”
“We don’t need any skirmishes with outsiders. It’s bad for business.”
“Let me tell you what’s bad for business,” Massimo barks and leans forward. “Our competitors thinking they can pull shit like that and get away with it because Cosa Nostra is weak. That era is done. From this point on, every single person in this city will know that no one fucks with our Family. We’ll be what we once were—the embodiment of fear and respect. People will tremble when they hear the Cosa Nostra name. And if I need to paint the Boston streets with Camorra blood to make that happen, so be it.”
Nods of affirmation from all around the table. Even Brio.
“I’m glad you agree. Then, let’s do what we have gathered here to do, shall we?”
I swallow. It’s time for the Council to cast their votes. The voting ritual, the oath, and the subsequent swearing of allegiance to the new don is sacred. Massimo’s invitation for me to be present at this meeting means the world to me—something he may never realize—but I don’t want him breaking any more rules on my account.
Giving his leg another light squeeze, I rise and head toward the door before he can stop me.
“Refreshments await you in the lounge when you’re done,” I toss over my shoulder and hightail it out of the dining room.
The door closes behind Zahara with a soft click. With her exit, the animosity rises within me once again. Ten minutes ago, I almost ruined everything I’ve been working over two decades of my life for. If she hadn’t grabbed my leg and snapped me out of the blind rage that threatened to consume me, I would have probably killed Brio where he sat.