Prologue
New York City, six months ago . . .
Nico Saccone took one last look in the mirror hanging between the elevators of his grandfather’s penthouse. His blue eyes scanned every inch of his appearance. He brushed the imaginary dust from his perfectly fitted Italian navy pinstripe suit and adjusted the blood-red knot of his perfectly tied tie. He checked out his hair, so dark brown it appeared black and made sure every strand was in place.
He’d waited for this. To be summoned to the Porzio family headquarters for something other than family dinner. His grandfather, Big Joe Porzio, was the head of the family business. Some might call it part of the Italian mafia, but to Nico it was simply the family business.
“What are you doin’ here?”
Nico turned slowly at the sound of a familiar voice. Joseph “Little Joey” Palmero was his older cousin and Nico’s complete opposite. Where Nico took the time to keep his mind and body in peak condition at all times. Little Joe thought everything should be handed to him on a silver platter because his mother was Big Joe’s favorite daughter. Connie was the beauty of the family. The one to marry an Italian millionaire and have the first-born grandson four years before Nico was born.
Nico’s mother had been a disappointment to her father. After three daughters, Big Joe was counting on a son to take over the family business. Instead, he got another daughter. One with brains who’d gone off to university, married a nice Italian boy, and started a CPA firm.
“Unonn called me,” Nico responded in his serious tone. He might only be thirty, but he felt much older, especially next to Little Joey.
“Yeah, Pops called me too,” Joey said with a grin Nico was sure would have women falling at his feet. While Joey wasn’t into taking care of himself, the ten thousand dollar jogging suit, the five hundred thousand dollar sports car, and the beautiful face he’d inherited from his mother worked wonders at gaining him access to whatever he wanted.
Nico refused to show any reaction to the news that his cousin had also been called. He was on edge, though, as the elevator doors opened and the two cousins stepped inside. Nico looked up at the camera scanning his biometrics. The elevator began to rise to the penthouse.
“You know what Pops wants?” Joey asked as he shoved his uncut hair back from his face.
“He didn’t say. I’m assuming family business since he called in his only two grandsons,” Nico said as the elevator came to a smooth stop.
The doors slid open silently and Nico was met with a strange combination of opulence and old-world charm. His grandmother had made the penthouse fortress a home, even with two security guards waiting for anyone to walk off the elevator.
“Gentlemen,” Nico said with a professional smile as he nodded to them. Joey completely ignored them.
“Mr. Porzio will see you now. He’s in his office,” Antony, the head of his grandfather’s security, told him.
Joey pushed past Nico and sauntered down the hall. Nico followed as he ground his teeth. Joey’s mother, Connie, was a suck-up. She’d used her husband’s money to lavish her father with gifts, always made sure her father knew of Little Joey’s accomplishments—even if they were made up or wildly exaggerated—and always made sure to tout Little Joey as the upcoming leader of the next generation of Porzio men.
Nico, on the other hand, had grown up in a happy home where he’d never known that his grandfather was a mob boss until he was in high school and the FBI had unsuccessfully tried to arrest him. Then his mother told him the truth of it. For fourteen years, the biggest mob boss in New York had simply been his unonn, his old Italian grandfather.
Nico stopped and knocked respectfully on the office door even though Joey had already stridden inside.
“Come in, Nico. Such a polite man.” Nico smiled at his grandfather, whose dark hair was mostly gray now that he was approaching eighty.
“What’s going on, Pops?” Joey asked as he slouched in a leather club chair opposite their grandfather’s desk.
Nico took a seat, leaned back, and placed his hands on the chair arms.
“You boys are the next generation of the Porzio family. Your anonn wants me to start stepping back. She wants us to enjoy our golden years together. Maybe even travel a bit. My younger brothers and nephews are running the family offices in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Detroit, Miami, and Austin. I’m thinking of handing off some responsibility here in New York, but I also need a new branch in Charleston. I’ve had word that scumbag, Michael Di Maio, is trying to get a foothold on shipping there. The Porzio family controls shipping ports in New York, Italy, and LA. There’s no way I’m giving him Charleston when it’s one of the fastest growing ports in the country.”
“You want me to take care of Di Maio?” Joey asked, full of arrogance as if he’d ever shot anyone or did any actual work himself.
“That’s not how we work anymore, but I appreciate the willingness,” his grandfather said. “Here’s the deal. Faulkner Shipping is the largest shipper in Charleston. You have one year to get a foothold in Charleston and he’d be the best first choice to get control of the area. You’ll each get a million dollars to get the job done. The one who does the best becomes my heir apparent.”
“No problem, Pops,” Joey said, pushing himself up and out of the chair.
“I have certain containers I need to move from Italy to Charleston and then to their final destinations. They need to make it to their destinations unopened,” his grandfather told them as he handed them each a piece of paper. “These are yours, Joey. And these are yours, Nico. I’ll send you more as I get them.”
“Consider it done,” Joey said with a nod as he took the paper and sauntered from the room.
Nico took the sheet and sat back down. He took his time to look over the information. “What’s in the containers?”
“Does it matter?” his grandfather asked.
Nico looked up from the paper and met his grandfather’s eyes. “Yes. There are different ways to handle the shipments, depending on what they are. If they’re explosive, if they’re illegal, if they’re produce and likely to rot in the hot sun—it all affects how I would handle their transportation.”
His grandfather smiled at him with the same amusement he’d had when Nico was a child. “I’ve heard you, you know? At family dinner. Talking about going legit.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll stop moving illegal goods if that’s what you really want. I just think there’re ways to maximize our profits by slowly taking those illegal profits and investing them in legitimate prospects,” Nico told him.
“Did that fancy business school teach you that?”
Nico grinned at that. His grandfather had insisted on paying for Nico’s Ivy League undergraduate and graduate degrees. Nico was the first man in the family business to go to college. Joey hadn’t bothered with college. He had all he already needed with his family money.
“Yeah, it did. It taught me a lot of things, but you also taught me a lot, Unonn. I haven’t forgotten your lessons on the old ways. I believe there’s a way to mix the two,” Nico told him.
His grandfather was quiet for a moment. “Do it.”