Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Where are the others?”
“They sent representatives and made the appropriate apologies. You know how they can be. Zaza is trusted beyond a doubt, and Catania is solid. It’s these other three we need to be concerned about.”
“And Allie’s father?”
“Also in attendance. He left the sons home.”
“That’s good. We don’t need some idiot making trouble.”
Lucy glances at me. “You were young and restless once too, remember?”
“And I backed it up.” We reach the Resort’s back gate and are immediately ushered through with respectful nods from the guards.
The interior of the Resort looks like a high-end hotel. Marble floors and walls, rich tapestries and beautiful statues, priceless paintings and gorgeous mosaics. Quiet, friendly staff members keep to themselves as we stroll past, heading deeper into the building.
We don’t come across many guests. The Resort is quiet at the moment. It’s at half capacity at most, which is my preference. Lucy would pack it full every weekend if she could, but it’s better this way. The Resort needs to remain exclusive and mysterious; otherwise, the ultra-rich and extremely powerful elite members of society who come here will lose interest.
The Resort is a playground. Any pleasures imaginable can be found here. Drugs are openly used and offered. Orgies are common. Clothes are typically optional. Drug-fueled sex parties rage each night after guests gorge themselves on incredible multi-course meals.
All of this is paid for from my coffers.
I keep the best chefs, the greatest sex workers, and the most discreet staff possible. The Resort is heaven for anyone lucky enough to get invited.
Only those worth my time ever step foot through these doors.
And I absolutely hate it.
One day, I’m going to burn this place to the ground. I’m going to personally kill each and every single man and woman in this place, and I’m going to laugh as fire consumes millions of dollars’ worth of priceless art and artifacts. I don’t care if the inferno rages across my entire island.
I can’t wait to destroy everything about the Resort.
For now, it’s still useful as a way to curry favor and solidify alliances.
Lucy takes me to one of the high-end conference rooms we keep for meetings like this one. We pause outside before entering. “Salvator Pasutto, Michele Licciardi, and Raffa Trentino are waiting inside from the Five Families. The Pasuttos are most likely our biggest problem, but don’t write off the Licciardis or the Trentinos. Allie’s father, Francesco, is with them, but he’s of no importance.”
I nod absently, thinking about the dense web of business and familial relationships binding all these people together. The Five Families have been running the NYC underworld for generations. Their connection back to the old world remains solid. I’ve been friendly with them since my rise from absolutely nothing, though only Zaza and Catania have truly been mine. The others are more difficult to pin down. They’ve married, intermarried, fallen out, gone to war, and reestablished alliances so many times it’s impossible to say if any of them understand the concept of loyalty.
We enter the conference room. It’s warm and comfortable. The four men are sitting around a long table smoking cigars and drinking from crystal tumblers. Several women working for the Resort are there chatting, laughing, and flirting. They’re all beautiful and very good at pretending they give a damn about the men they’re assigned to seduce. The moment I enter the room, the women all discreetly say goodbye and leave without a backward glance.
“You didn’t have to chase the birds away, Massimo,” Salvator Pasutto says. He’s a big man in his sixties with thinning black dyed hair and bright eyes. He’s clever, vain, and sadistic. I never liked him, though I don’t really like anyone. He’s the Don of the Pasutto Famiglia and always a problem when he comes to the Resort.
“No doubt at least one of my employees would have a slit throat by now if you were left alone with them.” I give him an unamused stare, and the big man only laughs at my insult.
“You don’t give me enough credit. I’d slit a bird’s throat in front of these sleazebags without a second thought.”
“It’s true,” Raffa Trentino confirms. “I watched him strangle a man one time because he forgot to bring an extra side of pizza sauce. Can you fuckin’ imagine that?” He laughs loudly. The Don of the Trentino Outfit’s in his fifties, thin and muscular, with dark slicked-back hair and a mouth full of fake white teeth.
“I believe what my associates mean to say is thank you for your hospitality, Don Cardone.” Michele Licciardi sits back in his chair, puffing on a cigar. He watches me with a shrewd frown. All of these men are dangerous, but Licciardi might be the worst of the bunch. He looks like a lounge singer in his mid-sixties and kills like humans are nothing more than bags of trash.