Mercenary (Gangsters of New York Book 3) by Bella Di Corte

Author:Bella Di Corte
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Bella Di Corte
Published: 2020-11-12T18:30:00+00:00

“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS, cugino?”Adriano sat next to Baggio in the front of the car, narrowing his eyes against the windshield, trying to see past the rain coming down harder than it had two days ago.

“If I wasn’t—” I fixed my tie “—we wouldn’t be going.”

I took out the card Macchiavello had passed on to me through Sylvester, flipping it around with my fingers. Something shady was going on with him. He ran one of the most successful restaurants in New York. He owned one of the biggest nightclubs in New York. The Club. And none of these places were on any of the books.

He could have been a legitimate business owner, but he catered to too many high profiles. There was a certain kind of honey that was put out for men like us. Once we started hovering, we became comfortable, patronizing places we knew.

Some men got comfortable.

I never created patterns in my life. It was too easy to figure out people who did. One thing I learned in this life—we were all capable of the same amount of damage, so none of us feared each other. What was important was to be able to outsmart the next guy.

Mac Macchiavello was smart.

I was, too.

I had an uncanny ability to read every man in the room, his intentions, and to approach him in a way that would turn the situation in my favor. If not, I acted accordingly. Rarely did I lose my cool, though, because there was no need.

It was either to be or not to be. What was there to get upset about?

“You don’t get mad, Corrado,” my grandfather used to say. “You don’t even get even. You strive to rise above, no matter what it takes to get there. If the door refuses to open, go through a window. It’s as simple as that.”

My grandfather taught me early on what it meant to be a man worthy of this life.

What it meant to have respect, not only for men, but for women.

What it meant to be loyal. To respect a code put in place for a reason.

What it meant to carry on traditions. To honor our old ways and welcome new ones that would only make us stronger as a family.

What it meant to love as fiercely as we hated.

He was a product of that life.

So was I.

I wore the fucking suit.

Alcina felt that I was cold, even callous, and I was. I was a gangster, a mobster, a racketeer—a rare breed in this life, my grandfather used to say—and the boss of one of the largest and most powerful families in New York. I wasn’t even forty years old yet. I had started at the bottom just like everyone else, and I made my way up to the top with no problem. I was smart, and I rarely made mistakes.

Yet, despite who I was, I loved that woman more than a poet loved romantic words. Even more than the night sky loved the moon.

My grandfather used to say, “You can’t have a heart, Corrado.

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