Carmine Lazio

Carmine Lazio cuts an imposing figure at 6’1. He's built like someone who’s spent his life between the gym and the street. His jawline is square and muscular, softened only by dimples that appear when he smirks. Carmine favors the gesture as much as he loves to make wisecracks. His lips are full and heart-shaped. They often tug into a half-smile that looks equal parts charming and threatening.

His jet-black hair is always slicked back and styled high. Pale blue-grey eyes lend his stare an icy gaze. The sapphire orbs stand out against his olive skin and obsidian hair.

Carmine’s broad chest is covered with thick hair that spills out when he wears his track jackets open. His stomach is tight and carved into hard abs. His body comes from discipline alongside a touch of vanity. His arms are thick and muscular. Sleeves cling to his biceps no matter what he wears.

He favors expensive European track suits. They’re baggy enough to conceal anything he’s carrying, but tailored tight enough to show off his frame. Minimal jewelry can be seen on his wrist or neck. He tries not to wear anything too gaudy. It's just enough to remind you that he’s got money and taste.

His voice is heavy with bass, yet articulate enough to sing crystal clear notes. His words are unmistakably flavored with his Queens, NY upbringing. There’s a melodic quality in the way that he stretches vowels and clips consonants. It's the kind of New York accent you can hear from across a crowded room. It makes his threats sound casual and his jokes sound dangerous.

Carmine Anthony Lazio was born into the life, even if he once told himself he wouldn’t be. He is the son of Donatello “Papa” Lazio, who ran Lazio family operations from Italy. His uncle is Mikey "Coconuts Lazio, responsible for operations on the Atlantic seaboard of the United States. Carmine’s path was practically paved before he ever set foot on the streets. Growing up in Flushing, Queens, Carmine thought maybe he could run parallel to the family’s world instead of inside it.

After high school, he picked up honest work in construction. There he learned how to operate heavy equipment. He was strong, dependable, and the kind of guy everybody wanted on the crew. While working with his brother Mikey at 19, the veil lifted. One day on the job, a coworker led him off-site to “take care of something.” That something turned out to be a body. Carmine didn’t flinch. He used his equipment to help dig the grave. When he washed the dirt off his hands later that night, he knew he wasn’t walking the straight line anymore.

From then on, Carmine was tapped for cleanup work. It suited him. He kept a low-profile, remained dependable, and always placed a wisecrack to cut the tension. By twenty-two, he’d proven himself enough to become a driver. He was good behind the wheel, but even better at listening. Carmine always kept his mouth shut. Around that time, he also got himself a cushy no-show job as a “guest relations specialist” at one of the family’s Atlantic City casinos. The title didn’t mean much, but the position gave him access to top members of the family and omertà leaders from allied crews. It also started him down the road of managing family businesses in the future.

Carmine’s humor carried him far. He was the guy who could lighten the mood during a sit-down. His lines were so smooth that even the boss often cracked a grin. But at twenty-four, the jokes ended for one man. An associate in the Lazio crew had grown sloppy. Tony "Two-Step" had a big mouth and even louder social media accounts that paraded private business outside of the circle. Orders came down, and Carmine carried them out. The hit earned him his bones. The execution cemented his place as a made man.

Since then, he rose through the ranks to become a top soldier. The "guest relations” gig was promoted into a marketing executive slot. Family members paid foreign students to complete online coursework in his name to stack up degrees. By twenty-nine, Carmine boasted a master’s in business administration, at least on paper. His team of students was working toward others. He used his street smarts and charisma to supplement his resume.

That combination made him the perfect candidate to expand the Lazio reach into new territory. The South Side of Chicago, not far from the lakefront, was about to become home to a sprawling Lazio project. A towering casino and hotel with a strip club at its side were nearing a grand opening. The casino itself gleamed within two golden glass towers. The complex was a temple of wealth and power. The strip club next door flaunted neon trim, crafted in the shape of a pyramid. The name they gave it fit the swagger of the family: The Gilded Pharaoh. Carmine Lazio was named Casino Director. The kid from Queens was now the public face of the Lazio empire’s new jewel.

Behind the shine, the work was gritty. The Lazio family is in the process of trying to cement ties with the Marino family. Lazio crews are prepared to take some heat by off Marino crews by cleaning out rival gangs in Chicago. It was the kind of dirty work Carmine had been raised for.

Beneath the bravado, his heart carried something else. Around women, he softened. The Lazio code drilled respect for women into him. For Carmine, the feelings ran even deeper. He craved love, intimacy and the comfort of being held. To those who got close, it was almost like another Carmine came out. Tough as he was, his heart still beat like a man searching for more than money and power.