Page 7 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

His eyes opened wide. “What? But you’re wearing a ring. Are you a widower? Oh, god. I’m so sorry?—”

I held up my hand to stop his ramblings. “I’ve never been married. I wear this ring as a defense. Against women who might want marriage with me. Capisce?”

“Ah, I get it. But you don’t need to wear that for Maggie. She’s as anti-relationship as they come.”

That made two of us. “Good to know, but I don’t plan to tell her the ring is fake. And I suggest you don’t, either.”

“Why not? She won’t care that you’re single. The winery is all that matters to her, and I think it’s safe to say you’ve blown any chance with her by signing that paperwork today.”

“I’m not looking for a chance with her, but I also don’t want to explain myself or my personal life. We should stick to strictly business. It will make it easier for all of us.”

Michael exhaled like he was relieved. “Okay, sounds good.”

I clapped him on the back. “Andiamo. I want to get my people settled and you have a dinner party to manage.”

The next morning, desperate for a cappuccino, I took one of the guards and drove into town at daybreak.

Even at home, I didn’t sleep much. I had a difficult time shutting off my brain at night, and sleeping late proved impossible. This morning was worse. With unfamiliar surroundings, and no curtains or blinds on the cottage windows, I woke up as soon as the purple wisps of dawn broke free.

The house needed modifications, including an alarm system. I’d see to that today.

Tommaso pulled the car into the lot of a café. The Leaning Tower of Pastries. Madre di dio, these Americans. No respect for my country at all.

“Want me to go in for you?” Tommaso asked.

“Not necessary. I’ll bring you back something.”

“Grazie, Don D’Agostino.” He closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat.

I didn’t feel badly about getting him out of bed. My men worked for me, not the other way around. I exited the car and buttoned my overcoat as a feeble defense against the cold air. It helped only slightly. Thankfully, the café was empty, having opened only five minutes ago.

A young woman behind the counter slid a tray of croissants into the display case. She had dark hair and a nose ring through one nostril. “Good morning. How can I help you?”

“Buongiorno,” I said. “May I have four cappuccinos, per favore?”

“Sure. Small or large?”

“Large.”

“That’ll just take a minute. Did you want anything to eat?”

Removing my gloves, I looked at the half-full display case. “Do you have any rolls?”

“Like, cinnamon rolls?”

Christ, no. “I’ll take plain croissants and biscotti, if you have it.”

“We do.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Gram, shake a leg back there!”

“Okay! Keep your shirt on,” a female voice said from somewhere.

Wandering away from the counter, I took out my mobile and began checking messages.

Several emails awaited from partners overseas, so I responded as necessary, quickly and efficiently.

These were from my legitimate business interests.

I didn’t handle criminal activity electronically, except with a specially encrypted laptop back at the cottage.

Enzo paid computer hackers a fortune to ensure all our equipment remained safe.

“Well, hello there. You’re new to town, aren’t you?”

I turned and saw a woman behind the counter, likely early sixties, with short gray hair. She was carrying a tray of biscotti. Because I didn’t like answering personal questions, I asked one of my own. “I assume you are the owner?”

“Oh, you’re Italian.” She moved behind the case and slid in the tray. “That seems to be catching on around here.”

Meaning Benetti and his crew. I gave a bland smile. “I’ve heard nice things about your town.”

“You’re staying at the B&B, right?”

It seemed word traveled quickly here. No doubt everyone would soon learn that I was now at the vineyard. “Is there a place to purchase an espresso machine around here?”

“Oh, honey,” the older woman said. “We bought ours in Albany a few years ago. But you’re welcome to stop in here whenever you like. We have the best coffee in town.”

Another item on my list of things to buy. “What about a decorator or a construction company? Do you have a local recommendation?”

She leaned against the counter. “I don’t think Salvatore will like you making changes to his B&B. Or are you buying a house out near the river, too?”

The young girl set two cups on the counter. Bending, she found a drink carrier below and secured my cappuccinos in it. “Gram, you’re asking too many questions. None of this is your business.”

“I can’t help the way I am,” her grandmother was saying. “But, fine. Donna is the best—and only—decorator in Paesano. But her taste tends to run flashy, if you know what I’m saying. I’m thinking you’re the opposite.”

I nodded once. This was definitely true.

The young woman punched a few buttons on the register. “Val hired a guy from the city and they seemed happy with the results. You might ask her who she used. How many biscotti and croissants?”

“Four of each, per favore. And the contractor?”

“Oh, everybody uses John,” said the older woman. “He’s reasonable and fast.”

“Will you write down his name for me?”

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll give you his number. He’s my nephew.”

She wrote a name and number on a card and handed it to me. I pocketed it, then gave her two fifty-dollar bills for my breakfast. “Grazie, signora.”

“That is very generous of you, mister . . . ?”

“D’Agostino.”

“Nice to meet you, Mister D’Agostino. I’m Bev. This is my granddaughter, Sam.”

I inclined my head as I lifted the bag and the drink carrier. “ Arrivederci .”

“Come back anytime.”

Once in the car I sipped my cappuccino and dialed Benetti. He picked up on the third ring. “Pronto—and this had better be important.”

“Benetti, come stai?”

“I’m on my long-awaited honeymoon, D’Agostino. And I’m not supposed to be working.”

I got to the point. “I’m taking over the Fiorentino Winery. I thought you should know.”

“Hold on.” There was some noise and I heard him say, “Fiore mio, I’ll return in a moment.”

More shuffling, then a door closed. His voice was deep and unhappy. “Tell me why you are taking over a winery in my territory.”

“I’m taking it as a debt repaid from Michael, the boy. He lost a fuck ton of money to me in a poker game at the casino.”

He exhaled. “Maggie is one of Valentina’s closest friends. And you’re swindling her brother? Che cazzo?”

“I didn’t swindle him. The boy is shit at cards. It’s not my fault he borrowed more than he could repay.” We both knew how this worked. It shouldn’t even be a discussion.

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “Any chance I can talk you out of it? Or offer to cover what Michael lost?”

“No. I want the winery.”

“Why? Their wine is shit.”

“I think I can make it better.” I had some ideas on this, none that Maggie would like. I was very much looking forward to those conversations.

“Go back to Toronto! No one wants you here!”

She had fire, this girl. For someone so young, she was bold and confident. Unafraid, certainly. We’d fucked all over that hotel suite in every position, mostly at her request.

“Against the windows, Vito. Let everyone watch us. Think of how jealous they’ll be.”

Benetti’s voice dragged me out of my memories. “I’m assuming you’ll return to Toronto.”

He wouldn’t want me or my men hanging around, which made sense. But while this was Benetti’s territory, I didn’t take orders from him. “Yes, in a few weeks. I want to get the winery sorted first.”

“Of course you pull this shit when I’m out of town.”

“If you were here, I’d still proceed with my plans.” I paused. “I’m not encroaching. I have enough to handle in Toronto as it is.”

“Yet you want to own a winery in Paesano.”

“A good investment, no?”

“Not this one. They are barely surviving.”

I wondered how he knew this. His wife, maybe? “As I said, I believe I can turn it around.”

“No offense, but what do you know about running a winery?”

“Go enjoy your honeymoon.”

“D’Agostino.” Silence stretched on the other end as if he were thinking. Finally, he said, “This girl means something to my wife, capisce? So I expect you to treat the family fairly. Respectfully. And I also expect you to be gone by the time I return next month.”

I didn’t like threats. “Or?”

“I was grateful for your assistance when I first came to New York. But don’t jeopardize our alliance by acting foolishly.”

About a year ago I helped him with one of his cousins, who went rogue during a drug deal. In exchange, I took a slice of the casino. “As I said, I’m staying only a few weeks. I have no designs on the area, except for the winery.”

“See that it stays that way. A presto. ” He disconnected.

“Was he pissed?” Tommaso glanced at me. “About us sticking around?”

“Wary, but it’s to be expected. I’d feel the same if the situation were reversed.”

“Well, those cabins are fucking cold. Please tell me we can buy some heaters today.”

I took another swig of my cappuccino. “Along with an espresso machine, yes. And I’m getting a contractor out there to make whatever changes we want.”

“I thought you told Benetti that we aren’t staying.”

“We’re not. But the bedroom is the size of a closet and there are no fucking blinds.”

“You should see the tiny beds.” Tommaso snickered. “Gaetano rolled over in the middle of the night and fell onto the floor. I nearly pissed myself, I laughed so hard.”

I gestured to the drinks. “Take these cappuccinos and pastries to them. Maybe that will help lessen the sting over the accommodations.”

My phone buzzed. Lifting the screen, I saw my younger brother’s name. “Pronto,” I answered.

“Ciao, fratello!” Massimo was outside, street noises in the background. “Come stai? How is Toronto?”

“I’m in New York, but it’s the same—fucking cold. How are you? How is Roma? The restaurant treating you alright?”

“I just quit.”

I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. This was his third restaurant in three months. My brother was too impulsive. He never thought anything through. “Why? What happened?”

“Dai, they don’t know what they’re doing. And I’m tired of dicing onions and carrots and celery. All day long, mirepoix, mirepoix, mirepoix.”

I tapped my fingers on the door frame. “Maz, you can’t expect to run your own restaurant immediately. You need training.”

“This is not training, Vito. It’s abuse.”

Enzo wouldn’t like this. When he agreed two years ago to let Massimo work as a chef, it was under the condition that Massimo make a serious career of it.

Leaving the ’ndrina was a big fucking deal, not to be taken lightly.

And Enzo only relented because his wife had insisted on it.

Maz didn’t seem to understand any of this.

“And what of our training with Papà all those years?” I asked. “Was that not also abuse? Don’t be such a pussy. You need to stick this out.”

“Fuck off, Vito. I’ve been doing this forever! You try dicing vegetables every day for two years and see how you like it.”

“If that was the job, I’d do it and not complain.”

“Yes, always the good dutiful brother,” he sneered. “I’m sorry I called you.” He disconnected.

I slammed the side of my fist against the door frame. “Merda!”

“Maz quit another place?” Tommaso asked as we turned into the winery’s long drive.

“Yes. And I don’t want Enzo to find out, so keep it to yourself.”

“You can hardly blame him. It’s a big step down for a D’Agostino prince.”

“But it’s a step he chose. You make the choice, you live with it.”

I should know. Moving to Toronto, away from my family and everything familiar, hadn’t been easy. But I was eager to have something of my own, something I could control, rather than sitting in my brother’s shadow.

It was a chance I couldn’t waste. I wasn’t raised to be a don. I was raised to advise the don. For most of my life I had been on the outside, looking in.

Until I left for Toronto.

Now I had power of my own, the opportunity to build a lasting legacy.

But the ’ndrina wasn’t enough. The most successful dons had other revenue streams, like Enzo and his fraud business.

Fausto Ravazzani had hands in all kinds of global operations.

Even Giacomo Buscetta in Palermo had car dealerships.

Real estate seemed like a good investment for me, a way to keep my money clean.

Building an empire requires patience , I reminded myself.

I didn’t mind the wait. Patience was my only virtue.