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It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Levi knew the day was coming, the day he’d be forced to face the facts and finally make a move. He couldn’t have avoided it forever, he knew that, he’d just hoped to delay it for as long as possible. He wished he’d had a little more time.

Levi’s attention set on the heavyset man in the sharply-tailored suit standing just to the left of his office door. This was Mario Veltroni, Carlos Nicoletti’s muscle. Veltroni’s dark eyes snapped to his, the intent in them clear enough that Nicoletti’s mouth didn’t need to be here. The word of God was coming from Lorenzo Lucchesi, however; a beanstalk of a man whose origins were debatable. Levi looked the man up and down; from the tips of his polished brown loafers, up his starched navy suit, and to the top of his head where sandy locks retreated into coral coloured skin. Lucchesi was reciting the same crap he’d had to give to a few wayward soldiers in his time, so he didn’t feel he had to give him much attention. Besides, Levi wasn’t just some punk he could talk down to like that. As far as he was aware he was still capo.

Dismissing him with a grimace, Levi’s focus returned to Veltroni; the image of the man in that black suit reminding him of a cobra ready to strike. His hands were clasped in front of him, his shoulders pushed back to exaggerate his already hulking frame. He didn’t need a gun, but he had two at least. Levi’s eyes roamed the confines of his office; he must have had six of his own stashed around the place, but with all the effort he’d put into improving his technique and strength, he probably didn’t need those guns either.

“D’Amico,” Lucchesi barked. “Are you listening to me?”

Angry eyes turned on the blonde man whose Boston accent was a lot thicker than his own. “Sure. I’m listening,” he said.

“Then you know what you gotta do.”

Levi barely suppressed the furious sigh boiling in his lungs, and seethed a quick, “Yep.”

“Be at the meeting tomorrow, D’Amico. Nicoletti expects you at 11 sharp.”

Levi winced internally. “Be more specific. Morning or night?”

Something must have snapped in Lucchesi’s mind because he narrowed one eye at a time then thumped his fist onto Levi’s desk. Levi scowled as the sound pounded his ears with the same force. Umber eyes immediately moved to Veltroni around the blonde’s shoulder, but the snake-man hadn’t flinched – which, Levi supposed was a good sign. Looking back to Lucchesi, Levi’s ego told him to stand up and stare the shorter man down – let him know Levi was not one to be fucked with – but he held himself back.

“You got a problem with daylight, D’Amico?” Lucchesi asked; grey eyes regarding Levi like something a cat had spat up.

He really wanted to have a smart-*** come back since his mind refused to fabricate a rational one. Instead, he just growled under his breath and repeated himself. “Is it AM or PM?”

Not one to be ignored either, Lucchesi slowly and quietly inclined toward Levi causing his office desk to creak. Lucchesi kept his voice soft, but the whisper was fraught with rage. “I asked if you got a problem with daylight, D’Amico.”

“And I asked if the ******* meeting was in the morning or night, Lucchesi.”

So much for keeping his temper under control… Levi’s eyes crossed from those furious silver orbs to the man in black. He expected a gun to be pulled, a fist to be thrown, his office equipment to be catapulted across the room. Instead, Lucchesi stepped back, straightening his beanpole figure and letting his hands drop to his sides; pink hands disappearing beneath heavy black cuffs.

“You got somewhere better to be?” Lucchesi asked; his voice a controlled, wrathful whisper.

“Not exactly,” Levi replied, simmering down.

“So what is it?”

“It’s a medical thing.”

“What da ya mean a medical thing?”

“I mean I’m sick.”

Levi gritted his teeth; this really was the best excuse he could come up with. Sure he probably should have done some research into whatever illness made one sleep during the day or fall into a death-like and involuntary coma for hours, but at least he could be sure that these dipshits hadn’t done any research either. Although it probably wasn’t the best idea to let a bunch of predators know you had a weakness, in Levi’s mind this was something like a case of bait and switch. Bait them with a lesser weakness to hide the fact that he had an even worse one…

Levi maintained his best poker face as he watched the cogs of Lucchesi’s mind consider what he’d been told. He saw the man’s eyes glance across his face like he might be checking his complexion, or looking for some signs of disease, but despite looking a tad on the cool side of cinnamon, Levi hadn’t changed much since becoming a Vampiro. After a moment, Lucchesi hummed to himself and began asking a few annoying questions.

“What kinda sick is it?”

“It ain’t contagious or fatal if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Lucchesi smirked. “Good. So you getting treated?”

“More or less. It’s a slow process.”

Lucchesi hummed to himself again, but before he could come up with any more intrusive questions, Levi cut him off.

“So morning or night?”

“I’ll speak to the boss. Just make sure you’re in Boston tomorrow, D’Amico. You don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you’re not.”

With a signal from Lucchesi, the men took their leave; Veltroni following mere seconds behind the other to make a crude gesture of a gun with his fingers. He pointed at Levi and pretended to take a shot, even blowing smoke from the tip of his stubby forefinger. Veltroni grinned and turned, ambling out the door and leaving Levi to think about what he was going to do next. His first instinct was to talk it over with someone who had a clue about what he was going through, but as it happened, he didn’t know anyone. There was CC of course, but he didn’t want to pick her brain about it; neither did he want to talk to anyone within her clan of dragons. It wasn’t that he was worried about the word coming back to her – that he’d been talking to them behind her back – he just didn’t like them and didn’t care for their opinions either. Levi was determined not to let CC know he was headed for Boston though. He knew what she would do given the knowledge and he couldn’t have her following him around like a bad smell, causing problems, drawing questions – drawing swords for that matter. No. CC had to stay in the dark about his dealings. Besides, it wasn’t like he was never coming back.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Levi reclined into his chair. There were few options ahead of him and even fewer people to consult with, leaving him with no other choice than to call for his driver to take him back to his suite at the hotel. He would pick up whatever he needed and get a ticket booked for Boston immediately. He couldn’t delay; there were finite hours left in the night for him to have his apartment sun-proofed. Levi wasn’t going to risk getting caught in the sun so he’d call ahead to some of his contacts in Boston to do the dirty work for him. They would undoubtedly ask a lot of questions, but being capo, Levi didn’t need to answer them. His position afforded him a few liberties and considering the broken government of the Patriarca, he was pretty confident that none of this weirdness would get back to Nicoletti; most of the men hated him after all. All Levi had to do then was stay conscious long enough to get a call back from Lucchesi and find out when he was to meet the sour old goat.

Levi’s plane touched down in Boston some few hours after take-off; and barely three hours before sun rise at that. For the most part, Levi had been preoccupied with a number of business deals – he’d just gotten Levitan Consultancy off the ground and it was surprising how many people needed his kind of specialised waste disposal services. Still, he hadn’t failed to notice an email or two coming in from his very impatient sire. The communications were standard check-ups, but Levi didn’t have the patience to write back. It was like the closer he came to Boston the less tolerance he had; an amazing fact considering he had very little patience to spare on a normal day. In one instance where his temper had gotten the better of him, Levi had kicked out at a table, putting a sizeable dent in the steel rod that held up the brick-hard board. His security, Barzetti and Caro, had looked to him with varying degrees of concern before Levi had scowled at them and told them to mind their own business. The rest of the journey was quiet after that and it wasn’t until they were pushing their way through check-outs that the uncomfortable silence was broken.

Barzetti put his hand on Levi’s shoulder, directing the angry Vampiro’s attention to the doors where a blonde man was waiting. For a moment, Levi thought Lucchesi had been put in too high a wash and came out shrunken, but as they got closer, Levi could see the many hundreds of differences. The man wasn’t much of a man at all and was still, in fact, just a teenager. He wore an Italian suit – his grandfather’s from the look of it – and had gelled his dirty blonde hair back to match the outfit. Entrust it to the Patriarca Mafia to make the world run like it was 1922. Levi growled as those hazel eyes looked him up and down before a small, pink hand struck out from the slate grey suit.

“You’re D’Amico?” the boy asked.

Levi didn’t take the offered hand. “And you’re…”

“Foraldo, Dino Foraldo. The boss sent me.”

Levi smirked; the boy still had his hand out. “He sending children to do his dirty work now?” Levi asked, though he wasn’t intent on sticking around for the answer and began heading for the door.

“I’m 24!” the indignant cry followed after him.

“Whatever.”

There wasn’t much point in standing around and chatting – the hours of night were fleeting and he still had to make it across the city to his apartment; it was the only place he felt remotely safe after all. Stepping out into the brisk Boston air, Levi unconsciously paused. The city pretty much looked how he’d remembered it; a mixture of dangerous beauty working under a civilised air while secretly just trying to pull itself through the next couple of seconds. Boston smelt the same too; engine oil sloshing uncomfortably with harbour air and 2B pencils. He didn’t know why he expected anything to change, but maybe because he’d changed, he imagined that his perspective would have shifted things. It didn’t. If anything, he was just more aware of how stale this place was.

“So why are you here?” Levi finally asked Dino.

The blonde looked up. “I told ya, the boss sent me.”

“Yeah, and I ain’t deaf. So tell me why he sent you.”

“Oh, well, I got a message from Lucchesi. He got you a meeting for tomorrow night, like you wanted. He said you should be there at 8.”

“Great… So where is there, bright-eyes?”

Levi watched Dino frown as if he’d just been asked the sum of the universe. Could this kid really have forgotten one of the two things he’d been told to pass on? Un-*******-believable. What had Lucchesi so strapped for time that he had to send this idiot in his stead anyway? Levi growled, resisting the urge to grab the brat by his grandfather’s collar and hoist him over a taxi.

“Uh,” Dino stammered. “It was at a restaurant, I just don’t remember which.”

“You’re ******* kidding, right?”

It was bad enough it was at a restaurant – where it would be considered rude not to eat with the don – but it was even worse that he didn’t know which ******* one. If Levi was late or didn’t show, he was a dead man and all because of this good-for-nothing kid.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you live?” Levi growled under his breath.

“Merda, wait,” Dino said, backing away to get some distance from those burning umber eyes. “I remember now, alright! Lucchesi said to meet at a restaurant, but the boss said he’d rather have you at his house.”

Levi felt his men’s eyes on him and he didn’t have to turn to look at their frightened faces to know what was what. Dino had glanced at Barzetti and Caro, coming back to Levi with that same dumbstruck expression as before.

“Why? Are you hungry? There’s a little place up town that—”

“They pull you out of the river or something?” Levi grumbled, moving toward a black car behind the elephant-like stomps of his men.

Dino hurried after them, positioning himself behind the bulk of Caro who’d opened the door to the backseats. “Hey, D’Amico. Anyone ever tell you you’re a miserable ********?” the boy asked with a grin as Levi was seated.

“Plenty of times,” Levi said with an honest smile. “And most of those fuckers are dead.”

Caro didn’t hesitate to close the door, creating a dark glass barrier between him and the kid. Still, nothing could darken that boy’s glimmering joy. He was really proud of himself for getting that crack off at a capo and living with it. Levi just smirked to himself, taking his phone from his jacket pocket and letting it absorb his full attention. This was good, because Levi was done speaking to Dino about two seconds after he’d opened his mouth and had, for one moment, been considering a revenge tactic for that remark about him being a miserable ********. Now that the car was pulling off and he was busy making a phone call to his contacts that had been preparing his apartment, he’d totally forgotten that Dino had even entered his life. Levi was funny like that. Sometimes, even the smallest, pettiest things could have him blow up and it didn’t matter who you were – the chances were likely that you’d be getting shot for it. And then again, there were times like this where you could pop a shot at him and he’d just completely ignore the entreaty. It was any wonder people were always on edge around him; he wasn’t exactly Mr Predictable.

For the rest of the night, things went to plan. Levi’s hired help had done what he’d ordered them to do, and as far as he was aware, not a word had leaked back to Nicoletti. Caro and Barzetti, along with a few of Levi’s Boston-based soldiers, guarded the perimeters and interior of The Ritz-Carlton Tower accompanied by several more official guards. Long before he’d even had this Vampiro curse, Levi had had his apartment reinforced with bulletproof glass and shielding for the doors, the only other modifications he had made since were industry-strength blackout shields for the windows. If anything, his apartment in Boston was safer than any hotel he’d been in so far and he’d managed well enough with them. The staff at the Tower never really bothered him because their pockets were being lined healthily enough that no action would ever get passed the enquiry stage. They asked what was going on, they were told to mind their business, dollars were shoved their way and that was the end of that.

The Ritz-Carlton Towers were located in the heart of downtown Boston, soaring over 35 stories. With the Back Bay Fens on one side and the harbour on the other, Levi had an impressive view out of his floor-to-ceiling windows that lined each side of the building; and the interior wasn’t too shabby either. The contemporary condo had extensive upgrades, including a custom floor plan and Smart Home technology; it was the perfect bachelor pad. The marble foyer led to an expansive living room with soaring ceilings and an adjacent formal dining room, gourmet kitchen and breakfast room – all with new White Oak hardwood flooring. The walls too had a fresh coat of white paint throughout, creating that luxurious open-space living experience. There was a master bedroom of course and two spacious spare rooms, one of which had been converted into a home office as the other became a library, but each one had an adjoining bathroom with marble bath and shower suites. Typically, the décor was modern too with sharp angles and lines and bold, solid colours. There was a lot of black, white and shades of grey in his furniture; colour being reserved for the artwork.

As stunning as the apartment was, Levi barely ever spent time there. His work was demanding and he rather liked it that way; he always had something to do, something to keep him busy, something to challenge him. Basically, the more he did the less worthless he felt and his ego wouldn’t tolerate uselessness. This curse of narcolepsy he had for whenever the sun rose made him feel partly worthless because no matter what he tried, there was no escaping or explaining it. He might not have gone to college, or even high school for that matter, but he’d learned enough in books and from the internet to get a grasp of even the basic sciences. Maybe he could stand to learn more, but maybe the well of Human science just wasn’t deep enough to crack into the waters of truth; perhaps the answer was supernatural in nature. Unfortunately, to learn anymore about that required him to dig around in Harper Rock, maybe make some useful contacts besides CC, Prudence and Ken. Just thinking about them though made his stomach turn so Levi decided it was time to stop thinking. He turned the lights out, enforced the shields, the locks, the security system, and then took to bed.

The sun would rise in a matter of minutes; he could already feel the pull of torpor. After stripping off, he laid himself down beneath the sheets, turning on his side with eyes closed. The room’s heating had been cranked up as high as it could go and the dry heat felt especially warm across his cold, bare flesh reminding him of nights in Italy. Long years separated him from his home land, but he still remembered how the sun used to set, burning the sky tangerine; the same colour as the rooftops of every building in Verona. He remembered the dark times too, and the cold, with winters that always came too quickly. They were predictably cold and humid, spreading a ghostly fog across the countryside which lingered between dusk and dawn. In those winter nights, their stone house was warmed by a fire – even though they had central heating and could easily afford it. There was just some kind of basic and wholesome joy to be had in the scent of black pine as it burned, prompting memories of stolen Christmases secreted in their loosely Jewish household. With the pleasant thoughts in mind, Levi was able to doze off soundly and the morning that followed passed him by like a silent second.

Click for The Ritz-Carlton Tower apartment

When night came, Levi woke to the sound of his mobile phone. Since it was on vibrate, the phone whirred atop the bedside cabinet creating a sound reminiscent of a bumble bee trapped inside a glass jar. Levi snatched the phone before rolling onto his back to answer it. He was still half asleep and hadn’t bothered to check the caller’s ID, so when he heard a woman’s indistinguishable voice on the line he was immediately convinced it was CC. He growled into the receiver that he would call her back then hung up, tossing his phone across the bed and into the sheets. He wasn’t actually going to call her back though; when he’d picked up the phone he’d caught sight of the time and knew he’d have to leave soon. Levi had just over an hour to get washed, dressed and prepared for whatever was going down tonight; he could deal with CC when he was back at Harper Rock.

Nicoletti probably figured he had Levi’s balls in a vice, but he had no idea how much of a mess the Patriarca was in. The old fashioned don ran a tight ship which was too tight for some. No official word was getting back to The Commission about Nicoletti’s dealing because he shot the complainers down the minute they even dared to gape their jaws; nipping the problem in the bud like that though wasn’t winning him any favours, which made it easy for Levi to amass a following against him. They weren’t strong enough to form a coup, but they could certainly hold their own against Nicoletti’s loyal cortege, and that was all Levi really needed. He didn’t like the idea of personally replacing Nicoletti; especially now he had this whole other portion of his life to manage. As much as Levi lusted after power, demanded respect and relished control, he was also swayed by freedom. Being the Patriarca Family head might have granted you the authority to basically run a city, but it was also a guaranteed ticket to prison or hell depending on how many people you pissed off on the trek up to boss-mountain.

Levi had to drag himself out of bed and under the pounding spray of scalding shower. It was hard to find the drive to be able to tolerate the **** he knew was coming. He could see it all unravelling quite clearly in his mind because they were all so ******* stupid and predictable. This whole night was about Nicoletti thumping his ape-like chest, but the man was so heavy-handed that the only thing he was going to achieve was punching in his own ribs. If Nicoletti wanted an update, all he had to do was make one of his underlings pick up the phone. Levi wasn’t a million miles away and after the incident with Levi’s father, William, it wasn’t like he trusted Levi enough to give him anything more than the most basic roles in spite of his position. Sure Levi had his own businesses on the side that the don never knew about – something which was a sin in their world – but Levi didn’t think for one second that any word of them had finally gotten back to Nicoletti. It wasn’t just Levi’s reputation keeping a gag on everyone that worked with him after all, Shiro’s involvement certainly helped keep them all too scared to rat.

Turning the faucet off, he stepped out of the shower and headed back to his bedroom to dry off and get dressed. He was caporegime, a high-ranking made member of the family with a crew of his own as well as some major social status and influence in the organisation, so he dressed the part. In fact, there was rarely a day that he didn’t dress in a tailored suit with a tie, a leather belt with a heavy metal buckle, loafers, and a pair of gun holsters. Being capo generally meant that he didn’t have to get his hands dirty, but Levi wasn’t going to let his guard down because of that. He always carried two guns with him – his father’s old pair, each with full clips – not to mention a knife, just in case. This night was not going to be any different and Levi had decided, if push came to shove and he was all out of options, he would employ his supernatural gifts to make sure he came out on top; even if it meant killing every single Patriarca member along with every contact he’d ever made. He didn’t want it to come to that, he didn’t want to live as an immortal in hiding, he really didn’t want there to be no place else to go but to CC.

Pulling on a heavy black blazer to hide the belt and shoulder holsters, Levi left the room, left the apartment and met his armed guards at the door. They escorted him downstairs to the building’s foyer and promptly out the doors into a waiting, unmarked vehicle. Just a few yards after pulling off, four similar unmarked cars with Levi’s men inside, threaded in from the streets; two cars pulled in front as another two pulled up behind. As they got closer to the drop off point, the first vehicle drove ahead as to scout the area. When it came time to pull up the ostentatious driveway of the custom-built, shingle-style manor home, another vehicle tailed off leaving just Levi’s car and two others to make an appearance. They parked alongside rows of ominously expensive vehicles, but didn’t get out right away. Levi leant forward to consult his driver and henchman.

“Say, he throwing a ******* party or something?”

The men shrugged their shoulders, the man in the passenger seat adding, “I ain’t heard anything about a party, boss.”

Levi frowned and sat back. “Nothing about a sit-down either?”

“No, boss.”

“Initiation that I don’t know about?”

The men shook their heads.

“Well it can’t be all these fuckers missed me so much they came down to say hello while I’m in town.”

“That mean you ain’t staying in Boston?”

Levi set a glare on the man, a glare that said quite frankly: None of your ******* business. The man turned around and stiffened in his chair; Levi smirked to himself.

“I guess we go in and find out for ourselves, don’t we,” Levi paused, looking to each one of them. “You lot ready?”

Following a succession of nods, mumbles and gun flashing, they exited the vehicle. Just a few strides up the gravel path and the rest of Levi’s men had exited too, falling in behind their capo. It was a little flashy, but that was how these things worked. When they got to the front door, two of Nicoletti’s soldiers eyed them up before letting the pass into the foyer where another ten soldiers were marking the perimeter. At this point, Levi’s flock eased up and began to drift away from the centre like melting snowflakes. With the wall of muscle dispersing, Levi walked ahead into the reception room on the right and finally got a view of the people that were standing around with him. He recognised a lot of faces – both personal and professional – and he nodded in greeting to them. He tolerated the odd few that pushed his comfort zones and shook his hand and welcomed him back, even despite his growing frustrations because he couldn’t see Nicoletti, Veltroni, or Lucchesi.

Pushing his way into the centre of the room, it quickly became apparent that there was some kind of meeting or event about to get underway. Every capo and associate and friend of the Family was here, dressed to impress, and including two faces that he didn’t expect to see in general let alone standing together. Levi frowned as the pair of obsidian eyes smiled and the warm browns looked Levi over with a bit of disdain. Nevertheless, the brown eyed man, Gino Valachi, approached, taking Levi’s hand in both of his. Levi saw the soft grimace in Gino’s features as they came into contact; he also couldn’t help noticing how the size of their hands weren’t so different anymore.

“Welcome back,” Gino said. His voice always understated and refined; a perfect British accent with only the whisper of Italian.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you.” Levi said before his eyes made their way around the broad shoulders of the man in front of him to Shiro. “And you.”

The Japanese man stepped forward to join them and at that point, Gino let Levi’s hand drop back to his side.

“So you’re both fresh off the plane from better places, huh,” Levi said. “So why are you here?”

“Nicoletti had us invited,” Gino said, speaking for himself and Shiro, much to the other man’s annoyance. Levi watched those eyes flick across the room and back again making Levi reveal a smirk. “Though, he wouldn’t tell us why,” Gino finished.

“So you just dropped everything and came over?” Levi asked.

“Yes. Once I’d heard you would be here.”

Levi frowned, unable to take that as the compliment it was meant to be.

“I heard you were setting up shop in Canada,” Gino said. “I would swear you told me once that you hated the cold.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a long story attached to that decision. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“I hope so.”

Umber eyes turned on obsidian then; Shiro wasn’t normally this quiet, just like he wouldn’t normally stand next to Gino Valachi: Mala Del Brenta’s former consiglieri, or counsellor, who was still in the business of providing counsel as well as armed support to many Family Fathers. The most reputable act of Gino’s profession was, after all, deciding who needed to be shut up permanently, so it was strange to see one consiglieri meeting with another, more restrained and passive consiglieri.

“So what have you heard?” Levi asked Shiro, encouraging a frown.

“About this? Not a lot. If it makes you feel any better,” he said, dropping the volume, “this whole scene seems too flamboyant for a… discharge.”

Gino smirked. “Maybe to you.”

Both men took the moment to glare at Gino, but the older Italian didn’t mind. He turned to collect a glass of red wine from the waiter who had stopped to their right, giving Levi the opportunity to lean into Shiro and whisper a command: “When this **** is through tonight, I need to see you.”

Despite the reservation in his features, Shiro nodded and Levi stepped back.

“So how’s Italy?” Levi asked, refusing the offer of alcohol which made the other two quirk a brow. “What?”

“You’re not drinking tonight?” Shiro asked looking dumbstruck.

“Not ill are you? I can’t say you look well,” Gino added.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Levi said through gritted teeth. “Don’t act like I’m a ******* lush.”

The two men smirked to themselves irrespective of Levi’s punishing stare. Levi decided that it was time to change the subject, distract these two observant sods from looking into his condition, but as he was about to open his mouth, some figures appeared out of his peripherals, coming to stand at the doors of the reception room. He turned to get a better look and as soon as he laid eyes on Nicoletti flanked by Veltroni and Lucchesi, the room darkened. Thinking it was just a part of the show, the audience silenced and turned to look at the man standing, silhouetted by the light from the foyer before the room lit up as normal.

Carlos Nicoletti, Don of the Patriarca Crime Family of Boston, wasn’t a tall man being shy of five-foot-six, but he was almost as wide as two grown men and had the presence of a bull. His features were sharp, having apparently collapsed into themselves, and left fissures in his skin. His deep-set eyes, once energetic and rich in his youth, had clouded over like scuffed marbles. His hair was swept over his head like a flat cap; jet black and mottled with silver. He wore a black tuxedo – the whole get up – the starkness of which highlighted his Café au lait, orange-peel skin. Carlos was a man that had aged, but he was not frail.

“Benvenuti a casa,” Nicoletti began; his hearty voice and strong Italian-American accent projecting easily across the room. “Thank you for coming. I am so glad to see you are all here and well. As you may or may not have heard, we have come together as a reminder of how trust, and loyalty, can make us all richer – not just in money, but in spirit too.”

Levi kept his eyes on Nicoletti and his men – they all seemed utterly ignorant of his presence, but of course they would pretend as much.

“We have much to celebrate – both personally and professionally,” he continued. “Your work, our work, has brought us all so much prosperity that we can welcome and give thanks to all those personal treasures this year. Our family will not starve this year,” he jeered, creating a wave of laughter and smirks.

“And with the retreat of the Mullen and Winter Hills, we can celebrate weddings, birthdays, christenings and such without threat. You know, the Manocchios have had a new baby girl, Christiana in May. And DiNunzio, isn’t your family expecting?” Nicoletti pointed into the crowd where a hand flagged his and the crowd’s attention. Everyone gave their applause as DiNunzio confirmed the boss’ story and Nicoletti congratulated him.

Levi zoned out as further names and their various congratulations were given. The speech itself must have continued for another five minutes and despite the praise of the crowd, Levi knew that at least half the faces were wearing masks. It was almost pitiful to watch a man flaunt his status and power when he had no idea that half the people he thought he had power over actually wanted to see him dead. Levi pitied him, but that didn’t mean there would be mercy.

“So please,” Nicoletti said, catching Levi’s full attention once again. “Raise your free glasses of champagne and vino to toast our great achievements as family, as friends, and most importantly, as a collective. Ti ringrazio tanto.”

There was a swell of applause; Levi even heard Shiro and Gino give a few sad claps. For a brief, unthinking moment, Levi felt the need to turn and chide them, but he held against the irrational emotion. In the end though, Levi did turn; his face a show of disapproval and contempt.

“What a load of ****,” he grumbled.

He shifted some, his eyes catching the glint of golden liquor fizzing inside glass chambers as a waiter dawdled past. If he could drink, he would have downed the whole tray. He heard Gino smirk and that ******** must have been watching his gaze because he heard the man’s voice crooning. “No. Not a lush at all.”

Levi growled, but said nothing.

“It’s funny how he neglected to mention your birthday,” Shiro said, drawing that umber glare. “Do you think he forgot or—”

“Maybe he knew better than to piss me off and mention it.”

“Well, I find that especially strange,” Shiro said with a light sneer.

“Go **** yourself, Jaws.”

“After you.”

“You two bicker like children,” Gino murmured into his wine glass.

“Yeah? Well you can go **** yourself too, old man.”

Gino didn’t seem fazed. “You are such a charmer…”

“Has he always been this way?” Shiro asked, looking to Gino.

“Yes. Levi has always had a bit of a temper.”

“A bit?” Shiro laughed.

Levi growled, keeping his low voice. “Yeah, keep laughing why don’t you. See what ******* happens.”

“And,” Gino said, directly to Shiro, though his eyes soon passed to Levi. “I have told him no end of times that his temper will see him ruined. There are only so many people in the world that will knuckle under and tolerate his behaviour… One day he will find the people that won’t.”

The menacing tone, which was likely a threat disguised as advice – a customary thing in Cosa Nostra – didn’t put Levi off from grimacing or rolling his eyes. Still, having no one else to talk to, Levi stayed where he was. Ideally, he would have one or the other; having them both here was a bit of a disaster, but he couldn’t very well get one of them to leave. It wasn’t obvious which would be the better company anyway. Shiro was an annoying son of a *****, but at least their banter kept him entertained and at the end of the day, Shiro was happy enough to submit – which was nice. Gino, on the other hand, was someone he would have liked some time to catch up with. They hadn’t seen one another in about eight years since Gino had moved his operations back to Italy. Then again, Gino was as arrogant as Levi and his superior position meant that Levi was the one left biting his tongue and holding the clip on his explosive temper. In fewer words – it was stifling to be in Gino’s presence.

“How long’s this ******* party anyway?” Levi rumbled after a few unsettling moments of silence.

“As long as it takes, I would imagine,” Gino said. “Have you somewhere better to be?”

Levi paused, answering in a low voice, “Any place is better than here.”

Levi eyed Gino then; he’d heard an echo of Lucchesi and he didn’t like it. In fact, it started him thinking about everything the man had said to him tonight, the kind of things he’d asked. The more Levi thought about it, the more his chest tightened. Why was Gino talking to Shiro? If there was even the slightest hint that the man was fishing for information, it was a bad sign. Paranoid or not, you didn’t want Gino Valachi asking questions about you. Nephew or not, you didn’t want Gino Valachi asking questions about you.

Straightening up, Levi looked across the crowd and then back toward the foyer. He needed to make an excuse to get out of here – or at least away from Gino. The best he could come up with was a mention of needing a piss, so he immediately began to push his way back through the crowds. By the time he’d reached the foyer and began to stomp his way down a corridor, he realised that he’d picked up a tail. Levi turned the corner briskly, waited for the footsteps, then grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him up against the wall.

After staring into those eyes, the pupils shining like polished obsidian, Levi eased the pressure giving the man just enough time to gasp. Still, Levi held him there a little longer before letting him go; a hard stare pressing how important it was to quit sneaking up on him. Shiro had a habit of that; he often employed his ninja-like stealth to catch Levi by surprise. The Japanese man was so light on his feet, his build being slender, yet discretely athletic; the emphasis of reticence and elegance having been moulded into his appearance. His sneaking might have had a high success rate before, but Levi’s advanced senses meant that even the slightest scuff of rubber soles on a parquet floor was as audible as a stomp. Even as Levi dropped Shiro onto his ninja feet, he could hear the other man’s heart beating like he’d once heard his own.

When Shiro was back standing, Levi stepped back to lean against the opposite wall. Shiro hissed like a cat and began grooming; smoothing down the collar of his black suit like it was sleek fur.

“You always have to take things too far,” he said through gritted teeth.

Levi continued watched Shiro, expecting the Neko to lick a paw and start rubbing behind his ears. He didn’t, but he had begun combing through his hair with slender white fingers, which was just about the same thing.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Shiro said, reading Levi’s questioning stare. “Is now not a good time?”

“Does it look like a good time?” he replied, keeping his voice low. “This ain’t exactly private territory we’re stepping on.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what you wanted to talk about was so important.”

Levi glared – everything he had to say was important.

“So, should I just leave you be?”

“I wasn’t actually going for a piss, ya know.”

“Well, I figured, which is why I followed you.”

“So catch me up on what you and Valachi were talking about earlier,” Levi said, changing the subject.

“Well, strangely enough, he was asking who I was, how was business and all that other crap,” Shiro said and gave a wave of his hand.

Levi didn’t comment because he knew the Shark wasn’t finished running his mouth just because he had to breathe.

“He did ask about you though.”

“Oh yeah? Anything specific?”

“Not really. The same kind of things – how you are, how’s business, when it was we last spoke...”

Levi crossed his arms, his right hand gripping his bicep just enough to smart. Though he didn’t have a reflection anymore, looking at Shiro’s expressions was kind of the same thing. He could feel his own frown tightening his brow, and he could see what kind of impression that made on the other man’s face when he saw Shiro’s brow wrinkle. The frown lines between his starched eyebrows gave Shiro’s visage a touch of maturity, but since he appeared so much younger than he actually was, this was in no way detrimental. That was the weird thing about Asians, Levi thought. They were apparently eternally young until they reached about 90, then they started to balloon out and wrinkle all at the same time. Shiro was three years younger than him, but he looked about ten years younger. Levi wasn’t caught up on the specifics of his Vampiro curse, but if it gave him that same kind of eternal youth – without the ballooning – Levi wondered how long he would be able to get away with it before turning to the make-up artists or turning away from the Family for good; the option of leaving the Family never really left his mind.

“He probably suspects,” Shiro said, breaking the silence. “But—”

“But nothing. If Valachi suspects, we’re fucked as it is. We’ll only be fucked harder the more he finds out and that ********’s like a dog with a bone in the dirt – can’t stop sniffing til he finds it.”

Shiro sighed and crossed his own arms, perfectly mirroring the man before him. The action gnawed on Levi’s nerves and he instantly dropped his pose to run a clawed hand through his hair.

“I’ll figure something out. I’ll have a word with him.”

“If you think that’ll help,” Shiro said.

Levi glared, dropping the subject. “Just head back inside,” he said. “Leave Valachi to me.”

With a nod, the man started toward the reception area and was followed shortly by Levi. He was about to enter the room when he noticed two of Nicoletti’s men advancing on him. Shiro didn’t seem to notice and melted into a sea of faces. Levi, however, stopped immediately, and as the men kept coming to either side of him, he gave them both sharp glances.

“Don Nicoletti would like a word with you,” murmured the man to his right. “Follow us.”

There were no ‘pleases’ or ‘thank yous’, the courtesy they expressed instead was letting Levi walk at his own accord. So long as he followed orders, followed them, they didn’t have to lay a hand on him. Levi understood these things as much as he probably hated it. He hated following the orders of people who he felt were beneath him. Levi could forgive these two, however, seeing as how they had a humble attitude about it – they were only following orders too. What he couldn’t forgive was those slowly soldiers thinking they had power just because they had the muscle to back up the don’s commands; that wasn’t their power, that was the don’s, and they needed to respect that. Granted, this particular don only needed public respect rather than the real kind, which was why Levi kept his trap shut and followed the soldiers to Nicoletti’s private office at the back of the house.

After a knock on the door, the three men entered. The soldiers dropped back to guard the door and Levi was left standing at the head of the room, his poker face holding despite the shock of seeing both Carlos Nicoletti and Gino Valachi side by side. Of course, the old man was sat behind his desk, but Gino was standing. He looked to Levi was a gleam in his eye that made Levi’s blood feel a little colder.

“Sit down, D’Amico,” Nicoletti told him; his voice a controlled rumble.

Levi took the chair before the desk.

“Is everything ok, D’Amico? Are you ok? Is our business ok?” The man paused, but he wasn’t pausing to let Levi speak. “Your attention is divided, D’Amico, and that’s worrying a lot of people. They say you’re not easy to contact, like you’re too busy to be contacted. Is that true?”

“Being busy is good for business,” he said flatly.

Nicoletti arched his brow, Gino discreetly rolled his eyes, and Levi’s patience was quickly dying.

“This would run a whole lot quicker if you just came out and said what was on your minds,” Levi said, his eyes switching from Nicoletti to Gino.

He knew it wasn’t a smart move, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from running. It was as if the usual anxiety that kept a lid on his true feelings had dispersed. It was almost as if he’d subconsciously accepted his fate with the Family and was tired of waiting to be shot. Fortunately for him though, Gino was willing to intercept.

“Do you have operations on the side?”

“No.” His poker face was legendary, but they never would have believed him.

“So what keeps you in Canada?”

“I already told you.” His eyes were on Gino, but his words were directed at the don.

“And you were already told that your work is in Boston, not Canada.”

“I was also told that I could work with the Calabrians,” Levi growled.

“And they disappeared, did they not?”

“I didn’t make ‘em disappear.”

“So what exactly happened?”

Levi glared. “I already told you that too. Did you tell the Commission or no?”

Gino sighed, blinking slowly. “I suggest you settle down,” he said calmly.

“Did the Calabria say it was me? Are they pissed and coming down on us?”

“That is not up for discussion,” Gino told him flatly.

“What happened with the Calabria has already been settled,” Nicoletti said, stunning his consiglieri into a frown. “This is why you have been called, D’Amico. They appreciate that the problem was caused by opposition in the north and has nothing to do with us. So, your work up there is through. You will return to Boston and cancel your affairs elsewhere.”

Levi wasn’t pleased with this outcome, and how could he be? He couldn’t cancel his affairs in Harper Rock even if he wanted to. Like CC was going to just let him walk away without raining fire down on them all and dragging him back – to hell with the consequences. He wasn’t going to let that happen and since he couldn’t control CC yet, he had to control these bastards instead. Nicoletti might have been an old man, but he was a wise guy; he saw the slightest flicker in Levi’s gaze and pounced.

“Is that clear, D’Amico? No more business in Canada. You come home to the Family.”

“That’s fine,” he said, lightening his mood. “I was about to close a whole new avenue of business for us with an impressive forecast for the year, but if you want me to close shop and come home, I can tell ‘em where to go.”

There was a long pause and Levi watched Nicoletti’s eyes change from sour to sparkling. “What are the numbers?”

“Last year they managed 10 mil without us. With us, I can see them doing 30 mil and we’ll be taking half the profits. As per usual,” Levi said before he paused for impact. “15 mil with little work ain’t anything to be sniffed at. And that’s just for the year coming. They just need more penetration, which, as you know, I can give them. You got anyone better who can make you this money?”

Nicoletti brought his laced hands to his chin, leaning over his desk. Levi watched him, but not too eagerly. As greedy as Nicoletti was, he was old-fashioned and was reluctant to change or even dip his toes in the water of change without asking a million questions. Levi knew also that Nicoletti didn’t trust him. Sure he trusted the Levi that was good with business, smart with his connections and both cautious and bold enough to make the better risks, but he didn’t trust Levi the smart-mouthed, unruly son of a ***** who often drew blew his top. Levi could almost see the indecision pulling Nicoletti apart, but he could be patient if he wanted to be. If he said anything now, he’d probably scare the old man off, better to wait it out and let the man fall into his way of thinking.

“What business are they in, D’Amico?” Nicoletti asked.

Levi sat back, a grin coming over him. “The usual, the profitable – taking money from the guys who don’t know how best to spend it.”

This was a subtle way of saying illegal gambling, but Levi had bigger plans than letting these folks run just your average racket. Sure, Nicoletti would get his percentage of $15 million, but Levi could help them earn a lot more than he’d ever give Nicoletti in the long run. Briefly, Levi’s eyes turned to Gino, who, as it happened, was still not wearing his happy face. Being left in the dark by Nicoletti concerning the Calabria had put him in a bad mood and Levi could practically see the level of the man’s loyalty to the don fall like a bar chart was put right next to his face. Funnily enough, seeing Gino in this poor mood put Levi in a great one, which only improved further when he saw the slightest smile on the don’s lips.

“Fine,” Nicoletti announced. “You can carry on with this project in Canada, but you will make sure you are more available to us. Whenever someone calls, Levi, you must answer.”

“Gotcha,” he said, before promptly remedying. “Sì. Grazie.”

Nicoletti gave a firm nod and with his palm parallel to his desk, dismissed Levi. “Go enjoy the party, D’Amico.”

Levi gave a slight nod himself and then left the room. Just as it was his way to do about half of what the don ordered: he was heading back to the party, but he sure as **** wasn’t going to enjoy it. He had to endure these people completely sober and if that wasn’t bad enough, Shiro was probably going to be there to talk his damn ear off the whole night. Damn did he need a drink.