“But now, thanks to RICO, those lines are irrelevant. New York and Chicago don’t have to remain enemies. It would be more profitable to work together.”
“Well, be that as it may,” Moscatelli said, “the treaty was established for a reason. I don’t think the reason is any less valid now than when it was first proposed.”
Then the stupid man raised his hand.
“I know, I know. There’re many in my community who don’t like the idea of me dealing with the Russians. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck what the other families think. I only care about what I want, what it’ll take to reach my goals, and everyone else can go fuck themselves.”
He’d just talked himself into a corner. Not giving a fuck and only caring about his own goals contradicted tradition.
Seems he worked pretty hard to present himself as a savvy businessman, and a rational man, but the more he opened his mouth, the more I realized this dumbass just talked in circles.
He must have confused people quite often.
Whether by design or through ineptitude, who knew.
I spread my arms wide as if to bow. I didn’t.
“I’m offering you a much better deal than the Russians, and when you’re not even sure they’re still at the table. I’m offering a hell of a lot more capital up front with the promise of direct trade routes soon.”
Marco looked up from his phone.
“Yes, exactly… a promise. I also did my homework, Vignali. You say you’re joining the Commission, but my source tells me you turned down the seat.”
What the fuck was this guy doing?
I shot him a scowl, then quickly composed myself.
I needed to be calm. I couldn’t allow a breach in my resolve or a fissure in my usual poker face.
“It’s a standing offer, and now that I’ve taken over two other families, which makes me the strongest don in New York, by the way, I’m taking that seat. Within five years, I’ll sit at the head of the table. Opening your trade routes by the middle of next year won’t be a problem unless you make it a problem.”
Marco focused his attention completely on me, narrowing his glowing blue eyes.
“Which families?”
“Capaldo and Malta,” I said.
He scanned the room for Benedetta. She sat alone at a table near the far wall. She met his gaze and nodded with a smile.
“Bullshit, Vignali. You don’t have any claim on those men. You would have to marry Benedetta to take over those families,and you set her aside for Valentina. After all, isn’t that why we’re here in the first place?”
“Benedict Capaldo is dead,” I said. “He died two days ago. Hours after his death, I took control of his men and all business operations. And until Benedetta marries, I control his entire empire. It’s being folded into mine as we speak.”
Don Moscatelli cleared his throat.
“Then you’re only a steward until his daughter marries. That kind of power is inflated and temporary, and maybe the only kind you have. A princess like Benedetta won’t have any trouble finding a husband.”
Son of a bitch then gave Marco a long, knowing look.
Fuck that. No way would Marco get her.
I shook my head to shut down their game.
“You should know, I’m the one who chooses her husband and when she marries.” I raised a brow. “If at all.”
Moscatelli slammed his fists on the chair arms.
“You’re telling me you’ll let that beautiful girl become an old maid and keep the power for yourself?”