Chapter 2

Vincent rolled his eyes, listening to his cousin, Domenico and younger brother, Gio talk about the job they just finished, as he turned the knob to his father's office. Walking in he heard his father talking to Roco, his youngest brother. "I am proud of you son, for treating your brother's club as your own," his father said patting Roco on the shoulder.

"Yes, little brother. You have been doing great things with my club," Vincent shook Roco's hand. Roco was dressed in a dark blue suit with a maroon tie. Vincent thought about laughing seeing as his brother only wore a suit when in their father presence. Everyone knew that he would leave the suit jacket in the front hall closest on his way out. His normal attire usually consisted of dark washed jeans and a button up with at least the top three buttons undone. But when you were around Francesco Bellandini, you dressed like he expected a responsible man to dress.

"Thank you, brother. I'm glad you decided to trust me with this job." Roco turned and grabbed his leather jacket that was hanging on the arm of the chair he was recently occupying. "I will let the bad boys fill you in father. I have a hot date before heading to the club, anyway," he said as he put on his coat.

"You know it's summer right Roco?" Domenico asked him, shaking his head. No one ever understood why Roco insisted on wearing his leather jacket year-round. It was too hot for that shit right now.

"Yeah, yeah," Roco said, flipping off the group and walking out the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Gio imitated his brother before laughing and looking around the room at the other men who were looking at him with questioning looks on their faces.

Vincent shook his head, "anyways, Padre," he said, turning to look at the man he was speaking to and kissing each cheek in respect. Francesco Bellandini was the Capo DI tutti capi, or boss of all bosses, within the Italian Mafia. He was also Vincent's father. Most people feared him, but Vincent and most of his close family knew when it came to them, he was nothing more than a big lovable teddy bear. Even so, Vince had never shown his father any disrespect and he never would. He was next in line and he didn't want him to ever think that he wasn't ready for it.

Vincent looked at his father. The man was shorter than him, but he knew that besides that and their eye color, they looked nearly exactly alike. They had the same roman shaped nose and full lips. Our skin was tanned because of our Italian heritage and our hair was dark black. Francesco still styles his in the same pompadour hairstyle that he had been since he was a teenager. Vincent's on the other hand, was faded on the side, but long on the top. No matter their differences, Vincent tried to be like his father as much as he could, but he knew that he had to do some things different when he took over. He had spent his entire life being prepped for this. He was ready. "How did the job go tonight, boys?" Vincent's father asked him as he walked behind his desk and unbuttoned his suit jacket before taking a seat.

"It went really well, Uncle," Domenico spoke before Vincent could. He earned a glare from his cousin for his excitement. "I apologize, Cousin," he said, cracking his knuckles before walking over to and sitting on the couch in the corner of the office to help himself stay out of the way.

"That's great to hear, Figlio. I assume that we won't be having any more problems with the Morandi Family?" he asked his son with a raised eyebrow.

Vincent nodded his head, "they shouldn't be a problem. I think blowing up an entire warehouse full of their product was just what they needed to understand that they shouldn't bite the hand that feeds them."

"Fantastico," Francesco said, throwing his hands in the air with joy as he stood up from his chair. The three boys laughed. They all loved how excited the man got when things went as planned. They, like everyone, were more than a little terrified when things did not. "I'm telling you boys, I am feeling more and more secure in the fact that my son will be in charge and that you boys will be beside him the whole way," he smiled at each of the boys with pride. He walked around his desk, stopping in front of Domenico.

"Thank you, father," Vincent and Gio said at the same time as Domenico stood before saying, "thank you, Uncle, that means the world to me."

"Your father would be proud of you, Nipote," Francesco said, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. Domenico's father was Francesco's younger brother and he was his consigliere or advisor. He was killed during an attack when Domenico was five. With his mother having died during childbirth, Vincent's parents had taken him in and raised him as if he was their own. Vincent and his two blood brothers never looked at him as anything but a brother. Even if they hadn't had some of the same blood, they still would have seen him that way.

"Let's go celebrate our latest victory," Gio raised his fist in the air as if he already was. Francesco looked at him with a stern look, not impressed with his son's outburst.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, "Idiota," he breathed shaking his head.

"What?" Gio shrugged causing everyone to chuckle. Gio spent a lot of time being intimidating when they were working, but whenever it was just the family he could be pretty goofy. Plus, he loved a good party just like the rest of them.

An hour later, Vincent walked into the back door of his club with his brother and cousin right behind him. He nodded to the bartenders that were setting up for the night as Roco walked up to them. He still had his leather jacket on but seemed to have changed into jeans and his button up shirt that was more unbuttoned than not, from the tie and dress pants he was wearing earlier. "Vince, I have some paperwork that you need to approve for a few different orders we need to make."

He nodded before turning to the guys behind him, "I want you two to check in with security and make sure that everything is as it should be then meet me in the office," they both nodded before turning to head to do as they were told.

He led the way to his office, Roco stopped and ran into his office that was right across the hall, and grabbed the papers, before running back across the hallway and into his brothers. "Here you go," he said, handing Vincent the stack of papers. He took them from his brother and sat behind his large desk.

Vincent's office was dark and masculine. There was a large window that overlooked the dance floor of the club giving him a lay of the land as it were. He had made sure that the walls were insulated well enough that only a little of the bass from the music in the club was heard. Not being able to hear while making business deals was not a good thing. He had offered the office to Roco when he started running the club for him, but he had refused it knowing that the office was sometimes his older brethren’s sanctuary since their father wouldn't step foot in the club.

"Everything is going smoothly? What happened to your date?" He asked his brother without looking up from the papers in front of him. He scribbled his signature across a couple then went back to reading others.

Roco rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, I wanted to talk to you about something," he said gaining his brother's undivided attention with his tone of voice. Vincent stared into his brother's blue eyes that he had gotten from their mother and waited for him to continue. "There has been someone selling drugs in here. We can't seem to keep it out," Roco sighed. "We catch a guy every night and then there's a new one the next. I got a call on my way to the restaurant, that they caught someone again."

"And you're just now telling me this?" He asked in a deep tone that sent a chill of fear through Roco's body. Standing up, he walked around his desk. "I can assume that because you are busting them, they are not our men, so whose are they?" He barked loudly.

Roco shook his head, "we don't know. We have been trying to figure that out for weeks. I didn't say anything because I was trying to prove myself. I know that you all take me as the little brother that screws around and makes jokes. I wanted to prove myself," he lowered his head. He knew that he had let his brother down and he felt horrible for it.

Vincent took several deep breaths. He hated losing his temper with his youngest brother. He had given him the job managing his club because he knew that Roco didn't have the slightest interest in anything the Mafia had to offer. He likes to have a good time, so what was more perfect than the club. Vincent had really never expected him to take it as seriously as he had.

"My apologies brother," He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I understand. Thank you for telling me now. We will spend the evening trying to get to the bottom of this," he walked back to his desk and took a seat to finish the pile of paperwork. Roco sat in the chair in front of Vincent's desk and rolled up his sleeves. Vincent looked up for a second before back at the papers, "new ink?" He asked his little brother.

"Yep," Roco popped the p. He looked over his own arms. They were the only place on his body, he had tattoos and he was nearly out of space. The women liked it, but he wasn't sure he wanted more. He was picky when it came to his tattoos. His brothers liked to tease him about the amount of time it took for him to decide on one but he didn't mind. They were covered more than him, but that was their decision. He didn't see the point in getting something permanent on his skin from a dare, as Vincent had, or the number of women you had been with or men you had killed like his cousin and Gio.

"How long did it take you to get this time?" His brother asked him breaking him from his thoughts. He still didn't look at him when he spoke just continued to read the papers in front of him.

"I've been thinking about it for about a year," he shrugged. Vincent scoffed and shook his head. "It's for madre," he told him. "You know since she is always saying we are lucky Jesus has such a sacred heart." Vincent laughed hard at his brother's explanation.

"No wonder it took you a year to get the thing. Madre is going to hit you," he told his little brother who sighed.

"See why I think these things through," he put his head in his hands. Vincent laughed harder.

"Just make sure she see's it after she has eaten dinner. After a few glasses of wine, she starts to like our tattoos... Sometimes," he advised. Rocco groaned, but said nothing and Vincent went back to the contract he had been reading before he decided to mess with him.