The next day, Luca dropped Mathilda off at school and then headed straight to the Bronx, calling Jimmy to meet him. They agreed to meet at the club that was on the verge of bankruptcy.
"I've already spoken with the owner," Luca said.
After they met, Luca briefly laid out his plan.
"I'll transfer $600.000 to you first. You'll handle the acquisition process. I'll move the remaining funds over in stages."
This represented roughly 80% of Luca's available cash flow.
Jimmy said it wouldn't be a problem—even if Luca wanted to use his name and identity for the acquisition. Jimmy already carried more than one liability on behalf of the family.
Whenever family members opened businesses or invested in real estate, they appointed others as legal representatives. They would never appear publicly themselves. The boss stayed extremely low-profile; aside from advisers and the underboss, very few people had direct access to him.
These were all buffer layers. Taking down one wouldn't implicate the others.
Jimmy had even heard rumors that some families used puppet bosses—figureheads—while the real power players remained completely unknown. It showed how structured and disciplined the Mafia's internal system was compared to ordinary gangs.
"Luca, what's your long-term plan for the club?" Jimmy asked. Ever the businessman, he added, "I can introduce some members to you."
"Put together a list first. I'll review it later," Luca replied with a smile. "Of course, you'll be a permanent member. Full access to all services."
Since Jimmy was already taking risks on behalf of the family, he deserved lifetime VIP status at the very least. A C-rank card, minimum.
Luca's words drew a knowing smile from Jimmy. He didn't care much about membership perks. What mattered was Luca's recognition.
Luca was young but already a made man, with an impressive track record, deep pockets, and real capability. The probability of him rising to senior leadership within the family was high. And once that happened, Jimmy's formal induction into the family would be a matter of a single word from Luca. The boss had the authority to sponsor anyone. Sicilian blood? That wouldn't be an issue at that level.
Jimmy felt confident in his judgment.
"Good. The club will include an underground casino," Luca continued. "Start recruiting skilled poker players. They need to be good enough to control the room."
Right now, the most popular card game in the United States was Texas Hold'em. There were countless variants, along with blackjack, baccarat, slot machines, and roulette.
Las Vegas hosted the World Series of Poker with massive prize pools. However, future federal legislation would argue that luck outweighed skill in Texas Hold'em, placing serious restrictions on online poker platforms. Some states might even prohibit commercial casinos from running it.
Friendly competition was fine. Organized gambling? Not so much.
In New York, private card games were legal—but organized gambling operations were not. No official casino licenses had been issued. Everything in this space operated illegally.
Jimmy understood perfectly.
There were dozens—maybe hundreds—of underground gambling spots across New York, backed by the Mafia or Russian groups. Some well-connected officers even played there.
"Leave it to me," Jimmy said. "I know a few strong professional players."
He was thinking of the guys he could never beat, no matter what. That wasn't just luck—that was skill. Sometimes he even suspected they were cheating.
"Also, staff the club properly," Luca added.
Waiters, chefs, bartenders, cleaners, security, drivers—hire them normally. Clean records, reliable, competent.
But department heads? Those had to be their people.
"It has to be someone trustworthy," Luca emphasized. "Either a family associate or someone with a clean and verifiable background. No hidden agendas. Understood?"
"Understood."
As they were about to part ways, Jimmy paused.
"I still don't know the club's name."
"SSR Club."
---
That afternoon, Luca went to Wall Street.
He was there to make money—and, incidentally, to meet the Wolf.
There was a brokerage firm on Wall Street called Stratton Oakmont. The name itself might not ring bells everywhere, but its founder did.
Jordan Belfort.
On Wall Street, everyone knew him.
Forbes had nicknamed him: The Wolf of Wall Street.
Jordan had once helped a company go public, generating $22 million in just three hours.
Was that legal?
Jordan's response: "It has to be fucking illegal!"
That incident triggered an FBI investigation.
But what shocked the entire financial world was what followed.
While under investigation and surveillance, Jordan could have paid a few million in fines, resigned, and walked away from the brokerage business.
Instead, he openly defied regulators and stayed.
The FBI had no choice but to escalate the investigation. They were determined to put him behind bars.
The federal government wanted the money Jordan had siphoned.
Luca wanted something too.
Jordan himself.
At minimum, he was an A-rank card.
Possibly S-rank.
What kind of outrageous skills would he have?
Inside Stratton's headquarters, chaos reigned.
A heavyset man stood on a desk in the lobby, holding paperwork in one hand and a trash can in the other.
"The U.S. government sent us a subpoena?" he shouted. "This is how Stratton handles subpoenas!"
He tossed the document into the trash can. Then, in front of a roaring crowd of employees, he urinated into it.
"Fuck America! Fuck you!"
He raised his middle finger—then, recalling something from earlier news coverage, yelled again:
"Fuck America!"
"Fuck America!"
"Fuck America!"
Dozens—maybe hundreds—of employees joined in, middle fingers raised, the room vibrating with madness and reckless energy.
Even though Luca had prepared himself for this culture, witnessing it firsthand was surreal.
There was something raw about it.
"Fuck America!"
Luca joined the chant, raising his own middle finger as he walked through the crowd.
The company culture was on full display. Some employees were cold-calling clients. Others were openly using drugs. Some were engaged in extremely unprofessional behavior.
Luca moved past them and walked to the innermost office.
Through the glass wall, it was clear enough: Jordan Belfort and his secretary were engaged in conduct completely inappropriate for the workplace.
__________________________________________________________________________
[Character Card Discovered: Jordan Belfort (Unlocked)]
[Jordan: SR]
[Source: The Wolf of Wall Street]
[Skills: Bewitching; Nerve Paralysis; The Wolf of Wall Street]
[Bond: Strangers]
__________________________________________________________________________
Luca waited politely for ten seconds after Jordan finished, then knocked.
"Come in!" Jordan shouted.
Luca opened the door. The secretary stood up from the floor, hastily adjusting herself. When she noticed Luca's sharp features, she shot him a flirtatious glance.
Jordan pulled up his pants and looked Luca over, clearly noticing he might be even more striking in appearance.
"Who are you looking for?" Jordan asked.
Luca reached into his coat.
Seeing that movement—like someone reaching for credentials—Jordan immediately assumed FBI.
"Are you kidding me?!" he snapped. "Didn't I say I'm cooperating? You want a statement? Financials? Here!"
He bent down to grab paperwork and was about to throw it—
Then he froze.
Between Luca's fingers was a gold coin.
Currency from the Continental.
Someone of Jordan's status recognized it instantly.
He thought of the two executives who had recently been killed.
Is this my turn?
"Get out," Jordan said grimly.
The secretary tried to intervene. "Sir, please leave—"
"Not him. You," Jordan snapped. "Get out."
She left quickly.
Jordan turned back, face serious.
"You from the Continental? What do you want?"
"When a hitman from the Continental shows up," Jordan continued quietly, "it's usually to kill."
Luca flicked the coin into the air. It spun once, gleaming under the office lights.
He smiled faintly.
"This time, it's the opposite."
"I'm here to help you."
===============================================================================
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Btw, i'm on leave at Sunday, so no chapters.