Page 28 of The Councilor
“Oh, I do too.” We remained in silence as he continued driving and my thoughts were running wild as to how best to handle this. She would be incensed, but what was worse, two men who had no understanding of being in a relationship? I closed my eyes and tried to keep from laughing. What the fuck did I know.
The girl should be off the radar, completely forbidden fruit. Could she even remain my employee at this point? Maybe I’d have a conversation with my partner. After he spit out his coffee given my announcement, he would agree. Roman Whitfield was always looking for a decent employee. We seemed to go through them like water.
As soon as Vadim drove into the neighborhood, I pulled out my weapon, checking the ammunition. When I slapped the magazine back into place, Vadim threw me another look.
“Don’t start a goddamn war.”
“I have no intention of it unless Luciano is a shithead.”
He laughed and found the house, the large estate at the end of a cul-de-sac. “I have news for you. He’s always going to be a shithead.”
I managed to chuckle as he pulled into the driveway. The place was crawling with soldiers. We’d dispatched two sets of men to hang back in case, but if Luciano was stupid enough to start a battle in his house, then we would likely be sitting ducks.
As soon as we stepped out, two men approached and I gave them a look indicating not to touch. I even showed a sign of good faith by pulling out my Beretta, allowing them to see it. “It’s cominginside with me, gentlemen. If you need to ask your boss if it’s okay, feel free.”
They simply looked at each other again then one of them led us to the wooden front door, allowing us inside. The house was a bit more formidable than I was used to, but still comfortable in design. We were led to a combination family room and dining room, the kitchen in another location.
Luciano was talking with someone, stopping almost immediately as soon as we walked in. He was sizing us up, although we certainly knew what each other looked like.
“Gentlemen. So good of you to make it. This is my associate, Mario. You could call him my right-hand man.”
The brutal-looking man came over, offering his hand.
I almost didn’t take it, but doing so wouldn’t be a good start to our meeting.
After introductions were made, Luciano asked if we’d like a drink. At least the man recognized my name, also in connection to my half ownership of Whitfield and Semenov. However, today I was the Pakhan’s Councilor, a highly respected position.
And something the Italian shouldn’t take lightly.
“Why not. Whiskey for both,” I answered, realizing even Vadim was watching me carefully. I don’t know why it felt important to meet Raphaella in her home setting first. Perhaps because it would solve the remaining question if I was very wrong. Which of course, I wasn’t.
“Excellent taste,” Luciano said, nodding to his right-hand man to handle pouring the drinks. “My chef is currently in the middleof making us dinner. I stole her from the top restaurant in New York City.”
I was too busy looking around the room, noticing very few pictures of family anywhere. That wasn’t entirely abnormal for mafia families. Maintaining privacy was important in our line of work. After a few minutes of hearing their chitchat, I’d had enough.
“Please. Make yourselves comfortable,” Luciano suggested as he sat down in the same kind of over-plush chair that reminded me of the one Vadim kept court in.
It was one of those moments where neither the Pakhan nor I were comfortable, but as with all aspects of business negotiations, there were certain protocols even brutal men needed to follow. Mario was also on edge, eager to whip out a weapon and start shooting.
Vadim sat down first before I took a seat at the end of the couch. Our backs were turned toward the door, which wasn’t good on any level strategically but, if necessary, we’d remind the mafia Don we had people waiting to handle whatever issue came up.
Luciano shifted in his seat, acting as if this was a family gathering. I wanted to laugh but took a sip of my drink instead, placing it on the coffee table and steepling my hands.
“I want to meet the girl,” I told him.
He eyed me with more disdain than before. “I feel it’s only prudent to ask if you brought the signed contract with the identity of my daughter’s fiancé. She does deserve the best.”
“You should have thought of that when you offered her up like a possession.”
Vadim tilted his head, lifting a single eyebrow in a reminder to think about where we were.
“Yes, well, she is a free spirit, refusing to give into rules. I need to guide her through everything.”
“That will be her husband’s job from now on.” I pulled out the executed contract, keeping it in my hands.
“His name?”
“It would seem,” Vadim interjected, “that my second in command has decided it’s time for him to marry.”