Page 36 of Unholy Union
We’ve stayed out of their way, and they’ve damn sure stayed out of ours.
As one of the other Five Families in New York, the Falcos tend to blow in whichever direction the wind goes. If they were an element in nature, they’d be air.
But that doesn’t mean they don’t hold any power; they’re one of the Five for a reason. They’ve got their piece of the pie just like the Corsinis, Valentes, and the other families. They run their front business, Aquila Regulatory Solutions, which helps companies with things like building permits and safety inspections.
…and which makes them a potentially valuable asset in our hostile takeover of Corsini Construction and war against Don Corsini himself.
Nevertheless, I hurry him the hell up. I straighten my cufflink and cock an impatient brow. “I mean this with all due respect, Rudy, but I didn’t come here to talk about some dumbfuck who got shit on by a seagull.”
Rudy laughs and so do his two guys. “Can always count on Cato Valente for a laugh or two! Which reminds me, Don Falco sends his congratulations on the nuptials. He’s sorry he couldn’t be there in person, but he hopes you enjoyed his generous gift. You know, we’ve got some options too. The Don’s niece is a realsweet girl. Easy on the eyes too. Perfect for somebody like your little brother, Cassian. Could be a love match.”
At the subtle clench of my jaw, he coughs into his curled up hand and then glances over his shoulder at his two soldiers.
“Anyway,” he goes on, “word is you’d like to talk about some potentially mutually beneficial arrangements. Don Falco is interested and listening.”
“You’ve heard correctly,” I answer. “We would like to set something up if you’re open to it. Something that could benefit both your family and mine. Aquila sees a lot of permit and zone requests come through. Many from Corsini Construction I’m guessing.”
“Dozens,” Falco says. “Hundreds! Matter of fact, they just submitted one the other day. Corsini’s trying to push a new zoning request through 42nd.”
“Then you can guess why we might be interested in you possibly delaying those from time to time. So long as we offer you something in return, of course,” I explain. “The way our business is set up, we could import you almost anything you want—orexport if that was more what Don Falco had in mind.”
A toothy grin returns to Rudy’s face as he strokes his jaw. “That sounds like it just might be worthwhile to the boss. I’ll have to let him know and then get back to you. But I don’t see why we can’t work out a little something something. We’ve always been fond of you Valentes. You’re good people.”
We leave Rudy Mancini and his two soldiers at the pier, agreeing we’ll check back once he’s relayed our message to Don Falco. We turn and head back toward the Escalade. Lazaro falls into step at my side, his tense energy matching mine.
“We’ll see if they bite,” I say simply. “The Falcos have worked with the Corsinis before on their construction projects. Who’s to say if they’ll work with us against them? He could’ve been fishing.”
Lazaro nods. “Bait from Rinaldo.”
“We’ll find out in time either way. Once our plan’s set into motion, the Falcos will have to choose. None of that both sides bullshit they always pull. Either they get with the winning team or they prepare to lose with the Corsinis.”
As my father’s son, this feud has been going for as long as I can remember. But it doesn’t matter that the bad blood between the families has lasted decades. I’m his heir, which means I’m the one taking over the fight, and there’s one key difference our rivals don’t seem to understand.
I don’t start wars. But I do finish them.
Nine hours later, I’m seated at the Butcher Steakhouse with a slab of bloody red meat on my plate and two art collectors across the table from me. They’re the same collectors I was supposed to have the morning meeting with earlier when I had Harper reschedule.
But then I learned what their deal was—exporting some Basquiat Canvases from some billionaire’s private collection overseas. Each piece was an easy ten or fifteen million and the collectors are offering our company double our usual cut.
The profit margin was a no-brainer.
It would be no problem at all for Valente Luxura to make their request happen.
So instead of heading home, I came to the Butcher. I’m spending the evening across from the two snooty art collectors as my phone dings and pings from the pocket of my pants.
I check it again for the sixth time in the last ten minutes.
Sabrina and I had it out earlier. She demanded to know when I was coming home. If I’d be there for dinner. We’ve only beenmarried a little over a week, and most nights, I haven’t been. I’ve either been at the office conducting business for Valente Luxura or around the city conductingotherkinds of business for the family.
Sheshouldunderstand.
She’s the wife of acaporegimefor fuck’s sake.
I’m a busy man who wears many hats. I don’t have time to sit at a candlelit table over red wine and stare adoringly into her eyes like in some romance film. I’m seated at a candlelit table with red wine—and bleeding red meat—but it’s with people I need to secure a deal with.
It’s a business dinner. Not some private moment between a man and his wife.
Besides, it’s not like we can stand each other. As soon as we’re together, we’re irritated and biting each other’s heads off.
