Page 25 of Powerful Deception

Alberto Falcone was my mother’s brother and up until about ten years ago was the mob boss that ran all of Chicago.

Alberto was fucking ruthless, some people comparing him to the mobsters from the forties. The bastard was killed when a Molotov cocktail was thrown into his car as he was pulling out of the driveway.

What a glorious day that was. And no, I wasn’t the one that threw the cocktail, though there are days where I wish I did.

Years before his death, I had branched out from under the wing that was my mother’s family. I did jobs for them here and there but nothing to get me a seat at the table with the boss and his soldiers. I was mostly involved out of respect to the boss’s sister.

I had always wanted to open up a club that was so elite that even the richest of the rich had to pay to be able to step through the doors. When I finally saved enough money, Perversa was the first thing I put into fruition.

It took everything that I had in me to get the place started. Blood, sweat and tears.

Within a year we were the talk of the town and had Chicago’s elite asking for access to the most gorgeous girls that the world had to offer.

The success of the club was something that Alberto hated and hated it even more because he knew that I was making money without him. He knew that if I continued, I would soon become more powerful than he could ever think of.

You see, Alberto saw me as a threat, especially when I became of age and would never show him any respect.

My father always saw Alberto for who he was and so did I.

And if I had even an ounce of respect for the man, that disappeared the second that my parents died. Alberto called a hit to take me out because he didn’t like that his men were interested in the type of business adventures I was doing. So, he thought that he would earn his men back by having me killed, but he failed.

He had someone shoot up the house that he thought I had bought for myself, but in reality, I had bought it for my parents.

Like Angelina, they died before the paramedics arrived.

After that I hated the bastard and I distanced myself from him and that life even more.

That is until the fucker died three years later, and because he had no living heir, his men, his family looked to me to take over the family business.

I wanted to say no, but after taking a few weeks to think about it and saw the benefits that life would bring, I agreed.

I agreed to be the new crime boss of Chicago and the Falcone Family was extinguished and replaced with the Rosettis.

For years, making money and getting rid of people that crossed me was the only thing that I had to live for. That is until I met Angelina six years ago. She was the daughter to the family’s consigliere. She was a few years younger than me and beautiful and I was enthralled by her right away. We started seeing each other and within the year we were married, and the king of the underworld had his queen.

We were the perfect pair. People said she was the light to my darkness. That is until the darkness took over and the light was taken away never to be turned on again.

Now here I am, a powerful mafia boss, running a few businesses, completely wife-less and trying to raise two children by himself.

The business can die tomorrow, and I wouldn't care, as long as the kids are taken care of, that’s all that matters.

As for the Rosetti famiglia, I’m sure that if I died tomorrow, my second in command would be happy to take over. He sure as hell would deserve it especially after dealing with my exasperating ass for almost ten years.

A phone ringing takes me out of my own head. Shaking my thoughts away, I grab my phone from where it sits on my desk and see that it’s an unknown number.

Fucking great.

I check the time before swiping at the answer button. I guess I’m not the only one that starts their day in a godawful time.

“Rosetti.” I answer, not even bothering to be polite.

“I’m setting up a meeting.” the voice on the other end says.

I don’t even have to fucking ask who it is. There is only one person that calls me at this time from an unknown number. The other king of Chicago.

“For what?” I ask, not wanting to deal with this shit.

“Doesn’t matter. Can you meet or not?”