Nic’s Pov The New Recruit

NIC’S POV THE NEW RECRUIT

Another day, another snowstorm. Winter in Chicago was always bitter, but this one was more violent than most. Grabbing a fresh espresso, I stood at the window of my penthouse on North Michigan Avenue, listening to the wind howl.

Music to my ears.

Ordinarily, this was my favourite kind of weather.

Today, it meant the job was off.

The entire port would be frozen over. No shipments coming in or out, no trap to be laid, no ambush to execute. Which meant the Madden Mob would live to deal another day.

I had just taken the last sip of my espresso when the door to my office swung open. I turned around, taking a full-on snowball right in the face.

I released a colourful string of curses as Gino’s guffaw filled up the room.

Glaring at him, I wiped the melting snow off my face. ‘How did you even get that snowball up here in one piece? We’re on the seventieth floor.’

‘Sprinted,’ said Gino, proudly. ‘Got Aldo to hold the lift for me.’

Briefly, I considered flinging my espresso cup at him. ‘Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood,’ I said, setting it down instead.

Brother or not, it was never advisable to strike the boss. With bullets or snowballs.

‘I actually came here to cheer you up.’ Gino flopped down on the couch, kicking his expensive boots up on my more expensive coffee table. ‘I know you wanted to kill some Maddens today.’

‘There’ll be other days. Other Maddens.’ I waved my hand around. Ours was a fast, violent life, but even the most hard-ened assassins of Chicago had to answer to its bad weather. Sometimes, you have to know when you’re beat. ‘You can have the day off.’

Gino hmm’d. ‘Greta and the girls are watching Frozen later if you want to join. I promised I’d make them snow-cones.’ A sigh, then. ‘I do not know how to make a snow-cone.’

I stared at Gino. My beloved brother, who was always utterly and unashamedly himself. Goofy and lethal, kind yet vengeful. My stalwart best friend. The only one who had survived the yacht massacre five years ago. That night we lost our mother and our brother, Domenico. Valentino had been clipped a couple of months before. We lost Luca, too. Not to death, but to another life.

Another world.

One that did not welcome us.

One that had never appealed to me anyway.

I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

As much as I loved Gino, I didn’t want to spend my day making snow-cones and watching kids’ movies with him and Paulie’s girls. I had shit to do. An outfit to run.

A Mafia boss rarely rested, even on snow-swept days like this. ‘I’m busy. The newest Di Salvo capo is coming by later. Frankie. I’m interviewing him for a position in the family. He wants to relocate from New York.’

‘Huh,’ said Gino, who was now scrolling through his phone. ‘Sounds boring.’

And that was exactly why Gino Falcone was not my underboss. Paulie had been the better choice at the time, the better choice now. The responsibility would have been too much for Gino, it would have sucked the fun right out of him.

‘The Di Salvos are our allies,’ I reminded him. They had been for years, but even more so in recent times, when our family had been all but decimated. Massimo Di Salvo was a young ambitious boss a few years older than me. With his help, we were able to bolster our numbers after the New Year’s Eve massacre, and wipe out the last of the Marinos for good. Not only were the Di Salvos our friends, but they provided a firm foothold in New York. Which meant more opportunity. More money. More fun.

I sat down on the opposite couch, one eye on the coffee machine in the corner of the room. Was six espressos before noon too much? The heavy snowfall was making me sleepy, the windows all but frosted over now. Even the best view in Chicago couldn’t contend with the snow. Maybe I should take the rest of the day off. Take a nap, order a deep-dish pizza, play video games with Sal.

Gino was still scrolling through his phone, probably checking in on all his dating apps.

I took out my own, looking through my emails.

‘Do you remember Millie Parker?’ Gino’s voice cut through the silence.

I looked up at him. ‘What?’

‘Millie,’ he said. ‘Sophie’s best friend.’

Sophie. The woman my brother had forsaken his family for. The woman I had fallen for as a starry-eyed teenager, when life was soft and simple, and responsibility – true responsibility – was a faraway concept to me. I thought of Sophie now whenever I thought of Luca. Although the old anger and frustrations I once felt had faded into a mild curiosity. Sometimes I wondered where they’d gone, after that day I saw them by the Oriental theatre five years ago.

Were they happy?

Were they still together?

Had it all been worth it in the end?

‘I remember Millie,’ I said, conjuring a memory of Sophie’s best friend. Brown hair, shiny silver braces. Endearingly annoying. ‘Hard to forget that one.’

Gino nodded. ‘I’m on her Instagram.’

I frowned. ‘How? Why ?’

‘It’s how I check in,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘Sometimes Sophie’s on there. And Luca. Though you know what our pretty boy is like. Camera shy.’

‘Since when have you been keeping tabs on Luca?’ I said, sitting straighter now.

‘Since always,’ said Gino. ‘He’s my brother.’

‘He wanted out of this life,’ I reminded him.

‘He’s still my brother.’

‘Why have you never told me this?’ I said, with a prickle of unease. This was not a feeling I was used to – being caught on the backfoot.

‘Do you care?’ he said, genuinely curious.

I thought about it, the truth surprising me. ‘He’s still my brother.’

‘You were so angry at him.’

‘That was a long time ago,’ I said. ‘I’ve evolved.’

Gino hmm’d.

There was a stretch of silence.

He was baiting me. Little shit.

I took the bait. ‘So, what about Millie?’

‘She’s in California right now. With Sophie. They’re frolicking on the beach to Phil Collins.’

‘OK…’

‘Sophie’s engaged.’

Oh.

Right.

‘To Luca,’ Gino supplied.

‘Yeah, I got that.’

They’re engaged.

My brain grinded to a halt. I stood up, needing to pace. Then went to the window, where the world was white and hazy. I pressed my hands against it. Why was my heart beating so fast? Because they were happy, and alive, and still together? Because they were engaged, and I might never have known about it? Because in the end, Luca’s sacrifice had been worth it, after all?

Because we were the sacrifice, and not the reward?

‘It’s good,’ Gino said from behind me. ‘It’s a good thing.’

‘I know,’ I said, and I meant it.

I turned around.

Gino’s brows shot up. ‘You’re smiling.’

‘I’m happy for Luca,’ I said, and that was true too. I was happy for my brother. I was happy for Sophie. ‘He made it count. They both did.’

Gino grinned. ‘Do you think we’ll be invited to the wedding?’

I almost laughed. ‘No, Gino. I don’t think so.’

‘We could still rock up.’

‘Millie would knock you out.’

‘Maybe,’ he said, fondly.

I snorted at the image. Why was it so easy to picture?

‘Should we send a congratulations gift? A fruit basket? An ice sculpture? A giant envelope of cash?’

I thought about it for a long moment. It was a nice idea, in theory, to send a show of our support from halfway across the country, something that said,

We’re happy for you.

We always wanted you to be happy.

But the truth was, it would unsettle them. As long as our lives were pledged to the mob – living and breathing the violence of the world our brother had left behind – any gift from us, no matter how expensive or beautiful or benign, would set him on edge.

It would ruin this moment for them.

‘No,’ I said, quieter now. ‘The best thing we can do for Luca and Sophie is keep our distance. Give them that peace of mind.’

Gino nodded, glumly. ‘I really wanted to meet their dog.’

‘You have three dogs of your own. And a chinchilla. Which I still think is weird as hell, by the way.’

‘Yeah.’ His face brightened. He rolled to his feet. ‘Speaking of, I better go feed Chubs.’

I waved him off, then returned to my desk. My eyes glazed and my thoughts turned to California, to sparkling rings and faraway weddings. To love. A thing that had eluded me for years. Not that I had been searching for it – or even prioritizing it – with an entire Mafia outfit to run. But now, at last, everything was calmer, more efficient. The Falcones were back, and we were untouchable again.

I was damn good at my job.

I was my father’s son. His legacy.

And it was that more than anything that made me happy.

My phone rang: Paulie.

I swiped the screen.

‘Di Salvo’s here,’ he said, a note of amusement in his voice.

He was early, despite the snowstorm.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Send him up.’

‘Good luck, Boss.’

A low chuckle, then the line went dead. I spun in my chair, waiting. The penthouse was spread across three floors, and my office was at the very top. Only the best for official Falcone business. The other floors housed six bedrooms and bathrooms, two reception rooms, a movie theatre, a sprawling kitchen and dining room, and a wraparound balcony. This place was always full of family members, coming and going, snacking. Napping. Debriefing. Gino kept a room on the first floor, Sal and Aldo often staying the night after a long day at work.

While I waited for the elevator to deliver me the newest Di Salvo recruit, I went to the coffee maker to brew another espresso. It whirred in the silence, muffling the sound of the door closing behind me.

‘Um, hello?’ came an unexpected voice.

I turned to find a woman standing in the doorway. Young – maybe early twenties – with olive skin and wide hazel eyes. She was so impossibly beautiful, I had to blink three times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Her long dark hair was braided away from her face, her full lips quirked on the edge of a smile.

She offered an awkward wave. ‘It’s Frankie. Don’t look so startled. I swear I come in peace.’

I blinked again, clearing my throat. ‘Frankie. Frankie . Oh. I thought you were—’

‘Francesca Di Salvo,’ she said, her smile growing. ‘I’m Massimo’s sister. Your new capo.’

‘Francesca,’ I said, grinning like an idiot. I stuck my hand out. ‘Welcome to the family.’