Page 88 of Ivory Obsession
But I had to do something.
My men had killed Bruno, and that hadn’t gone how I had hoped. He wasn’t a capo, but he was well-liked by the rest of the men who worked for Caruso, and they were angry.
They needed someone to pin it on. They would find out it was a Moretti hit sooner or later. They wanted blood. I just needed to find a way to redirect their anger.
I took a deep breath and looked at all the faces around me. There, in the corner, Marco’s silhouette was a fortress against my dread.
“We’re making moves,” I announced, my fingers dancing through the air, outlining invisible networks, alliances yet unformed. The table in front of me was littered with documents, the scent of fresh ink a sharp promise of wealth yet untapped. These papers could change everything, not just for us but for her—Jade. Her name was a prayer on my lips, a silent plea for strength.
Giovanni, with his granite-hard gaze, sat across from me, his doubt a living thing between us. He toyed with his scotch, the glass catching what little light was left. “Why should we trust you, Dante?” His voice was rough, like gravel tossed in a tin can.
He was a bit older than me, toughened by years on the streets and the scars of countless battles. Still, I stayed my ground, leaning forward, elbows on the table, a predator ready to strike.
Marco’s lighter snapped open, its flame a beacon as smoke curled towards the heavens. I leaned in, so close I could taste the skepticism on Giovanni’s breath. “Because the Caruso family is blinded by tradition. We’re offering progress. Real money.” My words were low, the truth in them ringing louder than any bell tower.
The hum of the neon sign outside bled through the walls, a ghostly soundtrack to our clandestine meeting. Here in the half-light, with the future hanging on a razor’s edge, I played my hand, ready to bet it all to shield Jade from the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.
Giovanni leaned back, his chair creaking under the weight of his decision. “But one of our men is dead. And we think you did it.”
I met his accusation head-on, my resolve as unyielding as the city’s concrete foundations. “You think I had your guy taken out?” I asked, the lie rolling off my tongue, smooth as silk. “Come on, Giovanni. If I could do that, don’t you think I’d wipe out all of Caruso’s pawns while I’m at it?”
Marco’s steps punctuated my words. He circled like a hawk, eyes sharp and ready.
The mid-level goons from Caruso’s side were harder to read, their expressions as closed off as a bank vault. But they were here, in their territory, sure, but listening to me.
“Look,” I said, pushing the folder towards them. Its contents spilled slightly, revealing the shimmer of blueprints and numbers that spelled out our future. “We’re not just talking about turf wars or gun running. This”—I paused, letting the gravity of the moment sink in—“this is biotech. Revolutionizing medicine. And getting filthy rich while we’re at it.”
Marco struck a match, lighting another cigarette. The smoke twisted and danced upward.
“Caruso is stuck in the past, but we...” I let the sentence hang, dangling the bait. “We will own the future. With these advancements, we leverage power in ways Caruso can’t even imagine.”
Their eyes flickered to the documents.
“Think about it,” I urged. “Not just what you’ll gain but what you’ll escape. The shadow of Lorenzo Caruso is long, but we’re offering a way out from under it.”
The air was charged now, thick with thoughts of rebellion and the sweet scent of possibility. Marco closed his lighter with a snap–why he always carried a box of matches and a lighter around was beyond me–and the room went dark for a heartbeat before the lights flickered back to life.
“New York City,” I said, sweeping a hand over the map, “is ripe for the taking. And with your help, we’ll pluck it like an apple from a tree.”
Giovanni’s brow furrowed, but his eyes betrayed his interest. “And what’s in it for you, Dante?” The question was pointed, a knife poised at my throat.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I replied, my voice edged with the steel of conviction. “I’m securing my family’s legacy—and offering you a piece of it.”
There was that. That was part of it, certainly. But I couldn’t lie to myself. Most of this was about protecting Jade.
Caruso had me in his crosshairs, which meant he had Jade in his crosshairs. I couldn’t afford for that to happen.
Giovanni eyes darted between the heavy envelope and me, searching for any sign of deceit. His lips parted as if to argue, but nothing came out. The thud of the cash had spoken louder than any reassurance I could offer.
“This is just the beginning,” I repeated, letting the promise settle over them like a mantle. They were street-smart, these men; they knew opportunity dressed in many guises, and tonight she wore the sharp cut of a Moretti suit.
“Come on,” Marco said. “Would we be here if we weren’t serious? Enzo can make this happen all by himself. But you’re here, and we’re both here…”
“He’s right. My dad completely backs us up,” I said, another lie. Our father would be furious if he knew we were here…but only if we failed.
Marco continued, his voice low and steady, weaving a tale of ambition and potential that knitted the room together in the web of our design. “The old ways are dying, boys. Get on board now, or get left behind.”
The words hung in the air like gun smoke, their message clear: adapt or perish. Changing times called for changing alliances, and I could practically see the gears turning in Giovanni’s head as he wrestled with the prospect.