by Serena Light
"God!" Vincent groaned as he stared at the sky, his hands on his hips as he inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself before he rubbed his eyes. "You know, this is why our friendship became strained. I'm done, I can't do this anymore." He spoke with a defeated sigh as he started to walk away, making his way out the cemetery.
Arcangelo groaned in irritation, running a hand through his hair as he tried to get himself together, his breathing ragged and harsh in the silence of their surroundings.
"Arcangelo..." Rosalie whispered as she wanted to comfort him, hug him and just hold onto him.
Because after hearing everything, she, just as well as everyone else, knew it wasn't his fault.
Reaching out, she placed a hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away from her touch. Turning his back towards her, he sniffled before scrubbing at his face.
"The guards will take you home." He stated softly, also making his way towards the exit.
"Wait!" Rosalie called out as he halted in his step. "What about us?" She asked quietly as Arcangelo turned away.
"It's all up to you."
Chapter XIX: America
The sound of the jet's engine infiltrated the airport as it taxied to a stop, its white surface glinting in the sunlight as it came to a halt. After a moment, the stairs lowered as Arcangelo stepped out of the interior, walking down the stairs as a Rolls Royce stood awaiting him.
"Welcome to America, Mr. Regnante." The man, his escort, spoke with a polite smile and a professional stance. "I hope your flight was alright."
"Yes, it went well," Arcangelo informed as he turned on his phone, glancing at the lack of messages and calls before slipping it into his blazer's pocket.
"If you will, the car will be taking you to your hotel."
With a nod, he approached the car, one of the men opening the back door for him as he settled down, the doors closing and bathing the interior in the dimness. Soon, he was pulling away from the airport and onto the Washington roads.
A sigh escaped him as he looked out at the passing scenery.
He was going to be here for at least two weeks and he didn't even want to be here.
The annual Mafia meeting was being hosted by his American counterpart, the Gambino crime family, and every single Mafia boss was expected to be there. The Irish, American, Italians, Russian. The whole world's Mafia bosses all under one roof.
They were all coming together to discuss whether alliances will be made or broken as well as the introduction of some Mafia sons who would be expected to witness this.
It shouldn't be bloody.
Why?
Because guns weren't allowed inside the room, and no one was allowed to resort to violence. Not even Arcangelo, the king of the Underworld.
At this meeting, however, Arcangelo had been made aware of quite a few traitors who had gotten themselves into his alliances and used his name to sell information to the government. Mostly regarding him, obviously. However, the fact still remains that they betrayed him and sold secrets to the CIA.
He wasn't going to idly sit by and let it happen. He would make their betrayal a lesson for everyone else, and let them know that the Regnante's weren't ruling for no reason. They earned this title through bloodshed, sweat, and murder.
No one was going to double cross a Regnante, because that would be the first and last mistake he will ever make against them.
Now one just needed a foolproof way to make them suffer and understand the consequences of messing with him.
Before he could ponder on his options too much, the car came to a halt in front of his hotel, The Ritz-Carlton. The valet opened his door just as he was putting on his sunglasses. Stepping out of the car, he looked around him for a moment, noticing that majority of the people there made it a point to maintain their distance.
A small smirk made its way across his lips as he walked past the staff and towards the reception.
"Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Washington D.C. I'm Michael, how may I be of assistance?"
"Reservation for Regnante," Arcangelo spoke as the man nodded, typing up the name before turning around to retrieve a key card.
"The Ritz-Carlton Suite for Mr. Regnante," Michael stated while handing the card over to him. "Your luggage has been delivered to your room, and lunch will be served in half an hour."
"Thank you." Arcangelo nodded as he took the key.
"Enjoy your stay with us."
***
This years meeting was going to be conducted at a warehouse, an abandoned one at that, at the outskirts of town. The venue didn't matter as long as the location was secure and safe. And if an abandoned factory fit the criteria, then so be it.
Just as Arcangelo had fixed his cufflinks he had received the call telling him his car was waiting downstairs. Sending a quick text on his phone, he was out of the suite and soon out of the hotel. Settling in the back of the car, he was amused to find a bottle of Champagne placed beside two tall glasses.
He knew it was a bit early to be drinking such a fancy brew, but then again, he wasn't one for societal conformities.
Pouring himself a glass, he lit a cigarette as he waited for the car to arrive at its destination. As he waited, his phone chimed in his pocket.
"Are you are the meeting?" Vincent texted
"On my way."
"What's your plan?"
"Leave it to me."
There was a pause in their exchange, and Arcangelo could already imagine his second in command holding his head in frustration and exhaling deeply at his lack of collaboration. After all, Vincent was his employee and Arcangelo was under so such obligation to tell him every minute detail of a plan.
"Rosalie's fine, by the way." His phone chimed as Arcangelo raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't ask."
"I know, just thought I might keep you updated on your 'princess'."
Passive-aggressiveness really wasn't Vincent's thing, and therefore Arcangelo didn't bother to respond as he did away with the cigarette and left his drink untouched while they pulled into the parking lot to the warehouse.
Various cars stood parked around the grounds, various men with guns held in hand, patrolled the area--all of them watching out for any threat or the authorities. Meanwhile, Mafia men and their sons either loitered around the area or were going through the security detail of leaving their weapons outside the conference. Taking a momentary glance around, the door was pulled open for him as he stepped out, noticing how the men either tensed or froze in their place, some doing both.
With his back straight and his shoulders squared, he held up his chin like the king he was before making his way across the gravel.
"Boss." The few men bowed, as they gave him space to walk before them.
Stopping in front of the door, he allowed them to swipe the metal detector across him after he had placed his weapons into a box specifically for him. Once he was cleared, Arcangelo stepped across the threshold and into the empty interior of the warehouse.
It had large windows at the top of the walls which allowed the sunlight to stream in. The floors had been cleaned, the lights fixed with a long conference table placed in the middle of the floor, surrounded by 20 or so, leather chairs. Fixing his cufflinks, Arcangelo's footsteps echoed off the walls as every single man stood up, bowing their heads and avoiding his gaze as he approached.
"Boss." Rung out through the interior as Arcangelo took the seat at the head of the table, getting comfortable before allowing everyone to settle with a nod.
Everyone sat down before the host of this event stood up.
He was dressed in a light grey suit with a black button-up and grey tie. His greying hair matching the color of his suit as he had a broad grin on his face.
"Gentlemen." He spoke proudly as everyone's gaze turned towards him. "Welcome to this year's Annual Mafia Conference."
"We are all here to discuss important issues, and beating about the bush will not be tolerated." He informed with a serious expression. "The rules are simple
. No violence, no weapons, and we are all here to talk like civilized men."
"So, let the meeting commence."
With that, he sat down as the men all remained silent for a moment. After a minute, a young and fresh face stood up, clad in a navy blue suit and a piece of paper laid out before him.
"Boss, if I may?" The young man inquired as he turned toward Arcangelo, addressing him with a thick Irish accent and a bowed head. With a nod, the man straightened and took a look around at the men.
"Good morning gentleman. I am Arthur Sutton of the Ireland Mafia and I am here to address the matter of the alliance breach by the Japanese Mafia."
Instantly the Japanese Mafia boss, Hiroshima Takeda, shot to his feet about to open his mouth to argue against the Irish before Arcangelo raised his hand, instantly silencing the man and gesturing for him to take a seat.
"What clause of the alliance seems to be violated?" Arcangelo inquired calmly.
"According to our evidence, the Japanese have been performing a cartel trade with the Mexicans, our enemy."
"And what do you have to say in your defense?" Arcangelo asked the Japanese Mafia boss.
"Boss, we have not." The man defended.
"Mr. Sutton. You mentioned some evidence?"
"Yes, sir. Right here, sir." He stated as he eagerly handed a Manila folder to the guard behind him to take the folder to the Boss.
After a moment of reviewing the material, Arcangelo could see that the Irish had solid evidence against the Japanese.
"Well, Mr. Hiroshima, according to the evidence before me, you are guilty of breaching the alliance agreement." He concluded as the Japanese once more tried to defend themselves before being silenced by a wave of the hand. "Mr. Sutton, what punishment had been previously decided in case of such an occurrence?"
"25% of the trading income is to be given to the Irish and 15% from their total armament is to be handed over."
"Mr. Hiroshima, will we be having any troubles carrying out the payment?"
"No, sir."
"Good." Arcangelo nodded in satisfaction. "What seems to be the next matter at hand?"
Most of Arcangelo's evening was spent dealing with various problems. Drug cartels. Sex cartels. Breach of trading. Insider information. Money laundering. Human trafficking. Etcetera. Etcetera. Etcetera.
By the time it was ending, Arcangelo was rubbing his forehead, wanting nothing more than to leave.
"If that would be all." Mr. Gambino, the host started to speak as they all started to rise, waiting for the dismissal announcement.
"I have a matter that needs to be dealt with." Arcangelo drawled lazily as instantly every settled in their seats as the words left his mouth. "It has come to my attention that one of my 'allies' has been attempting to sell secrets of my mafia to the CIA. And I want that matter dealt with."
"Do you know who this person is?" Mr. Gambino asked after having taken a nervous glance at the men.
Arcangelo rubbed his chin, seemingly in thought as the men all shuffled in their seats, the fathers grabbing their sons' by their shoulders in case they need to be pushed beneath the table.
"How is it..." he trailed while everyone squirmed, "That the Serbians haven't mentioned a single problem so far? May I inquire why that is so, Mr. Surcin."
"Well..." Mr. Surcin spoke as he cleared his throat. "We have loyal people."
"Yet, you aren't loyal. Are you?"
"Sir?"
"I am well aware that is has been you who's been attempting to sell information against my Mafia." Arcangelo drawled. "Keyword: attempting. No one is as stupid as you to try anything against me."
Mr. Surcin cleared his throat once more as he sat up straight, a devious smirk making its way onto his lips as he leered at Arcangelo.
"What makes you think that people aren't buying the information? I have people left and right groveling at my feet for the information."
"Because the CIA and FBI directors work for me." Arcangelo chuckled at his lack of knowledge. "And they would never risk anything against me."
Instantly the Serbian paled as the others looked around nervously, afraid something might happen.
"Well, you can't do anything to me." The man grinned victoriously.
"Here? No. I can't do anything to you." Arcangelo agreed. "But what's stopping me from ruining your operations in Serbia?"
"You wouldn't!"
"You have a very pretty wife, Zoran. Rather young to be a mother."
"Do not touch my Mina!" The man growled as he stood from his seat, toppling his chair in the process.
"Dismissed." Arcangelo waved, rather bored, before standing up and leaving.
Once he retrieved his possessions, he made his way to the car, standing before the door as he could see Zoran Surcin's reflection in the window, watching him make frantic calls and speaking rapid Serbian into the device. With every successive phone call, he grew more and more distressed, his entire posture high strung and tense as he kept on tearing at his hair.
Apparently, this call seemed to be the cherry because he threw his phone away, screaming at the top of his lungs before being reduced to his knees in a hysterical mess, his men beside him in an instant.
But none of them could do anything for a man who had been reduced to nothing.
A dark chuckle escaped Arcangelo as he settled down, impatient to get back to the hotel and treat himself to a delicious red meat steak.
Chapter XX: Flashback
Arcangelo Regnante had been 24 on the night of the event.
He was visiting home after he managed to get a break from his job.
Having been a Harvard Alumni, who had a degree in engineering, and a rather well paying job in America.
His sister had gotten married the year before and was expecting her first child, his elder brother had been married for three years and had a beautiful little 2-year-old son. And now his mother was trying to get him to marry.
"Ma, Onofrio married the girl of his dreams." Arcangelo sighed to the woman before him, her hazel hair shimmering in the sunlight as she frowned at her son. "I don't even have a girlfriend at this point, marriage seems to be out of the question."
"Why don't you have a girlfriend, again?" His mother inquired for the umpteenth time.
"Because your baby boy sucks with the ladies, isn't that right bro?" His elder brother teased beside his mother.
"Coming from the guy who has only been with one woman his entire life."
"She is my soul mate!" His brother spoke dramatically.
"Shut the fuck up!" Their sister groaned from the lounge where she was searching for something to watch on the television,
"Language." Ellie's voice chastised as she made her way to the dining room with 2-year-old Arsenio. Walking over to Arcangelo, she handed the toddler to him as he grinned victoriously.
"Honey!" Onofrio exclaimed in disbelief as Ellie whipped around in surprise.
She looked at her husband for a moment before turning to look at her brother-in-law before back to her husband.
"Oh. Sorry, I keep mixing you two."
"Must the black hair and blue eyes." Arcangelo grinned as he played with his nephew, making weird faces as the child giggled hysterically.
"We don't even look anything alike." Onofrio pouted from his seat. "Why does he have my son?"
"Because he is my nephew." Arcangelo grinned teasingly. "And everyone knows that boys like their uncles more than their dad's."
"Not true!"
"True!"
"Boys!" Helen, their mother, intervened as they both settled down, Onofrio turning his attention to the paper as Arcangelo resumed playing with his nephew.
The front door suddenly opened and closed shut, followed by Alyna's greeting.
"Daddy!" She greeted enthusiastically as she stood from the sofa and greeted her father with a hug. Instantly Arcangelo tensed and so did his mother, meanwhile, his brother perked up.
"Good morning." Antonio Regnante greeted the population as they greet
ed in response.
"To what do we owe this sudden surprise?" Helen asked with a soft smile as she wrapped her arms around her husband's waist, looking up at him with intrigue as Arcangelo felt sick looking at the two like this.
Antonio didn't respond to her question, instead, he placed a kiss on her forehead before holding up two black envelopes with golden cursive writing.
"Onofrio, my boy." He spoke loudly, gaining his son's attention. "Welcome to the Mafia World." Antonio grinned as he held out an envelope to him.
With a surprised look, Onofrio took the envelope, seeing it addressed to him and his wife.
Tearing it open, he took out the gold and black card, reading the writing.
"I-I've been invited to the King's Auction?" He stammered in disbelief as their father beamed with pride. "Wow. This-this is quite the honor."
"It is indeed." Antonio beamed as he held up his own invitation. "I want to invite the Moretti's."
"Of course you do." Helen smiled with an eye roll.
"The Morettis' won't be able to come, daddy," Alyna informed from the doorway. "They're all taken Claire to the hospital."
"Oh!" Ellie suddenly gasped as everyone turned to look at her. "I don't think I can go either, I can't leave Arsenio."
"Oh, right." Onofrio realized that he had his son to consider as well. "Well...this is an invitation for two."
"You two should go," Arcangelo spoke up as he noticed the distraught look on his brother's face. "I can look after Arsenio."
"No, Arcangelo..."
"Come on, I can handle him. You two haven't been anywhere since he's been born. I think it's a well-deserved outing." He grinned reassuringly. "Besides, little boo and I will get to spend some quality time together."
"Yes, it sounds like a splendid idea." Antonio piped in as Arcangelo gritted his teeth. "You should take your brother's offer."
"What do you say?" Onofrio asked his wife, who looked uncertain.
"I don't know-"
"Don't you trust me, Ellie?" Arcangelo asked with a sad look as he regarded his sister-in-law.