Love and War 2 (5 page)

Caprice nodded at the first words Pamela had spoken to her.

“Yeah, you look like you’re on vacation.” The locks chirped. “Get in,” Pamela ordered. “We’re going shopping.”

Caprice did as she was told. Pamela maneuvered the SUV through the parking deck and onto the main road. She looked at Caprice again as they pulled to a stoplight.

“Your father tell you about me?” Pamela asked.

“He told me that you’re good people and that you’re going to help me get this casino built.”

Pamela laughed. Her easygoing laugh put Caprice at ease.

“Your father is a man of few words. I’ve always liked that about him. Too bad he was so stuck on my cousin. We could have had something special. Let me tell you what he didn’t,” Pamela said.

“I am an Ivy league graduate. I have a Harvard MBA. I’ve opened casinos in Las Vegas, Atlantic City, and the French Riviera. I’ve worked for the Santangelo’s, the Lucchetti’s and the Gambino’s. I am the best at what I do, and I’m at the top of my game. I didn’t get here looking like
Fuck Me Barbie
either. We’re going to get you some new clothes.”

Caprice crossed her legs. She thought her bright dress fit right in with the fun atmosphere of Atlantic City. She resented being called
Fuck Me Barbie
, but she didn’t say anything to Pamela. She would quickly see that she was much more than a bad bitch, as Aries had often referred to her.

Pamela continued to talk as she drove towards Caesars. She talked just like she walked and drove…fast. Caprice found it difficult to keep up.

“At four o’clock today, we’re going to walk into a room filled with horny old men who would rather fuck you than give you a dime of their money. Domani would never have the problems with investors that you are going to have. I cannot have you walking in there looking like a pin up girl.”

Caprice rolled her eyes. She didn’t look like a bimbo, as Pamela was suggesting. She looked like a college educated twenty-two year old woman with great taste in clothes.

“I’m not unfamiliar with board meetings and investors,” Caprice informed her. “This isn’t my first time to the rodeo.”

Pamela gave a smart little giggle. “You’re talking about that little cosmetics company that you have in Miami? I’m talking about a two hundred million dollar casino. Don’t ever try to compare the two. When you’re as big as Covergirl, then we can make comparisons, okay?”

Caprice’s mouth snapped shut. The words “two hundred million” made her suck in her breath. Two hundred million dollars to build a casino in Atlantic City? What the fuck? She decided not to say anything else unless she was asked. One of the last things Domani had said to her was,

“
Don’t give Pamela any of your shit. Just shut up and listen
.”

Besides, the sound of two hundred million dollars was still swirling around her head, making her speechless.

Caprice spent the next three hours in the Michael Kors store at The Pier Shops trying on skirts, blouses, and jackets and trying to remember all of the names and credentials of the investors as Pamela fired them off. For the first thirty minutes, every dress or skirt that Caprice chose was met with a stern disapproving glare from Pamela.

“No pink! No yellow, no orange! You’re not in Miami! Gray, black, navy, cream, white…those are your colors,” Pamela had yelled from across the shop. “More Olivia Pope, less Basketball Wives, understood?”

When Caprice had changed into a solid black fitted blazer and matching skirt, with a sleeveless silk blouse, Pamela smiled her approval. As Caprice admired her new look in the mirror, she remembered something Diesel had said to her, before their world was turned upside down.

“
You look like the next CEO of Bank of America
.”

She certainly felt like it. And the five grand worth of new clothes were definitely CEO clothes. She made arrangements for her new wardrobe to be delivered to her condo. She and Pamela headed to the Taj Mahal for their dinner meeting. They were twenty minutes late.

Pamela talked and Caprice listened as they walked into Robert’s Steakhouse.

“First thing,” Pamela advised, “never be on time with this group of men. They’re all assholes who think they’re more important than they really are. Show up late to let them know you don’t give a shit about their time because your time is more important than theirs will ever be. The only time you’ll need to meet with the entire syndicate is when something is wrong.”

“And something is wrong?” Caprice guessed. “This isn’t just a ‘meet the new boss’ kind of meeting, is it.”

“Correct. Make no mistake; this casino isn’t being financed by banks and billionaires. Domani handpicked this group of investors. The deals he made weren’t done with lawyers. I’m talking handshakes and titty bars, and for the last few months there hasn’t been a Bonatelli here to keep the cash flowing. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Caprice nodded her head. She knew how Nico and Domani handled people who didn’t keep their word.

“We’ll go see the site and go over the contracts we actually have tomorrow. Tonight, we get these jackasses in line. Capiche?”

“Got it.”

Despite Pamela’s bluntness, Caprice liked her. The more she listened, it became evident that Pamela knew her shit.

Caprice and Pamela walked side by side to the back of the restaurant to a private dining room. In similar black suits, they resembled mother and daughter. Pamela opened the door to the dining room and allowed Caprice to enter first.

Gathered around a long table were fifteen of the wealthiest criminals in New Jersey, ranging from mid-thirties to practically Fausto’s age. They were already working on their appetizers after deciding not to wait for the women. There were no empty seats and none of them offered Pamela and Caprice a seat or a glass of wine. They continued to talk like the women weren’t even there.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Pamela said loudly. “Sorry we’re late. I had to get Ms. Bonatelli acquainted with the build site and the work that isn’t being done because of you all.”

“Get over yourself, Pamela,” one of the older men said while reaching for a basket of bread.

“Leo,” Pamela said, “carbs aren’t good for your heart. We can’t have you dropping dead before the casino is built, now can we?”

“Where is Domani?” the old man asked.

Pamela eyed Caprice which Caprice took as a signal to speak up. It was time for her to sink or swim. She took a few steps towards the table group of men and cleared her throat. She stared at the group of men until the silence became uncomfortable and they were forced to pay attention to the young lady standing in front of them.

“To answer your question, Leo, my father isn’t here. But I am and that’s the extent of what you need to know. The Capri is getting built and you committed to finance this project. I expect that you will keep your word.”

“Young lady,” the dark haired man sitting next to Leo said, “we gave our word to Domani. When he gets back from wherever he is, we’ll honor it.”

Caprice smiled politely. “I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name.”

“Sergio Peretti,” he answered.

“Nice to meet you, Sergio,” Caprice said sweetly. “What were you saying about my father?”

“I said, our word was given to Domani, not two girls in suits. When he gets back, we’ll cough up the dough.”

“Well, Sergio,” Caprice said, “that’s not the way it works, now is it? You gave your word to a Bonatelli and you will keep it now, not when my father returns.”

“Tough talk coming from a broad who didn’t know who her father was until a few years ago. Word is Domani is on the run from the IRS. He may never come back.”

Caprice stopped smiling. “My name is Caprice. You can call me whatever you want outside of this room, but it will be better for everyone if you stick to Caprice when I’m around. Furthermore, it doesn’t matter where my father is or when he’s coming back. I’m the captain of this ship now. You don’t want to play with me.”

Sergio and a number of the other men laughed. “Is that a threat? Coming from you? A girl barely out of diapers?”

Caprice took a deep breath and steeled herself. She was getting angry. There’s no way in hell any of them would have spoken to her father like that.

“I don’t make threats,” she answered. “I state facts. And here are the facts. One, construction on The Capri will resume within the next seventy-two hours. Two, I will have your agreed upon payments in hand within twenty-four hours. And three, not having the cash in my hands in twenty-four hours will result in dire consequences. These are the facts, gentlemen.”

“You are well acquainted with my father and how he handles his business. My father and I are very much alike, only I’m younger with a hell of a lot more to prove. Do you want to take that risk?”

For several seconds, the room was completely silent. Sixteen pairs of eyes watched her as Caprice stood perfectly still; her eyes dark and cold like her father’s. She couldn’t tell if anyone at the table had taken her seriously so her mind was already thinking of a way to show these men not to fuck with her.

“Well,” Pamela cheerfully broke the silence. “I expect we’ll be hearing from you gentlemen within twenty-four hours. Enjoy your meal. It’s on us.”

Caprice and Pamela strolled out of the private room, trying to keep their laughter at bay. When they got in Pamela’s car, she howled with laughter.

“You are definitely Domani’s child! That was fucking brilliant! Where did you pull that ‘these are the facts, gentlemen’ line. It was absolutely great!”

“I don’t know,” Caprice admitted. “It sounded good though.”

“What are you going to do when one of them doesn’t come up with the money?”

Caprice gave the most logical response she could think of.

“Call my brother.”

“Good answer,” Pamela said. “Damn good answer. You’re a natural at this.”

Caprice sat behind a large wooden desk in a construction trailer pouring over proposals and payroll forms. The old air conditioner in the foreman’s trailer rattled noisily, but Caprice was used to it.

For two weeks, she’d been down at the construction site, watching every move the foreman made and learning. Pamela told her that she didn’t have to stay at the site, but Caprice felt otherwise. She needed to make her presence felt. Plus she had nothing else to do. Her friends were spread out all over the country, attending college or working. Her brother was in New York, and Diesel wasn’t answering her calls. She was alone.

Caprice heard a scuffle outside and smiled as the door of the trailer flew open and Sergio Peretti was pushed through the door. Mateo and Giovanni Caldarone came in behind him.

Sergio stiffened and straightened his suit jacket when he saw Caprice sitting behind the desk.

“Hi Sergio,” Caprice greeted the man warmly like an old friend. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again. Although, you are two weeks late for our meeting.”

“What do you want?”

“The one point five million dollars that’s due. I wanted it two weeks ago, if I remember correctly. You are slowing down my progress and some of my other investors are following your lead. I already warned you that I didn’t want that to happen.”

Sergio shrugged nonchalantly. He didn’t give a fuck about some little girl trying to play the boss. He made a deal with Domani to put up thirteen million dollars over three years. That was a lot of money to hand over to Caprice. Domani should have let Pamela build his casino. At least she knew what the hell she was doing. He, nor any other mobster worth their salt, was going to cater to the whiny demands of some teeny bopper.

“Listen kid,” Sergio, “you’re wasting my time. The deal is off the table until the Boss returns.”

Caprice grinned at her cousin, Mateo, who unsheathed a shiny hunting knife from inside of his jacket.

When she had explained to Nico that she needed some enforcement, he immediately got the twins set up in Atlantic City. After two weeks, their English was improving and they didn’t mind being with Caprice twenty-four seven. She kept them busy.

“Sergio, in case you haven’t been properly introduced, meet my cousins Giovanni and Mateo Caldarone.”

The arrogant smirk on Sergio’s face froze with recognition. The Caldarone family was well known, and not in a good way. They were the worst type of killers; the kind that had no conscience. They did what they did for money. Sadistic and borderline psychopaths...at least that’s what Sergio had heard about Mateo and Giovanni.

“Aww, you know them,” Caprice guessed. “Then you know that if you don’t deliver one point five million dollars by nine o’clock tonight, you will know what your own dick tastes like before you die, correct? I mean, how would your wife feel when your body is fished out of the Atlantic with your dick shoved down your throat. Quite embarrassed, I would think. So, let’s save her the embarrassment and give me what you owe. Then we won’t ever have to have this conversation again. Capiche?”

With the cold steel of Mateo’s knife pressed against his crotch, Sergio had no choice but to nod his head yes.

Caprice grinned. “Good talk,” she said. “Let’s not have it again.”