CHAPTER FIFTHTEEN

—Jax—

 

The woman infuriated me. I wanted to bend her over my knee and spank her; teach her a lesson. I wanted to fuck her until she never back talked me again. Bella is a strong woman; I knew I had my hands full the moment I’d agreed to marry her.

“Moretti.” Tito approached. Someone gave this dumb bastard the nickname Tombstone because he hand carved his name into the headstones of the men he’d killed. Dumb as fuck. That was years ago and honestly, I didn’t think he cared for that name anymore. Old bastard.  “Welcome to my home, Isabella. Your father was a good man, a respected man.” He watched Bella with lust. I nearly wrapped my hands around his throat, but instead, I gripped her hand tight. I didn’t want anyone to look at her that way… or anyway.

“Yes, it’s good to see you again.” Bella was perfection. Her beauty was classically endless. I caught myself staring, but I wouldn't let that happen again. I needed to be careful where she was concerned. Or rather, she should be careful where I was concerned. Some more bullshit was said, but I didn’t listen to any of it, all of it was only a formality. I hated these fucking things, honestly.

Tito remained close as we walked to the basement of his overly priced mansion. Mickie was steps away ready to give his life for mine. I trusted only a few men: Mickie, Dominic, and Tommy—Bella’s protection. If I didn’t trust them, they’d be nowhere near her. The hallway was dark, and when we rounded the corridor the metal door glowed under the heavy light. The next time I’d walk through this door I would be head of this family. I would be the boss of bosses.

All of the men once under Anthony Sagatori followed in their expensive tailor-made suits, shiny shoes, slicked back hair. Each of them wanted this spot. The one that wanted it most was three steps ahead of me. Salvatore Casconi. He wanted to call the shots and sit on the thrown of power. But the power was mine. He'd also wanted my wife for himself, but she was mine as well; he wouldn't have her again. I'd put a bullet in his fucking head if he ever tried.

We entered one by one through the metal door. I saw the large oval table with twelve chairs surrounding it. I’d be at the head of this table tonight. I’d be calling the shots.

The men circled the table sitting in the leather chairs with flat, unreadable faces.

Tito gestured for me to sit at the head of the table furthest away from the door. I sat, tucked myself in, and peered over my shoulder giving a knowing nod to Mickie who stood to my left near the wall. He had a perfect shot if anyone tried anything tonight. He was supposed to give up his gun at the door, but let’s just say we angled around that.

Roberto Chenneli sat to my left, he would be my successor as boss for the Chicago outfit. Roberto was mid-thirties, brown hair, tall, thin. He was mean and took nothing from no one. Exactly what Chicago needed. Cesare Tarintino sat just past Roberto. Cesare was the boss for New York; this guy was pushing eighty… he’d been around a long time. His skin was dark, and it covered the large round age spots on his face and hands, and thick gray hair topped. His head.

Bernardo Campanni, the boss for Vegas sat next to Elido Pappalardo, and the boss for New Jersey was next. Renaldo Asati sat at the end of the table. He was consigliere for Anthony Sagatori, and I’d also select him to remain as such. Tito Toscano sat opposite of myself. Tito had been the underboss for the Sagatori crime family and I’d select him to remain as well. Anthony Russo rested smug in a dark hand-stitched Italian suit. This guy was the boss for Atlanta. Alfio Consentino, boss for Philadelphia, came next. He adjusted himself uncomfortably in his chair, weighing in at around four-hundred pounds with a balding head. And next we had Salvatore Casconi, now boss for Detroit. Smug was an understatement. Sam also wore a well-fitted hand-stitched suite, crimson trinity knot, well-folded handkerchief in his jacket, dark curly hair slicked back across the top of his head, and two large diamond rings on his fingers.  His eyes never left mine, that I saw. He wanted this position, and I figured he’d be trying to take it tonight.

Ugo Mancuso was next at the oval table, he was the boss for Boston. The only thing people noticed about Ugo was the large, ugly scar on his left cheek and the massive diamond rings on his fingers. Each ring held a diamond for every kill he’d made. Last was Albert Cavalano, the boss for Los Angeles. He was the only man at this table I hadn’t met before. He typically didn’t travel too far from L.A. Cavalano wore dark, round glasses that were a little too large for his oval face. No jewelry. He had that L.A. look, though. Fashionable and shit.

“We come here tonight to announce Jax Moretti as head of this family. This was decided by Anthony Sagatori before his passing.” All heads in the room including myself made the sign of the cross. “Are there any objections?” All of the men but one shook their head and fumbled with their ties or whatever was sitting in front of them.

“No,” echoed throughout the room from all but one man. Casconi; he would object.

My eyes met his as I adjusted my tie. “You got an objection?” I asked him.

His response was slow as he twisted a gold metal lighter between his fingers. “Yeah, I got an objection.” He leaned forward on the table addressing the other men. “Sagatori is gone, we don’t have to listen to him anymore. We can do what the fuck we want.” He shrugged in his seat. My eyes roamed along watching the other men's responses. Some men nodded while others shook their heads.

“You come here and insult Anthony Sagatori on this day?” Cesare spoke. He had no fear of Casconi. “You think you have what it takes to run this family?” His eyes narrowed. “Because you have a few men under you? You think you can do what Sagatori knew Moretti could do?”

“Yeah I have to agree. I have the Bratva picking at every business I run. We need leadership right now.” The Russian mob was at everyone’s door lately.

“They think we’re weak ‘cause Sagatori’s gone. I got ‘em at my fuckin’ backyard every five fuckin’ minutes.” Several of the men agreed.

“Yeah,” bounced around the room as the men responded to Cesare.

I remained quiet.

“Take a vote,” Casconi growled.

“A vote? We haven’t done that shit since the fifties.

“So, do it now,” he demanded with a shrug.

“Why not?” I grinned with the left side of my lip curled up.

The men shrugged in their chairs as they made eyes at each other.

Tito watched me as he spoke. “So we vote, who votes Casconi in as boss?” Casconi was the only son of a bitch that raised his hand. The other men watched the walls or the floor. “Moretti?” All hands raised in silence except Casconi’s. “Are we finished with this bullshit?” Tito asked Casconi.

Casconi slammed his fist on the wooden table. No one jumped or reacted. Salvatore Casconi was an explosion waiting to happen, and I didn’t need him running anything under me.

With the FBI barking at Bella’s doorstep which also meant they were barking at mine, not everyone was able to be here. Anyone that was a felon had to stay away.

“Boss, you need to select your consigliere.”

I nodded.

“Renaldo Asati, I will keep you as my consigliere,” I announced.

Renaldo tipped his head. “It’s an honor, boss.”

“It’s decided Renaldo Asati will sit as consigliere. Boss, who do you take as your underboss?”

“Tito Toscano,” I said without hesitation. Anthony had specifically asked that I do this and for him, I would.

He made eyes with me, then he sought out the rest of the table. “It’s decided; I will sit as underboss for this family. Thank you, boss.” A respectful nod of his head was given. “Now onto other business. The Bratva are becoming a thorn in our sides. Our businesses are suffering across the board.”

“New York is taking a beatin’,” Cesare grumbled.

I nodded. I knew their concerns because they were my own. “We will send a message that can’t be ignored.”

“Boss?” Cesare asked, “Orlov is known for retaliation and goes for the wives and children first, what do we do?”

“So we take the eagle by his wings. Clip ‘em, all of ‘em.”

“Boss?” Cesare made eyes then the rest of the men followed with knowing nods and grumbles.

“A war?” Casconi hissed. “You want a war with the Russians?”

“Are you doubtin’ my authority?”

“No boss, just your orders.” In a crime family, it’s simple. There are roles. I’m the head of the familia. They call me the boss of bosses, not over the entire Mafioso just this family. My right hand is the consigliere, he’s the man I go to much like a chief advisor; well, in fact, that is exactly what he is. He’s my closest confidant in this family. Then there’s the underboss, and he ranks below the boss which in this case is me. The Capos rank beneath him and will answer to him directly. Next you have Soldiers that are run by the Capos. Each Capo is given reigns over ten or so.

In this scenario Casconi is calling me out, he wants to test me, see where my weaknesses lie. I have no weaknesses, however. A deep breath entered harshly fillin’ my lungs to their capacity.

“In this family, Casconi, I will not tolerate disrespect.” If you have a beef with a made man permission is needed to deal with that beef. In this case, I’m the only one who can give that okay. There's no one here to stop me from slicing his throat or breaking his neck with my bare hands. No one but me. “You come in here tonight and disrespect Sagatori, my father-in-law, God rest his soul.” Everyone made the sign of the cross and kissed their crucifixes. “Bring him to me.” Casconi isn’t worth me taking the time to stand, no he’s beneath me. His eyes bore holes into me, and I smiled. I didn’t give a fuck.

Mickie approached Casconi encouraging him to stand and then walked him to where I sat. Mickie handed over his .357 magnum revolver. No one said a word. Deep breaths were the only sounds. I sat back in the comfort of the leather chair and removed all six rounds and watched as they rolled along the table. I scooped one bullet from the shiny wood, inspected it. The gold bullet sat cradled in between the tips of my fingers then I slipped it back inside the chamber. I spun the cylinder and watched as Mickie pressed and held Casconi’s head against the table. I stood and pressed the muzzle to his head. Ironic that we were talking about the Russians at this time, considering I was playing a fun game of Russian Roulette with him. That’s the said origin of this game of course. “Now as I see it, you have a one in six chance that this gun will go off seeing as how I’ve removed all but one. Anyone see how those odds might be wrong?”

“No boss,” all answered.

“Of course, that’s only true if all chambers rest in their correct positions. Seeing as this revolver is a swing out as you all witnessed. With gravity, those odds are in your favor. Which I, of course, make it my business to know. That all changes, however; when I spin the cylinder and don’t—” I spun it again after I’d removed the muzzle from his head. I don’t let it complete its spin before stopping it. “—let it complete. Were you aware of those odds, Casconi?” I ran the muzzle flush with his temple. He didn’t respond, I knew he wouldn’t, he was proving himself. With one sleek move of my index finger, I pressed and held the trigger. A loud click sounded, no shot, though. Casconi’s body tightened causing the skin around his eyes to wrinkle. I continued with this three more times and the bastard got lucky each one. No one spoke. I was making a point and I think it was working. I removed the gun handing it back to Mickie and leaned down to his head. “I will gut you like a pig the next time you question my decisions or authority.” A harsh dark sigh resonated from his throat. I smiled with gratification that my point had been received. Casconi stood and limped back to his seat after I placed a hard connecting blow to his stomach with my fist.

The table continued with a conversation about the Bratva and what we would do to lean on ‘em. When we finished, we were led upstairs to the gathering where I’d find Bella.

***

Two days had passed since the meeting with the bosses of the family. Four of my men had been killed in Chicago and the fall out of the retaliation was reignin’ heavily in all the territories. The Bratva was out for blood. The threats were constant.

I finished with my tie, straightened my jacket, and opened the bedroom door. I stood as I watched Bella’s door, closed, quiet, no sound or movement. It was early, and I needed to fly to New York today. New York was in need of my… hand you’d say. I’d need to be spending more time there until this Bratva problem was under control which meant Dominic and Tommy would be here with Bella twenty-four-seven. If she went out they’d go with her, and if there was a problem while she was here, then they’d deal with it. I’d also have men watch the building from the streets and cameras I had installed throughout the building. I’d watch the cameras from within the penthouse. I’d have an eye on her from every room minus her bedroom and bath of course. I’d promised I’d respect her and I would. But I could only do so much from New York or any of the other cities I’d be visiting in the near future. I needed to keep a close eye on her. I held onto my suit jacket as I sauntered down the staircase entering the corridor. Alessandra was busy cooking breakfast, and the aroma of coffee and croissants wafted through my nose.

I slipped the newspaper off of the table and clasped it under my arm. The aroma filled my nose more and more the closer I was to the kitchen.

“Alessandra?” I asked watching the shine in my shoes as I walked.

“She’s at the doctors this morning so I’m taking over her tasks, I hope that’s alright. I’ve prepared your breakfast.” She shrugged. She wore an apron that said “kiss the cook” I sucked on the inside on my cheek, hiding my surprise. I’d not known that Bella was any good in the kitchen. “I hope that you approve. I really wanted to help her out this morning.” She gave a whole-hearted smile as she smoothed out the apron. She poured a cup of coffee, black, and slid it to me from the other side of the island. “Alessandra mentioned that you prefer a simple croissant each morning with your coffee, so I…”

“Opened a can?” I eyed the Pillsbury can sitting half covered on the counter near the oven.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I figured if I made it, it wouldn’t be worth eating.”

I smiled behind the white mug she had handed me. She watched from the corner of her eye as I read my paper, and I watched her when she shifted away. Her long dark hair tied into a bun, her long thin neck silky and exposed. Her small round bottom flowing with her movements as she hurried to clean the kitchen. I smiled at the innocence she exuded in that moment. The snarky bite hid away somewhere. She was pleasant to be in the same room with right then.

“Did you enjoy?” She sat next to me with a dishtowel twisted in the palm of her hand.

“Yes, very much.” I looked over my right arm where she smiled. “Thank you.” I sat the mug down. “I think it was very thoughtful of you.” She smiled. “I wanted you to know I won’t be home very much this week, but I’m sure you’ll be glad to get rid of me.”

“Oh? Where will you be?” The disappointment was not missed.

I rubbed the white cloth napkin to my lips and folded my paper. “I’ll be in New York until tomorrow and then possibly Detroit.”

“Detroit? Oh, could I join you?” She seemed hopeful.

“No,” I said flatly. “Not safe.” I didn’t look back to her.

She huffed as I walked towards the door. I caught her throwing the towel onto the counter. She would be upset, but she was safer here.

Mickie walked downstairs with the bag I’d left on the table. I followed him to the door then turned. She stood still, arms tucked into her chest as she watched me prepare to leave. I offered no apology because I had none to give.