hed, as he turned the knob to his father's office. Walking in he heard his father talking to Roco, his youngest brothe

ng as his brother only wore a suit when in their father presence. Everyone knew that he would leave the suit jacket in the front hall closest on his way out. His normal attire usually cons

er jacket that was hanging on the arm of the chair he was recently occupying. "I will let the bad boys

s head. No one ever understood why Roco insisted on wearing his l

flipping off the group

and looking around the room at the other men who were

of all bosses, within the Italian Mafia. He was also Vincent's father. Most people feared him, but Vincent and most of his close family knew when it came to them, he was nothing more than

ck. Francesco still styles his in the same pompadour hairstyle that he had been since he was a teenager. Vincent's on the other hand, was faded on the side, but long on the top. No matter their differences, Vincent tried to be like his father as much as he could, but he kn

ousin for his excitement. "I apologize, Cousin," he said, cracking his knuckles before walking

on't be having any more problems with the Morandi

g up an entire warehouse full of their product was just what they nee

s went as planned. They, like everyone, were more than a little terrified when things did not. "I'm telling you boys, I am feeling more and more secure in the fact that my s

he same time as Domenico stood before saying,

or advisor. He was killed during an attack when Domenico was five. With his mother having died during childbirth, Vincent's parents had taken him in and raised him as if he was th

st in the air as if he already was. Francesco looked at hi

row, "Idiota," he brea

g intimidating when they were working, but whenever it was just the family he