Chapter 6 - Genevieve’s Revenge
In a private cigar lounge in the heart of Queens, New York, the air was blue with tobacco smoke and the scent of expensive anisette.
Lorenzo Lombardi sat behind a desk made of dark mahogany that had once belonged to a shipping magistrate in Palermo. He was seventy years old, with skin like dried leather and yellowed eyes that had ordered the deaths of more than fifty men during the consolidation wars of the eighties.
Genevieve sat opposite him, her silver dress from the gala replaced by a sharp black suit, her face hard with a venomous rage that had not cooled since she was thrown out into the Providence rain.
“He insulted our name, Father,” she spat, slamming her diamond-ringed hand against the desk. “He dragged me out of my own house through the mud because of a common maid. He threw away the dock contracts. He called our soldiers 'New York garbage.'”
Lorenzo didn't look at his daughter immediately. He clipped the end of a fresh cigar, lit it with a gold torch, and blew a long, slow stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
“Adriano Falcone was always too soft for his shoes,” the old man rumbled, his voice like stones grinding together in a bucket. “His father was a wolf. Adriano... Adriano thinks he can be a businessman with a conscience. He thinks because he has a few legitimate security firms, he doesn't have to pay his taxes to the commission.”
He leaned forward, his yellowed eyes fixing on Genevieve. “The Moretti family has been waiting for an opening in Rhode Island for five years. If Adriano has broken the alliance with us, he has no friends left on the board. We don't just take his house, Genevieve. We take his ports, his routes, and his skin.”
“And the woman?” Genevieve asked, her lips curling into a cruel line. “The widow? I want her to crawl back to West Virginia without her fingers, Father. I want her child to look for her food in the trash cans behind the Providence terminal.”
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Lorenzo waved his hand dismissively. “The woman is nothing. A leaf in the wind. I have already sent Silvio and twelve soldiers from the Brooklyn crew up Route 95. They will be at the Providence perimeter by midnight. Adriano’s captains are loyal to his money, not his soul. When the bullets start flying through those marble windows, we will see how much his 'honor' is worth.”
Genevieve smiled, her eyes reflecting the gold light of her father’s lighter. “I want to be there when the house burns, Father. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes his mechanic’s watch can’t stop a lead pipe.”
