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Mmm, we’d be perfect together, I think with a dreamy little smile. We might not see each other much because we’d always be working, but that’s okay. That’s the kind of relationship I could handle.
Every time the Five Families meet, it’s at a new location and not disclosed until a couple of hours before the actual meeting. Today, it’s being held in an old, abandoned warehouse on the edge of Brooklyn near the docks. It takes me longer to get there than I would’ve liked, but what can I do? Traffic in NYC sucks and isn’t for the faint of heart.
Parking my Hellcat, I turn her off and look around the parking lot. I see a lot of fancy, expensive cars, including the midnight blue Jaguar that I know belongs to Enzo Rossi. It’s parked right in front of the door, not even in a spot. Squeezing my thighs together, I pull down the visor, check my appearance in the mirror and quickly apply some more lip gloss.
I’m excited to see Enzo. But I also need to remain professional in this meeting and pay better attention than I did last week. Being taken seriously is important to me. Much more important than flirting with some man, albeit a hot as hell man, who’s sitting across the table from me.
I get out of my car, lock it and walk up to the door where two huge, burly enforcers stand guard. They nod, knowing exactly who I am, and one of them opens the door for me. I slip past them, lift my chin and walk confidently over to the large, round table where representatives from each of the five mafia families in NYC are starting to sit down. A quick glance at my watch tells me we’ll be starting momentarily. Right on time.
Lowering down into a seat, I look around at who’s here, hoping against hope that my cousins Tommaso and Romeo won’t be in attendance. We’re never on the same page and they love to undermine me every chance they get. Unfortunately, I spot them chatting in the corner and I stifle a sigh. They leave a bad taste in my mouth and I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair, not wanting to deal with them.
The Five Families are made up of The Rossi’s, The Bianchi’s, The DeLuca’s, The Caparelli’s and The Milano’s. But, it’s clear to me that Miceli Rossi is the one in charge. Not long ago, he got into some pretty big trouble with the table and almost got banned. He killed my cousin Rocco, but for good reason—for stealing his wife. Even so, people were pissed and ready to kick Miceli to the curb. I was the deciding vote and I decided he wasn’t going anywhere. I guess you could say Miceli owes me, and I’ve tucked that little ace up my sleeve for later.
There are five Rossi siblings in total, but Miceli isn’t the one who interests me. My gaze drifts over to Enzo who’s walking over, surrounded by his brothers. Mmm, that man can wear a suit like no other. I’m in serious danger of drooling. His dark eyes meet mine and his mouth edges up ever so slightly as he sits down across from me. I hold his gaze, slow blink, then turn my attention to Miceli who begins the meeting.
Technically, we’re all enemies, always trying to encroach on each other’s territories and businesses. Supposedly, our grandfathers made a verbal agreement forever ago to stick to our own areas, but that’s done. Miceli and his brothers suggested it would be in the Five Families’ best interest to create a solid alliance. Instead of only the family heads meeting, anyone from the family is welcome to attend the clandestine meetings and vote on decisions that need to be made. It helps spread out and better balance the power, they’d said. Plus, by creating this Alliance, we’re all working together to protect each other’s best interests, rather than working against each other. I don’t know about all that, but I like the fact that I’m sitting here right now whereas before, I wasn’t allowed to be a part of the proceedings.
Plus, you know what they say. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
For the next hour, we discuss a variety of topics and I keep looking over at Enzo. And he keeps looking at me. I can’t help it. There’s a pull, an undeniable chemistry between us, and I’m not sure how to handle it. I’d love to crawl across the table, grab his lapels and yank him up for a hot kiss, but I don’t think that’s a very real possibility. But, I am imagining what it would be like to kiss him. Would he be slow and gentle? Would it be full of passion and need? I’d be willing to bet my last dollar that Enzo is a man who knows how to kiss a girl senseless. And I’ve never been kissed senseless, so consider me damn interested.
As the meeting winds down, it turns to something I’m rather passionate about—helping small businesses. But, in this case, the group is discussing raising rents in a few of the neighborhoods which I know will hurt and, most likely, shut down some of the smaller mom and pop shops. I know that I need to speak up and I do without hesitation.
“I’ve spent years working closely with growing small businesses and early-stage startups in a variety of capacities—” I begin then get rudely cut off.
“That’s great, Gabriella,” Tommaso interrupts, voice dripping with condescension, “but we don’t want to save them. We want to kick them out.” A couple of men chuckle and I grit my teeth, feeling my cheeks flame because of how he just disrespected me in front of everyone. God, I want to punch him in the face. You’d think my cousin would be on my side or at least support me, but no. He’s a giant ass of epic proportion.
“It makes no sense to keep these little businesses around when we can find new tenants who can afford to pay more each month,” Tommaso says, overruling me before I can barely get a word in edgewise. God, I want to smack him right across his smug face.
For some reason, I look across at Enzo and I see a muscle flex in his cheek. Once Tommaso finishes speaking, Enzo says, “I’d like to hear what she has to say. About small businesses.”
My heart thunders and I want to lean across the table and kiss him. Right on his beautiful lips.
I clear my throat as all eyes focus on me. “Well, the one thing I’ve learned is small business owners have one major thing in common—passion. And they’re especially passionate about what they’re building and trying to grow. Instead of shutting them down, I suggest we help them succeed which, in turn, is good for the neighborhood.”
My attention flickers over to Miceli. “Go on,” he encourages.
Feeling a surge of confidence, I continue, “Compared to large enterprises or established large businesses, small businesses and early-stage startups are at a disadvantage when it comes to growing and scaling. It may be easy to start a new business, but keeping one running is not. Nearly one in five fails within the first year. By the fifth year, fifty percent of small businesses fail.”
Beside me, Romeo yawns loudly and I do my best to ignore him. I wish I could say my cousins supported me being here, but they don’t at all.
“And how would we help them?” Enzo asks, locking eyes with me.
“Well, there are plenty of reasons why businesses fail, but both financing hurdles and marketing mistakes are pretty high up on the list. In order to achieve growth, small businesses need the same things larger corporations have—most importantly, access to data and financial capital and revenue.”
“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but what you’re suggesting is we help these small businesses become successful and then raise their rent?” Enzo asks, dark eyes twinkling.
“Exactly,” I say and smile at him. “Otherwise, they won’t be able to afford the higher rent and, most likely, the building will wind up vacant. Then nobody is getting paid.”
Several heads nod and I sit up a little taller, my chest puffing out slightly. They’re actually listening to me and it feels really good.
“Thank you for your insight,” Miceli says. “I suggest everyone think it over and we can discuss how to help the existing businesses more in depth next week.”
Oh, my God, I want to scream in excitement because, for the first time, I was heard. Feeling empowered and beyond happy, I send Enzo a grateful smile. A very grateful, and slightly sexy, smile.
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