And it led to Emilio Meccuci taking an oath; no longer as the acting boss, never again as an Underboss, but as a Capo dei capi.
Now, sitting in the office of a newly acquired hotel in the center of the city, he waited for Noah Falcone. They were supposed to have a long-overdue meeting to discuss business. A flickering light shone through the grate of a lit fireplace, casting a soft shade of gold across the marble floors. It had become a spot for the mafioso’s most secret meetings. Emilio didn’t repeat Severo’s mistake to invite people into his home. It seemed like an unnecessary risk that could easily be eliminated.
Brow furrowed, Emilio heard a strangely raspy male voice filled with cold scrutiny. Something about it made the sparse hairs on the boss’ neck stand up. He couldn’t distinguish who it belonged to, but it sounded oddly familiar. The only hint of the possible answer was given by the clock striking four in the afternoon. The realization that it must be the Capo of the Las Vegas Famigliawashed over him.
The doors creaked open revealing a tall, muscled man, the same coldness in his voice flashing on his face. Judging by his hardened features, there was nothing left of the twenty-year-old man that Emilio had last seen. The events from four years ago had made it clear that none of them could keep their way of being while holding the most powerful positions at the same time. They’d had to change, adapt to their new circumstances.
Noah looked around the room in search of any suspicious activity. There was no trust on either side, as Emilio gripped his belt a few inches away from his gun just in case the man had come with bad intentions. The corners of Falcone’s lips twitched slightly, barely able to hold off a smirk. For Noah, there was no question as to who had more to lose in case their shaky peace was terminated. Seattle was still under close FBI supervision, allowing little space for mistakes, while Las Vegas thrived under his new rule. Both men had secrets that could destroy everything at once; neither of them quite willing to burn that bridge yet.
Emilio nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the Capo for even a split second.
"Let’s get this over with quickly. I have other engagements to deal with," stated Noah as he sat down at the round table situated in the middle of the office. His brows raised in a questioning manner.
The older man cleared his throat, following his acquaintance’s move. "Yes," he said and placed a thick file in front of Noah.
"I hope you don’t intend for me to read that, do you?" he asked with a hint of contempt. He had people to do it for him if necessary, while he was meant to take care of other engagements. There was no way in hell he would bother with paperwork when he had so many things to do throughout the day.
Annoyance flickered in Emilio’s eyes. He hated working with someone who was so much younger, less experienced, and way too arrogant for his own good. Not taking things seriously made him seem unprofessional.
"I want a bigger percentage of your business here. Twenty percent is not enough anymore."
"And why is that? Don’t you have a few new projects in the process of being incorporated into the business? Somehow I doubt you need a higher percentage of the Japanese restaurant."
Quite frankly, Noah didn’t give a shit about how much money he got out of his business in Seattle because it was the value within that mattered to him. However, Emilio didn’t know that, and never would as long as Noah had a say in that. So, he had to cover his indifference with annoyance and distaste for what the Seattle Capowas asking of him.
Emilio frowned, clearly not happy with the way he was being spoken to. Both men were too proud and eager to show their strength. Alpha men all the way. And as they had completely different characters, it was more than certain that they were standing on thin ice, minutes away from slashing each other’s throats.
"I won’t look weak in the eyes of my men just so you can have a few thousand more in a single branch of your business." Emilio bared his teeth in a smile that could easily scare the shit out of anyone. Even Falcone himself if he wasn’t equally scary with the smirk that creeped up on his perfectly calm face.
He opened his mouth to answer, but at the same time, the doors of the office swung open with such impact that both men pulled out their guns, aiming in that direction. A young girl with long wavy blond hair barged into the room, full of anger that wouldn’t escape anyone’s attention; a woman on a mission. But when she realized that she was held at gunpoint, she paused raising her hands up in a peaceful gesture. Her eyes widened and flashed with fear.
The Seattle Capoquickly lowered his gun; however, Noah remained alert. He looked curiously at the girl. She was no older than seventeen years old and surprisingly short. She was wearing a long flowery black skirt, Nirvana vintage t-shirt and Dr Martens, and it could have been described as an odd fashion decision to pair those items together. But somehow the girl made it work perfectly. The strange, contrasting combination made her hard to read. Whether she was a scared little girl by nature or a fierce woman who wouldn’t let anyone talk shit about her. Two totally different possibilities that intrigued Noah and made him curious to know just who she was exactly. He smirked yet again and placed his gun back in its holster.
Emilio cleared his throat, stepping up to the girl. He tightly gripped her wrist. A protective gesture that only made it clear to Noah who she was. The youngest daughter. And she probably shouldn’t have been
