Page 24 of Nicco

“Yes, of course Mr. Bregoli.”

Nicco was being called Mr. Bregoli now. Stranger things had happened, but somehow this all just felt odd.

Dom was poisoned, and I had no idea what that meant. Did Nicco really think it was an inside job? Did someone close to the family murder Dom? I had no doubt he would find out the truth. I just didn’t care about it. This dangerous lifestyle was bound to come to a head. I didn’t know how much support I could give on something that I didn’t care about and didn’t really affect me. Once Dom was in the ground, I could go back to my old life.

I had checked out of the conversation. I started thinking about Bria as we walked out of the building to where the driver was waiting in the SUV to whisk us away. Once we were back in Chicago, she would probably leave this in the past. That’s what I was hoping for.

Chapter Ten

LORDES

Everything was happening so fast and today was the day I had to be present for the reading of the will. I was going to have to meet these Bregoli people. Nicco told me he didn’t know exactly what was in the will. He’d just known I’d been named as a beneficiary and had been left something of value.

I’d spent the entire day with Nicco and wasn’t sure why this meeting was happening at night, in some office building after hours. We all could come in one at a time and I wouldn’t have to see or meet anyone. Basically, everything could stay the way it had been for decades. Nicco was on the phone, and I was sure it had to do with Dom’s death.

I waited alone with Nicco in a huge conference room. By alone, I meant with some old guy that was the estate attorney for Dom and three burly bodyguards.

Dom’s attorney was called Pellegrino. He looked about sixty years old. He was wearing an expensive black suit and a very cheap-looking toupee. He kept coming in and out of the room with papers and no purpose. After about forty minutes of sitting and waiting, all the bodyguards left the room and people started to pile into the spacious room with comfortable chairs.

First person to make an appearance was a woman with long, dark hair. I didn’t have to be told that she was Nicco’s sister. She was the female version of him, dark hair, dark eyes, very Italian looking with tanned skin. This had to be Valentina Bregoli-Graziano. I’d known her name. Nicco mentioned her from time to time. I remember she was married with two sons. That’s all I knew of her, or all that I had remembered.

She was dressed in an all black with a bright red lip. She was in a long-sleeved fitted dress that seemed too hot for this dry desert heat. Valentina was much too slim. She was thinner than the women in Chicago, but she was well put together.

Valentina leaned to give Nicco a kiss on his cheek. She greeted Mr. Pellegrino at the other end of the table, then she took the chair on the left side of the table right next to her brother. She was siting directly across from me. I glanced around the room in an effort to not make direct eye contact with her. I could feel her dark eyes on me, making this even more awkward than I anticipated. She nodded in my direction, but she didn’t say a word to me.

The next person in the room was Vincenzo. He was the capo that ran Chicago. He had a reputation in the windy city. I’d only seen him in a picture with Nicco at the penthouse. He was wearing a black pen stripped suit. His hair was dark and gelled back.

I was really the black sheep of the family in more ways than one. I didn’t fit in here with my fair skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. I wondered if that’s how Bria felt when we were out together and she was the only Black person in the room.

Cenzo shook his brother’s hand. He hugged his sister and then sat in the empty chair next to her. The wise guy glared across the table at me. Unlike Valentina, I gave him eye contact. I was in the room with the notorious Chicago gangster, 50 Cenzo. I had to look at him and size him up. Something in his eyes lead me to believe he was a bit crazy.

Earlier in the day, Nicco told me Vincenzo was called 50 Cenzo because he had been shot five times. His story was nowhere similar to that of rapper 50 Cent, but being shot multiple times at a young age and surviving death gave him a moniker that most feared.

Minutes later, another person entered the room. She was a young girl with dark hair. She had a brief, whispered conversation with Pellegrino before taking a seat on my side of the table. She didn’t look at me, but she did look at Nicco. Everyone was quiet. Why weren’t we exchanging pleasantries? Did people in Vegas not have manners? Since I was new to the fray, I didn’t question the lack of small talk or decorum.

We were waiting for longer than I liked when I removed my cell phone and started texting my girl.

[I’m waiting.]

[For what?]

[Another Bregoli to show up at this meeting.]

[Oh]

I didn’t care for that response. I changed the subject. [Did you go shopping?]

[Yes. I bought a lot of stuff on your dime.]

I briefly smiled into the phone and stopped myself before anyone could see me.

[Whatever you want and need. You got it.] I text back.

[I want to leave here and go back to Chicago.]

[I want that too. It’s almost over.]

[Did your father leave you a fortune?]

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