CHAPTER FOUR – ALESSANDRO
“Your message was delivered,” Bones says, getting into the back of the car and handing me a bottle of wine.
Mattia “Bones” Amato and Tommy “Knuckles” Ricci are my two bodyguards. I rely on them for everything except the shit I have to handle.
“Good. Did he appreciate the free meal?” I ask, turning over the bottle of 1990 Bianchi Colombo in my hand.
I smile at the bottle, kiss it, and say, “God bless Dante Bianchi.”
My cousin Dante owns a vineyard and winery, and his vineyard is the source of all the DeLuca wines for every restaurant and establishment we own. He has a perfect selection of vintage wines that he sends me from his vineyard in Sunset Harbor, North Carolina, for my collection.
“Have you taken care of that other business, Bruce?” I ask The Enforcer as we pull away from the empty warehouse where we just held a meeting.
I’m heading for my restaurant, Fuoco, for another meeting. One that involves no violence.
“Shipment went out this morning, and the money’s been collected,” he replies from the front passenger seat.
“Frank Steele?” I ask, turning to Bones.
“He’s an excellent swimmer,” Bones replies.
“We’re late for the meeting, boss man,” Knuckles says, looking at me in the rearview mirror as we hit traffic on Piedmont Road.
“I know. Call Lorenzo and tell him that we’re en route and we should be there in less than ten minutes,” I reply. “Also, make sure that the Valentino couple has whatever they want or need tonight. I’ve got another call to make.”
“You’re going all out for that asshole?” Knuckles asks when I finish my phone call as we get closer to the restaurant.
When I was notified that Carlo Valentino had reservations tonight, I informed the chef and the maître d’ that his meal would be on the house.
Shrugging, I say, “I made a promise. I uphold my promises.”
“Thought you didn’t like him.”
“It’s not personal. It’s business. But still…a promise is a promise,” I say.
“Fucking mafia capo wanna have a heart. How the fuck are you gonna run an empire like that? Don’t let word get back to the old man,” Knuckles says, referencing my father.
I glare at him. “Shut your face and drive! That’s enough out of you,” I warn.
“Does he know you’ve got someone on him, Boss?” Bones asks.
“Nah, I don’t think he’d appreciate it, but he doesn’t know who he’s fucking with. I’m a man of my word. The least I can do is protect him and his family. Guy’s got some fucking balls; I’ll tell ya that. Cutting off the Colombo family and turning down a handout from the DeLucas. The land is only worth four and three-quarters of a mill, and I offered him five point five,” I say, shaking my head. “Not a good fucking look. I tried to protect him, and he refused. I can’t do much more knowing the Colombos are gunning for him. That’s like hanging a fucking target on my back and telling them to aim,” I say as my phone rings.
Frowning, I hold up a finger to stop any further comments. “It’s Frankie,” I say of my right-hand man. He always goes ahead of me to any location to check it out before I arrive.
“Frankie, speak to me.”
“We just been hit!”
“What happened?”
“They threw a bomb in.”
“What’s the damages?”
“Lots of people are gone. A few survivors, but not sure how long.”
“Where are you? You okay?”