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reminder of which family held the most territory, too—the Marcellos.
    Then, there was the one major Vegas family who sat across from the Marcellos with the Chicago Outfit helping to fill up their side.
    Maximo Sorrento, or Max as he preferred, sat across from Gio’s father at the large table. The Sorrento Cosa Nostra was the third largest Italian crime family in North America. Maximo more than earned his seat on the Commission.
    Maximo was a good fucking boss. He ran his family hard with no questions asked and no excuses accepted. Gio would be ridiculous if he didn’t recognize all the good Maximo was when it came to being a Don for his family.
    There was only one thing Gio disliked about the Sorrento family. Or rather, one person. Maximo’s only son.
    “ Come stai , Gio?” Franco asked.
    Gio’s jaw twitched at his name coming out of that bastard’s mouth. “ Bene . You?”
    Politeness was a learned trait Gio’s mother had beaten into all of her sons, and he hated that this was one of those times when he had to be nice. There were too many important Mafioso there for Gio to tell Franco to fuck off.
    “Not too bad. The last few months have been interesting. Certainly active, anyway. I can’t say I’m particularly bored. Sorry I missed Lucian’s wedding. I heard it was … large.”
    “It was,” Gio replied.
    Dante sat beside Gio in silence. No doubt his older brother was as tense as a board and ready to snap like a live wire if needed. History was a great predictor of future outcomes. If history had anything to say about the past interactions between Gio and Franco … this would not end well.
    Franco Sorrento was a prick in the worst way. Entitled. Spoiled. Favored. Whatever someone wanted to call it, the man was it. Maybe Gio could handle his attitude if Franco would at least attempt to hide it sometimes. The guy tossed around his weight like he had a leg to stand on. Franco assumed his father’s history and more than deserved respect afforded him some leeway.
    It didn’t . That shit was earned. Franco had not earned his.
    Gio was five seconds away from reminding the asshole of that.
    Franco also had a bad habit of running his mouth to people he had absolutely no control over. In his own damn family that shit might fly, but it didn’t when it came to someone else’s. That behavior had been going on for as long as Gio could remember, though.
    Big time in Vegas didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot in New York.
    It was unfortunate Antony was as good of friends with Maximo as he was, because Franco was in serious need of being knocked down a peg or two ... or maybe off his pedestal altogether. Gio would gladly be the one to do that.
    “Stop acting like you’re going to jump out of your chair,” Dante hissed at Gio when Franco turned to listen to his own father speak. “Calm down, man.”
    Gio’s dislike of the man across the table wasn’t a big secret.
    “It’s a good deal,” Maximo told Antony. “Something new I’ve been trying, anyway. Your family dominates, so it’s only proper I offer you the chance to work it with me.”
    “I’ll think about it,” Antony replied. “Feels small-time, though. You know how I don’t dabble in nonsense like that. Little pay for a lot of work. I’d have to situate someone in Vegas for a while. I don’t know who I’d be willing to send down there, never mind how that would work with them being on your territory.”
    “But it grows fast,” Maximo said with a grin. “And we’d work out the rest of the little stuff like we always do.”
    “I’d try it. Or at the very least, send someone down to scope it out for a month or two and see how it’s working,” Paulie, Antony’s consigliere, told his boss. “If nothing else, only watching before putting cash in means there are no losses for us.”
    What in the fuck were they talking about again?
    Gio had been so focused on keeping his cool around Franco that he forgot to pay attention to the people speaking.