Page 26 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
“Your father is angry because he found out you bought Nevaeh from the Vorones.”
“I didn’t buy her from the Vorones. I bought her from the city dance company.”
“Ownedby the Vorones.”
A ragged sigh battles its way out of my sore lungs. “It’s no concern of his.”
“You should call him. It sounds like the Vorones didn’t realize…”
…that I was buying her. Fuck.
Pain fires off inside me as I force myself up this time, gritting my teeth. “I’ll handle it.”
* * *
The Vorones exert dominance over Dresden in a manner the Ziccardis never have. Nero Vorone, the highly regarded and respected Don of the family, has cloaked the city with his influence at every turn. The elected officials he bribes. The thirty-thousand-strong law enforcement under his thumb. The courts he packs and media companies he intimidates into staunch silence. His reach knows no bounds across the huge metropolis.
He owns a fucking ballet dance company. Is there a question he hasn’t monopolized it all?
The Ziccardi’s have always been the David to the Vorone’s Goliath.
We’ve operated well in that position. Second string. The smaller syndicate whose reach doesn’t compare, but still rakes in enough money to thrive and survive. Mainly through the drug trafficking agreement we reached with Nero over Zinc Co.
Nero could’ve crushed us a long time ago if he wanted. He’s kept us around as cover. If the Feds ever wish to crack down on a crime family in Dresden, we’d be the sacrificial lamb he’d offer when he cut a bribery deal.
Zinc Co would be tied only to us in any official capacity. We’d be the ones taking the fall.
At least, that’s my theory on the matter.
In more recent times, relations between him and Pa have soured. The Vorones started to move in on Zinc Co, demanding a bigger cut, and Pa wasn’t having it. He’s wanted me to step in on his behalf. Something I’ve avoided doing.
It seems, where the Vorones would’ve likely overlooked my purchase from their dance company doubling as the flesh trade in the past, they’ve decided to strike up an issue with it now.
I depart my secluded estate located in the mountains miles outside of Dresden. The aftereffects of my treatment still weigh on me, making me less strong and alert than I usually am. No matter, I’ll manage. I always do.
When you have a condition as debilitating as mine, you learn you must.
I’m granted a meeting with Nero at his restaurant, Vecoli. I show up alone while he waits at a table of seven. Three of his guys on either side of him. His amber eyes light up and his mustached lip curls as he greets me.
That’s the other thing about Nero. He’s all about appearances. I don’t think I’ve ever known another mafia guy to be so superficial and concerned with his looks.
Probably because if you stripped away the expensive goods he drapes himself with, you’d be left with a tall, gangly motherfucker who’s got the face of a donkey. Bubbled eyes, brows too manicured for a man, and a protruding nose that takes up too much space.
He’s not, and never has been, easy on the eyes. Which makes him all the more obsessed with superficial shit.
“I’m so glad you could join me, Caelian,” Nero says. He tugs on the steel cufflink of his flashy designer suit. “Please have a seat. It will be a pleasure to break bread.”
I do as asked and take the seat across from him. “I’m only here for one reason.”
“Ah, yes. I figured. Carmine would like for you to discuss business on his behalf. There has been a lot of back and forth about Zinc Co and how we’ll be conducting things going forward.”
“That is what my father is concerned about, yes.”
“He’s upset regarding some stipulations I have proposed. He feels they will hinder his business.”
Two waiters appear to fill up our glasses and place large plates of Italian food in front of us. I ignore the eggplant parmigiana that’s been served to me and meet Nero’s amused gaze.
“Yes, he’s upset,” I admit. “But that is his matter to address. I have a matter of my own.”