180

It’s a month later.

A lot has happened.

I knew that I would take back what was mine…I just didn’t know that Vincent Bernardo would submit so absolutely. It came as a shock to everyone at that breakfast table.

I remember hearing him say the words,‘I hereby cede leadership of this family to you,’and thinking—Huh? What the fuck?

I was sure that I was going to have to turn his sons against him and oust him by force.

I’ve retained his services though—He’s not dead.I still have much to learn aboutour thingand our various businesses.

I could probably manage with Antonio, Christian and Daniel alone, but…I didn’t want my first act as Donna to turnthemagainst me.

Vincent did the right thing. What kind of leader would I be if I rewarded him for his actions with death?

I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it—he’s the reason my family is dead—but maybe he’s right…sometimes for the greater good, compromises need to be made.

Dying a warrior’s death seems like a far more noble way to leave this world than living to be hundred-and-two, losing your fucking marbles, being bedridden and shitting yourself twice a day.

I’m going to make sure Vincent lives a long, long time. His guilt will be his torture—so will making sure the nurse only visits him once every two days.

He’ll get to see first-hand, where I take this family and what it becomes. His sons will take my name…and the Lombardos will rise again.

My days have been filled to the brim since taking the helm. We’ve not announced anything yet to the other families, but we will soon. Today, in fact.

Joshua de Soto has been champing at the bit…eager to see how things will play out, but we’ve said nothing. Don Cassaduchi has been holding him back.They’re waiting for us to make the first move.

Getting ready has been a long process. Antonio told me you rule not just by giving orders, you rule by strength. You can’t ask someone to do something you aren’t willing to do—or haven’t already done—yourself.

To that end, I’ve been getting a crash course in several aspects of combat, business and economics. The brothers have been my tutors.

Every morning, I run four miles before breakfast, then I spend time learning about our illegal enterprises—illegal by the government’s definition…not ours.

I train in hand to hand, fencing, archery, pistols, knives and everything else my capos come up with. I’ve come to favor Katanas in particular—There’s just something about Japanese steel.

It’s a grueling schedule, but all worth it because I always have someone to warm my bed and I never go to sleep hungry.

What queen can say she has three men who fuck like kings and satisfy her every need?

It’s hard to put the whole thing into words. It’s not aconventionalarrangement by any means…but what about any of this is conventional?

I’ve never had so much—and suchgreat—sex in all my life!

I can have my pick of Antonio, Christian or Daniel anywayI want and anytimeI want.

Being the boss certainly has its perks!

It’s a great stress reliever to be supplied with a constant stream of orgasms because,you know…all work and no play…

Stress relief has definitely been vital because today is a very important day—We’ve been working toward it since that breakfast in the garden one month ago.

Today…we’re having asit-down.We’re in the car headed there right now.

Vincent reached out to the third family in New York—The Torrio family—and they’ve been kind enough to host a meeting between us and the Cassian on neutral ground.

This is the way it has to be, because if we’d called asit-downand gone to the Cassian one on one, there’d be no guarantee that we’d walk out of the meeting alive.

They sure as hell weren’t going to come to us after what happened atBuono Fortuna, because in their minds, we’re the ones who needed to make things right with them, not the other way around.

The Torrios are on good terms with us and the Cassian because they’re the youngest of the families and none of their businesses intersect with either of ours.

Antonio told me that the Torrios will search everyone as they enter the building to make sure no one has any weapons. They’ll provide refreshments and armed guards as well.

I asked why we shouldn’t be afraid that they’ll kill both us and the Cassian and take all of New York for themselves…to which Antonio said, “That’s why Christina and Daniel are staying home.”

It made sense.

They’d have their own war and be fighting on two fronts.That’s not good for health.

It’s late at night and there’s no moon. We get to what looks like an isolated, abandoned factory somewhere on Long Island and I turn to Antonio in the confines of the Escalade, “Someone could empty six AK-47s into us right now and no one would hear a thing.”

“It’s to avoid the feds,” he strokes my thigh, “that’s why the Torrios only gave us the location an hour ago. No one has time to scout it out in advance—not us, the cops, the feds or the Cassian.”

I look at Vincent and he gives me a nod.

A metal roller door opens in front of us. When it’s halfway up, I see that it’s being hoisted by a big goombah I don’t know. Christina taught me that word—Goombah.It’s an associate member of a criminal gang.

When the door is all the way up, he salutes us and our driver/bodyguard takes us in. His name is Phil. In the passenger seat is another bit of muscle named Bobby.

I see another two cars parked ahead of us. Phil maneuvers us all the way to the left so we’re all parked next to each other.

I nudge Antonio to get out of the car, but he squeezes my hand and whispers, “They’ll come to us.”

We unlock the doors and wait. Seconds later, the goombah opens the door and Antonio greets him, “Al.”

“Antonio.”

Antonio steps out and Al pats him down. I follow and get the same treatment, so do Vincent, Phil and Bobby.

Phil and Bobby wait in the car while the three of us follow Al to a trestle in the middle of the dimly lit factory floor. There are ten chairs, four on either side and one at each end.

The only man I recognize is Joshua de Soto, he’s sitting between an older man and a younger one. I’m guessing the old fart in the wheelchair with two strands of hair on his head and the oxygen mask is Don Cassaduchi.

The guy at the head of the table stands and comes to greet us.

“Don Bernardo,” he kisses Vincent on both cheeks and hugs him. He’s dressed in a tan suit that looks like it cost more than a mid-range sedan. He’s got a full head of dark hair with silver wings.

“Don Torrio,” Vincent says, “you know my son, Antonio.”

Antonio goes through the ritual with him.

“And this,” Vincent steps back and presents me, “is Donna Chelsea Lombardo.”

He’s been briefed on the situation and my existence comes as no surprise to him. “Donna Lombardo,” he gently takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, “it’s an honor to finally meet you. I was a friend to your father. I hope we can be friends as well.”

I smile graciously, “I would like that.”

He turns and escorts us to the table.

When de Soto lays eyes on me, he slams his hand on the table and stands so fast, his chair flies back, “This is bullshit! How the hell do we know that’s really her? Huh? She could be anybody!” He puts his hand on the man with the oxygen mask, “This whole thing is a ruse, Michael!”

Don Michael Cassaduchi grabs Joshua’s hand. He pulls him down and takes off his mask at the same time—with much more vigor than you’d expect—saying, “Sit the fuck down!” with the amount of gravel in his throat that only years of smoking can give you.

Josh snorts out a breath and does as he’s told.

Don Torrio offers us the seats across from the Cassian with a gesture and says, “Please, help yourselves to any refreshments,” then goes to his place at the head and sits.

Before we take our seats, Antonio whispers to me, “That’s Leo Abruzzi, he’s a friend.”

I nod and as we sit, I watch the Cassian bore holes through me with their stares.

“I’m sure no introductions are necessary,” Don Torrio looks to both sides and everyone nods.

Josh slowly points at me, “Might not be such a bad idea, maybe she could tell us who shereally is.”

“Enough with that,” old man Cassaduchi grates out, “you can see!” He coughs three times like he’s going to spew out his lungs, takes a hit of his oxygen, then points at me shakily, “It’s in the face. It’s her.”

“Well,” I give him a smile, “if we’re done discussing my genetic makeup, let’s get down to brass tacks.”

“Let’s,” agrees Don Torrio

Don Cassaduchi puts his hand out for me to continue.

“Vincent has something he’d like you all to know.”

Leo Abruzzi, the guys who looks like a short, wide tank, points and nods at me like I’m in school, “You meanDonVincentBernardo.”

“No,” Vincent says putting his hand up at Leo, “no longer. We’re here to tell you that after my brief stewardship of this family, leadership has been passed to the rightful heir, Donna Chelsea Lombardo. I am now her consiglieri. My sons are her captains.”

“What the fuck is this? Fuckin Star Trek?” Josh stands again, “I’m all for progress, Michael, buta woman boss? She’s not even—”

Don Torrio stands with his hands out, “Josh.”

Don Cassaduchi puts his hand on Josh once more, “JOSH!”

De Soto reins back, but we lock eyes and never break the hateful gaze.

Don Cassaduchi takes three breaths from his oxygen, then looks at everyone at the table and rasps, “Would everyone mind giving us…some,” he takes oxygen again, “room to speak in private? Boss to boss?”

Don Torrio stands, “Of course, Michael.” Then he says to everyone else, “There’s a bottle of scotch just over there, how about we wet our whistles gentleman?”

Antonio squeezes my shoulder, so does Vincent. They file out with Josh, Leo and Don Torrio leading the way.

The guards are far enough away in the corners that they can’t hear anything.

When we’re both sure everyone is out of earshot, Don Cassaduchi takes a few more breaths from his oxygen.

He looks like dead shit. I have no idea how old he is, but I think some garlic and few well-placed crucifixes would send him to his grave.

He slowly leaves the mask on his chest and gasps, “You hate me, don’t you?”

“Hate is such a strong word, Don Cassaduchi. I don’t know you well enough to hate you. I hate what youdid, that goes without saying, but the more I become acquainted withmyfamily’s enterprises, the more I realize we shouldn’t let emotions rule us. It’s bad for business. It’s best to keep a cool head.”

I should get a fucking Oscar for my performance.

I go on, “Something Mr. de Soto seems incapable of at the moment, don’t you think?”

He nods pensively. “You are your father’s daughter,” he says, then pauses…maybe to gauge what I’m thinking. I’ve got him on the back foot now, I know it.

He breathes his oxygen again, “So, Donna Chelsea Lombardo, you didn’t call thissit-downto…”he coughs anduses his mask, “announce your arrival. You’re no debutant. You already have a third of this city carved,”cough, cough, cough,“out for you.”He takestwo long hits of oxygen. “You have other things on your mind, yes?”

“Indeed, I do.”

He breathes through his mask…two breaths. “What are they?”

Hmm…

He coughs in a fit and one of the guards move toward him to help, but he puts his hand up in a—stop—kind of motion, then puts a handkerchief to his mouth, ejecting red and yellow. I don’t know if it’s puss or phlegm.

Fucking gross.

“If you seek an old man’s death, I assure you, I’m nearly there.”

Oh…I’m still going to kill you, you disgusting old prick.I’ll makesureI kill you before you die.“The lines must be redrawn, I want them back the way they were when my father was boss.”

He shakes his head—No.“Arrangements were made that cannot be undone.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I was asking. Allow me to explain—You made those arrangements with Vincent. They weren’t valid. You’re dealing with me now. I’ve told you what’s going to happen. How you choose to deal with it is up to you.”

The look he gives me is like he’s scared and trying to hide it. “This family sees four-million-dollars a year from that business.Yourfamily sees fifteen-percent of that. You’re willing to make your own pocket lighter for this?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise, Don Cassaduchi.”

He stares at me for a long time, wearing a frown, the wheels in his head turning, then says, “It cannot be done. I think you know this. I think this is why you are asking for it.”

“I told you before—I’m not asking.”

“Maybe I can come up with a number that would put this unpleasantness to bed?”

“I said no to six-hundred-thousand-dollars a year and you think there’s a number?”

He takes some oxygen before he tries again. “I can offer you de Soto’s head for things to stay as they are.”He’s just showed his hand.All he cares about is money. He has no honor.

“I have a counter offer,” I smile politely.

“Yeah?”

“I take his head anyway, as is my right to do so for the murder of my family…and then I take yours…and then I draw the lines my way.”

An eternity passes with him staring me down, but I don’t flinch. I hold his gaze and he’s the one who blinks first. He raises his hand to signal everyone behind me and says, “This meeting is over.”