 by Jordan Marie.jpg)
Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
*Please note this book is available at a special preorder price. The price will increase upon release.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Niko
Five Years Ago
“You’ve impressed me, Niko.”
I look up at the man who has become like a father to me. Maxwell Korslova. For ten years, he has taken me under his wing, molded me, and helped me rise within the DeLuca family. Korslova is the Consigliere to Antonio DeLuca. DeLuca is the head of the family and one of the most powerful men in the Italian American mafia at the moment.
Which means this meeting is one of the most important I’ve ever had.
“I appreciate that, Mr. Korslova.”
“Come now, Niko. I’ve told you when we are alone you call me Maxwell.”
“I’ll remember,” I respond. The man probably has no idea how much he means to me. I never had a father, everything I have I’ve fought tooth and nail for. Yet, the opportunities I’ve had are all because of the man sitting across from me.
“I’ve arranged a meeting for you, Niko. Tomorrow you and I will be having dinner with DeLuca to discuss your future in the family.”
I frown. I don’t think Maxwell would have me removed. Still, his loyalty is owed to DeLuca and probably to his nephew… Dante Russo. Dante is a soldier in the family, just like I am. He’s pissed because I keep getting more responsibility placed on my shoulders. He feels that as Maxwell’s family he should be the most favored. Dante has shit for brains. I wouldn’t put him in charge of waxing my car. He has no work ethic and wants everything handed to him on a silver platter. He's an entitled little boy who likes to pretend he’s a man. I wouldn’t put anything past him. He’s a snake in the grass, ready to strike, and bite you in the ass. He’s not brave enough to face you. I never let myself forget that when I’m dealing with him.
“Mr. Kor—” I stop when he shakes his head no at me. I clear my throat. “Maxwell, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’ve tried to show that through the work I do with the family. No matter what task I’m given I always try to provide results above what is expected.”
“You don’t think I know that?” he responds, and damn if he doesn’t sound upset that I would doubt him.
“I—”
“The fact that you were able to get the union president on board with this latest deal impressed DeLuca so much that he’s considering offering you the position that was left vacant when Gio died.”
I frown thinking back to the man who I reported to for the last ten years. Giovanni Russo was what we refer to as a Capo or Caporegime. He was a good man. His death rocked us all. Hell, being part of the family is dangerous. We all know the risk. It’s not so much Gio’s death, but the way he died—someone tied weights around him and shoved his body into a sewage reservoir. He drowned in fifteen feet of raw sewage. He was our Don’s brother-in-law and respected by all the family. The only bad thing anyone ever had to say about Gio was the fact that Dante was his son. I doubt DeLuca would have let Dante have a position if it wasn’t out of respect for Gio. There are rumblings that Dante is making it known he wants his father’s position and is going to make it his mission to find out who killed his father.
I’m not fucking reporting to Dante. There’s no way in hell. DeLuca can either move me somewhere else, or I’ll do like Maxwell Korslova and cross a line. He left behind the Russians and proved his loyalty to DeLuca. Like Maxwell, my loyalty is not for sale. Yet, if none is shown to me, I will cut ties without a thought.
“I thought that position would go to his nephew,” I respond, pulling my thoughts back to the here and now.
“DeLuca barely tolerates Dante. I don’t think that will be an issue.” I refuse to acknowledge the relief his words bring me, but it’s there just the same. “This could be your chance, but if you do move forward...”
“I know the saying,” I confide. “For every step you make forward, you must watch your back twice as much.”
“It’s the damn truth,” Maxwell laughs. “So, tomorrow night, dinner at my home. I don’t think I need to tell you to be punctual, son.”
“No, sir, you do not.”
“You’re never going to call me Maxwell, are you?” he chastises.
“Not easily. I owe you too much,” I answer with honesty that only he deserves.
“My Isabelle was only able to give me Emilia before her death. My daughter is perfection and the spitting image of her mother.”
“I’m sure she’s very beautiful,” I murmur, mostly because it sounds like what I should say. For me, women tend to have only one use, but I doubt Maxwell would appreciate me saying that when it comes to his daughter.