Protection Money From the Wrong Man, Your Don

The second I answered, Bianca’s scream almost blew out my eardrum.

“You fucking hung up on me?!”

I could hear men laughing in the background, the clinking of glasses.

“My cousin is right here with me!” Bianca’s voice was hysterical with triumph. “Marco, say something to this bartender who doesn’t know his place!”

The phone was passed over.

“Kid, this is Marco,” a rough voice growled. “Get your ass to the Phantom Lounge. Now. You’re covering our tab, then you’re driving us home. Do that, and I might put you on the VIP floor.”

The VIP section?

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “And you have the authority for that, Manager Marco?”

According to family rules, the VIP section is for our most important allies. Any staff change for that area has to be approved by me.

“Authority?” Marco grunted. “Kid, you know how long I’ve been here? Five years, three months! I can make or break anyone I want in this place.”

Bianca chimed in loudly, “Yeah! That old bartender Sal, the one who was here for twenty years? He talked back to my cousin, and Marco had his legs broken and got him thrown in the warehouse!”

My smile froze.

Sal?

The air in the penthouse turned ice-cold. My blood went hot, then froze in my veins.

Sal. Salvatore Moretti. An old bartender who had served the Grimaldi family for twenty years. He’d even worked for my father.

He wasn’t the smartest, not the most capable, but he was loyal.

Last month, Vincent reported to me that old Sal had an “accident” moving liquor in the cellar. Hurt his leg. Requested a transfer to guard the warehouse himself.

I saw the report. I even signed off on it.

An “accident”?

So that’s what they called it. A loyal soldier, a veteran, getting his legs broken by some piece-of-shit manager whose name I didn’t even know. All for “talking back.”

In my territory.

This wasn't just some manager pulling rank. This was spitting on the Grimaldi name. Poison in the foundations my father laid.

I took a deep breath. The air tasted like blood.

“Your cousin…” I said, my voice dangerously low, “he’s got balls.”

Bianca completely missed the murder in my tone. She just got cockier.

“Of course he does! I’m telling you, my cousin plans to bring our whole family into the club! All the men, women, everyone!” she cackled. “The whole club will be ours, and my cousin will be king!”

I took a slow breath. “Your cousin’s a real operator in his family, huh?”

She didn’t catch my drift. She just kept bragging.

“You’re just figuring that out?”

“My cousin said that after a while, he’s going to get our family into all the Grimaldi businesses. We’ll be in every part of the operation. Forget the club, even the docks will be ours to run!”

One hell of a club manager.

The man had ambition.

I smirked. “And your cousin isn’t afraid the Don will find out?”

Bianca let out a short, sharp laugh.

“My cousin says the new Don is just some kid back from college. He’s all mysterious and quiet, with a dozen other businesses to run. He’ll never notice a small club like this.”

“As long as the Don’s not around, my cousin can do whatever he wants!”

I smiled.

It was true, I had a lot of businesses. But they were all running smoothly.

I only stepped in for major decisions. The rest of it ran itself.

But this club, the one tied so closely to the docks, was different.

I had high hopes for it. I wanted it to be the main hub for the family and our allies.

But it’s been underperforming for years.

That’s why I’d been spending all my time here lately.

Even going undercover as a bartender, just to watch.

I wanted to find the problem.

And now, I finally had.

The rot started from within. We had rats.