Page 75 of Rosetti Family New York
Domenico
Friday night and Il Lusso simmers like it’s alive. Crowds push through the doors, lean against the dark marble bars, and turn the club into a seething pulse of New York’s elite. I move through them like a shadow, even in a room full of suits. When I reach Rafe, he’s drinking already. His jaw is set, ready for a fight. So am I.
With him, it’s hard to tell where the drinking ends and the fighting begins. Rafe wears both like a second skin. Like those black leather gloves he never takes off. My brother. The loyal soldier. The one who never cared for suits and ties, just wanted to throw his muscle around. These days he stays in line, but it wasn’t always like that. He used to run wild, drunken and dangerous and half feral. I'm the one who kept him in the stable and put his muscle to good use for the family. And he can’t forget it.
“The chemist better have this formula ready,” he says, voice low. “Before someone takes her out.”
The threat hovers between us, unspoken but solid as the dark walls. I nod, more to myself than to him. I’ve thought it athousand times. Clara Voss is the lifeline of this launch, and if she’s exposed, it all collapses.
“We double security,” I say, my voice cutting through the noise. “No one touches her.”
“Not enough, Dom.” Rafe drains his glass and signals for another. “You need to launch, fast.”
Typical. Rafe would flood the streets tomorrow if he could. The broader the release, the messier. I’ve seen chaos and what it does to a man. Dad’s demands are loud in my head: lead with strength.
I’ll lead with precision.
I'm next in line, expected to take over the family business, and I know what that means. Dad's got his expectations. He's king of the Rosetti empire, but I’m the heir. Soon enough, this whole damn thing will fall on me, and everyone's watching to see if I step up or fall down. I can’t afford one mistake on this. I can’t let Sal even have a whisper of doubt about my ability to run things.
Rafe thinks I’m playing it safe, but he's never had to steer a ship this big. He’s all about muscle, storming in, sweeping the streets. Leaving a trail of blood and chaos, and watching it all burn from the sidelines. That’s not what we need right now. Not with something this massive. We have something bigger planned, bigger than anything this family has done before, and I have to launch it right. I’m not about to let it blow up in our faces because Rafe wants to play cowboy. I’m not going to let the old man say I can’t handle the pressure.
Rafe’s got no patience. He never did. He never looks past the fight that’s right in front of him. But me, I see every angle, every threat. I know when to strike. And when to wait to make the impact last, to make it stick. You need more than force to run this family. You need to be surgical. This isn’t a matter of brute strength. It’s a matter of control.
“We do this right,” I say. “Exclusive markets. Controlled.”
He leans back, studying me, deciding how far to push. “Dad’s not going to wait forever.”
“Neither am I.”
His smirk is sharp, more resigned than amused. He thinks I’m stubborn, and he’s not wrong. The pulse of the club beats on around us, muffling our words from curious ears. Glasses clink, voices rise and fall, and none of it touches me. I’m two steps ahead, planning the next move. Dr. Voss better be too.
The elevator dings, and I spot her—a blur of wild hair and nerves, shoulders hunched against the throng. Clara Voss looks like she’s been dragged here by a hurricane. Her eyes find mine, wide and frantic. She’s late. She’s flustered. Not a good sign.
“What’s going on?” I ask as soon as she reaches us.
“Oh, I…” she points vaguely toward the door as though that explains anything.
“Is something wrong with the formula? You said it was ready.”
“I said almost.” She catches her breath, and the words tumble out. “There’s a purity issue. A breakthrough. I mean, it could be a breakthrough.”
Rafe mutters something I don’t bother to catch. I’m focused on the chemist, who looks like she might bolt any second.
“Why do you look so spooked?” I ask.
Clara takes another breath, her voice still shaky. “I thought someone was following me.”
She hesitates, darting a glance at Rafe before her gaze locks back on mine.
“Outside,” she continues, eyes wide as if reliving those frantic moments in the street.
The panic in them says she’s sure of it, but she shrugs like she’s trying to convince herself it’s nothing.
“I don’t know. I got scared,” she admits, hands twisting together like they can’t find a place to settle. Her words spillout as if she can’t get them out fast enough. “It was probably nothing.”
Maybe she believes that, but I don’t. Not with a deal this big. Not with a drug this clean.
“We need to move you,” I tell her. “Somewhere secure.”
