Page 15 of Sweet Prison

I lean forward. “You report every single thing to me, no matter how minuscule,beforemaking any kind of decision.”

Nuncio winces, but keeps his composure. “The vacancy rate throughout the Greater Boston region is high, and I didn’t want to risk losing existing tenants, Massimo. The market has been on a downward spiral since last year.”

“Then find a way to make our properties more lucrative! Hire some bimbo and run ads of her doing Pilates in one of ourcondos or some other shit. I want the rent rates up to last year’s level, and I don’t give a shit if you need to put up a billboard in the middle of Back Bay to get it done.”

Nuncio blinks, then quickly jots a note on his notepad. “Sure.”

“What about our catering operations?” I ask.

I’ve invested a lot of money and leveraged considerable connections to get the “eyes- and ears-off” treatment in this fucking place. The guards are paid to kill the camera in the room when I have a visitor, but I still don’t take chances. I always use code when discussing illegal operations with my stepfather. Our illicit drug business is referred to as “catering,” and each product has its own stealthy label. I even had Nuncio set up a legitimate catering company to act as a front business, eliminating any possible suspicions.

“Steady profit margins there,” he says. “The demand for chicken has increased slightly in the last couple of weeks. We may need to find another farm because the current supplier is at maximum capacity.”

“Good. It may be prudent to research suppliers in the South. I’ll have a word with a friend, and he’ll arrange for someone to contact you.”

Nuncio stares at me, clearly confused.For fuck’s sake!How is it that his adolescent daughter got a handle on my coded language from the start, despite my very limited directions through my letters, and this fool can’t find his way with a compass and a map?

“South, Nuncio,” I clarify. “The small-scale organic chicken farm we considered a few years ago.”

It takes Nuncio’s brain another second to catch on that I’m referring to a Peruvian drug cartel. We mostly get our cocaine, a.k.a. “chicken,” from Colombia.

“Oh. Yes, that sounds good.”

“While we’re on the chicken… I got word that you’re considering adding drumsticks to the casinos’ snack menu.”

Nuncio’s face pales instantly. He leans back and stares at me with wide eyes. Well, well… My little spy was right. Hewascontemplating allowing drugs in my casinos. Even with the rage coursing through my veins, my lips curve into a smile. That girl is a menace.

“I see.” I nod. Then, I slam my handcuffed hands on the metal table. “Don’t you dare even think about fucking with my business ever again!”

Nuncio flinches in his chair, his body going stiff with tension. Years of having the Family kiss his ring and dance to his tune seem to be getting to him. Every now and then, my stepfather forgets who is actually in charge around here, so he comes up with stupid ideas. And then, he needs to be reminded of the reality.

With my hands clasped and resting on the tabletop, I pin him with my stare. “Don’t make me do things I would rather not do, Nuncio.”

Beads of sweat cling to his hairline while I continue glaring at him.

Having my stepfather prance about as the head of the Boston Family while I’m locked up is convenient. Once I’m out, he will officially transfer the reins to me. This arrangement is much more advantageous to him than fighting me for what he knows is rightfully mine, and it alleviates the need for me to tussle with other small-minded fools later. But I have noproblem removing him from the picture now if he doesn’t follow my orders. And Nuncio knows it.

Dropping his gaze to the notepad before him, my stepfather slowly nods.

“Glad we sorted that out. How are the girls?”

“They’re fine. I’ve been looking into potential marriage matches for Nera. Do you want me to choose, or maybe you already have someone in mind?”

“And what does Nera think of the idea?”

“She threatened to go dancing through City Hall Plaza naked if I make an arrangement for her hand.”

A small smirk pulls at my lips. I remember her being bullheaded when she was little. “Cease all marriage efforts for now.”

Nuncio meets my eyes. “I didn’t expect you to care for Nera’s wishes.”

“Of course I do. We are a family, after all.”

In truth—I don’t give a fuck. But she is Elmo’s sister, and it’s only because of that I’m willing to consider her feelings on the matter. At least until marrying her off suitsmyneeds. Then, I’ll send her marching straight down that aisle, singing and smiling, as she’ll be told to do.

“See you next Thursday.” I motion with my head toward the door on the opposite wall, signaling to Nuncio that our meeting is over.

I wait until he leaves, then meet the gaze of the CO uncuffing my wrists from the restraint ring welded to the table. He’s one of eight guards on my payroll. “I need to make a private phone call.”

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