Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

isn’t healthy. Not when I know that I won’t have any of that for myself.
Luciana clears her throat. “We’ll get you set up. Can you meet up tomorrow?”
I almost snort at the ridiculousness of her question. Where the hell else would I go? Instead of being a smart-ass, I clear my throat.
“I’ll be around. I’m still staying at the casino in one of the suites right now,” I admit.
Luciana’s eyes flash. It’s an unreadable expression and she wipes it off of her face before she replaces it with a smile. “We’ll come by and see you tomorrow,” she says. “Maybe Mia will come by and visit too?”
“I like Mia,” Lenora announces.
“You like everyone.” Chloe laughs.
Lenora wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t like Wynter,” she mumbles.
Luciana leans forward. “Nobody liked Wynter, not a single human on earth.”
I don’t ask who Wynter is. I’m not sure that I want to know and with the way they’re talking, I won’t ever have to worry about her. We part ways, I follow Lenora toward her SUV. I wave at all the other women, but I can’t deny that I’m happy to be heading back to the casino and my solitude.
Lenora’s driver, Enrico, is waiting close by. I don’t know where he’s been this whole time, but I have no doubt that he’s had his eyes on Lenora every single minute. He gives me a half smile and helps all of us into the SUV before he makes his way toward the driver’s seat.
The ride back to the casino is in silence. I’m glad. I need the quiet. As soon as the SUV pulls up in front of the unmarked brick building, Lenora reaches for my arm.
“I know that you’re going through a lot. Just believe me when I say that we’ve all been through it. Luciana and Nicola probably more than me. I fell in love with Carlo before I knew who he was. But they were raised in the life, they know more than I do about all of this. Take their advice, they are good women and they only want to help.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes slowly. “They didn’t have to choose between selling their bodies to the highest bidder or selling themselves into a marriage with a stranger. None of them are like me, but you’re sweet.”
“You don’t know their stories, trust me, you’re more alike than you think,” Lenora calls out softly.
I don’t look back. I head toward the door where Enrico is waiting for me. He dips his chin, unmoving as I approach. Tilting my head back, I look into his dark eyes.
“You will be fine, cara. Trust your gut on this, trust your gut on everything you do in life and you’ll be okay.”
“How do I trust my gut when I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen to me?”
He smirks. “Sometimes great things come from the unknown, sweetheart.”
MASSIMO
Walking into the small dry cleaner, I wonder why I didn’t get in on a business like this as an investment. It seems like an easy cash flow industry. People come in and out all day long. A fucking shitload of them. It would be a great way to personally launder money, too.
“Can I help you?” a woman asks from behind the counter.
She’s about ten years older than me, her dark brown hair pulled up into a messy bun, her face without makeup, worn and tired, but you can tell she was a beauty once. Probably could be again with just a touch of effort.
“Is Mr. Gallo around?” I ask, keeping my voice calm, low, even.
She arches a brow, her eyes roaming over me suspiciously. “Who wants to know?” she barks, sounding like a hard-ass.
My lips twitch and I take a step toward her. “A friend. Tell him Massimo Ferrucci is here to speak to him. Somewhere private preferably.”
Her body jerks and her eyes widen. Apparently, she knows who I am. Good. Maybe she won’t be a bitch to me anymore.
She dips her chin, then spins around and marches off toward the back. I don’t take offense, though it would be easy to do so. Instead, I take in the little cleaners. There are millions of clothes hung up one by one, neatly and sheathed in plastic bags.
“Mr. Ferrucci,” a man’s voice timidly calls out.
He’s the opposite personality of his harsh wife and I wonder how that works between them. I figure she is in complete control of their lives and he just lets it happen because it’s much easier than attempting to fight her about any of it.
Shifting my gaze to him, I take a step forward. “Mr. Gallo. Can we talk?”
He nods, then lifts his hand to call me toward the back. Following behind him, we walk into a small room that is decorated as a plain office. There is a small desk, a chair and a computer that looks as though he’s had it since the late nineties.
“How can I help you?”
“Luca tells me you refused to pay?”
He gulps, his eyes rounding. “You’re not shaking more out of me. I have been paying you people since I opened up my cleaners forty years ago. You don’t own my building, you don’t own anything. You come in here and demand money. It isn’t right. Maybe I call the police and let them know what you’re doing?”
I could blow up. Yell at him. I could threaten to kill him, but that isn’t the way Gavino operates. No, he wants people to agree to give him money, to offer it as if they are doing us a favor.
“Arnie, you already know that the police won’t do anything. Why would you threaten me that way? It’s insulting really,” I say.
Gallo inhales a deep breath. I can see his body tremble as he places his hand against the desk. “I don’t have this month’s plus another two percent. I cannot swing it.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Why?”
I don’t bother asking him again. Maybe I should, but I’m not that man. He’ll