As I stared at him, Valentini murmured, "My capos."
I blinked at his explanation, appreciating it. "My second," I replied, motioning at Brennan with my chin. "The rest are guards in case you do something stupid like try to pull a fast one."
Valentini grinned. "I’m Sicilian, Aidan," he chided. "We Sicilians don’t break our word."
"You identify as Sicilian and not Italian?" I queried.
"Are you Irish or American?"
Though I got what he meant, I replied, "I’ve never even been to fucking Ireland."
He smirked. "Still Irish though, aren’t you?"
I smirked back. "Still am, for sure."
"Much as I appreciate the meeting, especially so soon, I was hoping to meet with your father, Aidan—"
"I know you were. Some business is for me to deal with now. That’s not to say that you’re less important to my father, if anything I think it’s indicative of what you were saying yesterday—we’ll be the ones who’ll reign over this city together."
I’d had power in the Five Points since I was sixteen years old, but this highlighted how little I’d really had.
This was power.
Forging new alliances and breaking up others.
Valentini’s eyes gleamed. "A new guard."
I nodded. "Exactly. Now, why would he broker this agreement and not me?"
He shot me a steady look. "That means a deal’s going to be had? You’ll back me as Don?"
"The Famiglia’s been a fucking mess for decades. What makes you think you can reign over it and keep those animals in line?"
"Do you know how it works?"
"Vaguely. What’s on Wikipedia mostly," I mocked.
Valentini laughed. "I think we’ll get along for sure, Aidan." He rubbed his hands together. "There used to be five families in charge of the whole Famiglia. Five collectives who worked to keep the central line, the Valentinis, in check. It never failed us. Five is a check and balance, after all.
"Fieri annihilated my family, and eradicated one other, leaving behind the Genovicos and the Rossis. They were his lapdogs. His bitches."
"As far as we’ve come to know, the Sparrows started blackmailing the Famiglia back in the sixties/seventies."
Valentini nodded. "Yes, after my grandfather was killed they started to slither their way in. That would never have happened on our watch, but it is what it is. There’s no changing the past, but there’s letting it breathe new life into the future." He folded his arms across his chest. "My intention is to bring back the original way. It worked."
"Five families?"
"Five."
"Including the Rossis and Genovicos?"
His top lip quirked up in a snarl. "What do you think?"
"I think that, in my family, they’d be slaughtered like the pigs they are."
"And you’d be right. Now, I was raised in Sicily, but I’ve been back in the States for ten years." He rubbed his jaw. "Slowly, I’ve been building shit up to the point where I was going to trigger a war.
“Benito Fieri’s seat is my rightful place, after all.
“But before I could, this entire shit show went down with the Irish and the Russians, these Sparrow fuckers came to light, and, here we stand. The Fieris taken down by you, and your allies, the Famiglia in tatters, and hundreds of soldatos, never mind capos, running around like headless chickens."
I nodded. "They’re going to be a problem soon enough."
"You take away the elders, the rulers, and all of a sudden, you have young fucks roaming the streets, unchecked." He met my gaze. "I’ve gained a majority rule in the Famiglia, but when I consolidate power once this peace deal is brokered between us, you won’t have to worry about that. We’ll back off Irish territory, stick to our own—"
"What about Russian territory?" I questioned. "Your war is mostly with them."
"I know. Once I take over fully, I’ll see to it that I speak with the new Pakhan, broker peace with him as well."
"You’re being very conciliatory," I pointed out. "I’m not sure, in your shoes, if I’d be so diplomatic."
Valentini merely said, "I don’t appreciate having to speak with the Irish Mob’s golden boy to get what’s rightfully mine, but I’ve done worse over the years to reach this point.
“One conversation with you will save a lot of men’s lives, and seeing as how the Famiglia is already on its ass, I think that makes me a smart leader, one who’ll go to bat for his people rather than leading them into a war they can’t win."
I believed him, and he spoke sense.
Shooting a look at Brennan whose poker face was, as usual, in play, I saw him make the tiniest of nods, and knew he and I were on the same page.
I reached up and rubbed my chin. "What do you want from us?"
And that was when we both got down to business, hashing out an agreement that, unbeknownst to the city, would have a detrimental effect on its streets for decades to come.
Valentini and I made history together in that moment, a history that wouldn’t be in the textbooks, that would never be discussed outside of this room and with these people, but it was groundbreaking nonetheless.
It also took hours. Hours of my Christmas Eve morning where I should have been waking up with my dick inside Savannah—a new festive tradition I intended to uphold for the rest of my fucking life—and stuffing my face full of Ma’s freshly baked monkey bread.
When Valentini and his men were driving off the compound of the cement factory we owned, one of many fronts in Manhattan, I turned to Brennan and asked, "Any news from home?"
He arched a brow at me. "No. Should there be?"
I scrubbed my chin. "I don’t know. The folks are a lot more fragile than I like."
"They’ll come around. They’re not the sort to let shit gather under their feet."
True, but... "This is different, and you know it."
He grunted, then called out, "Forrest, Tink, Baggy, you can all fuck off home now."
"About time," Baggy groused. "Some of us have wives to fuck."
"Some of us have wives who’ll nag about us going missing for hours on end on Christmas Eve morning," Forrest confirmed.
"Jesus. Talk about a bunch of moaners," Brennan rumbled. "Stop bitching at me and get your asses home." As his crew grunted and started rolling their eyes, he called out, "Merry Christmas, fuckers."
They returned the call, and I was left with my crew. Men I barely knew anymore. Men who I’d outgrown a long time ago, but who, I knew, would have my back.
I shot a look at Mickey, Jamie, and Connolly, and told them all, "Have a great day tomorrow. See you the day after Boxing Day."
Like I was their fucking general, they saluted me. Their formality so unlike Brennan’s crew that, for a moment, I was envious.
For all that the sniping between Brennan and his men could have looked like a weakness, it was, if anything, a strength. They wouldn’t ass-lick, wouldn’t blow smoke up his ass and be anything other than candid with him.
Yeah, Brennan’s relationship with his crew was something to envy for sure.