Mafia Kings: Valentino: Dark Mafia Romance Series #6 by Olivia Thorn

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 36

I nearly had a heart attack when the brass alarm clock went off at 4:15.

Fucking Don fuckin’ Vicari –

After I slammed the fucking clock so it shut up, I thought about staying there in bed for a few minutes longer…

But I remembered the mafia don’s warning:

We don’t take kindly to lateness or laziness around here.

Besides, my heart was racing so hard after having a goddamn cymbal factory wake me up that I decided to just get going.

Since I only had a bathtub, I did a quick once-over with a washcloth. Then I dressed in slacks and a white linen shirt, took the copy of Milk and Honey with me, and made my way groggily down the hall.

An old servant lady was in the kitchen. It was pitch black outside, but she was already hard at work getting breakfast ready for the family.

She’d prepared me a plate of cold cuts, cheeses, grapes, and rough brown bread. Not exactly a fancy breakfast, but it tasted good.

More important was the strong coffee she’d brewed in a metal pot. The kitchen didn’t have a fancy espresso machine, but the oily black liquid she’d fixed was twice as strong. I was wired by the time I finished my second cup.

Just as I was finishing up, a clean-shaven guy walked into the kitchen. He couldn’t have been any older than me. He had jet-black hair and was about my height with a wiry build – maybe not super-strong, but definitely not weak.

He wore a cheap black suit like Don Vicari’s guys at the hotel yesterday, but he styled his hair very carefully with gel.

“Hey, boss, you good to go?” he asked.

“You my driver?” I asked.

“Yes I am. The name’s Paulo.”

With just that little exchange, Paulo was more talkative than 95% of the other Sicilians who worked for Don Vicari – and a hell of a lot friendlier.

“Cool, I’m Valentino. Let’s do it,” I said as I stood and picked up the book of poetry. Then I told the kitchen lady, “Thanks for breakfast.”

She just nodded silently and went back to work.

Like I said: talkative.

Paolo led the way outside, where a black Alfa Romeo SUV was parked on the gravel drive. Over the scrunch of the rocks beneath our feet, I heard a familiar sound clanking far away in the darkness.

“Are those cows?” I asked, astounded they would be up that early.

“Yeah. The fuckers never shut up,” Paolo said. “‘Scuse my French.”

“Speak French all you want,” I said as I got in the front passenger seat.

Paolo looked at me in surprise as he got behind the wheel.

“I’m not a little old lady you need to fuckin’ chauffeur around,” I told him.

“Alright, then,” he grinned, and started the engine.

We talked as Paolo made his way through the winding roads in the hills.

We were both a little wary of saying too much – especially about his employer and my future father-in-law – but I found out a lot about the family operation.

“Rocco’s basically the capo of the south side of Sicily,” Paolo explained, using the word for ‘boss’ that described a Cosa Nostra leader just below the don and consigliere. For instance, Adriano was capo of Florence. “His brothers-in-law Tony and Santiago work for him. You met his sisters Abriana and Marcella yesterday, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, recalling the don’s other two daughters. “Work for him doing what, exactly?”

“Ahhh, you know,” Paolo said evasively.

“No, I don’t.”

Paolo glanced over at me. “Word is you’re from another family.”

He meant another Cosa Nostra family.

“Yeah, so?”

“So… you know.”

I sighed in exasperation. “Our operation was mostly bribing judges, cops, and politicians.”

“Oh.” Paolo smiled tightly. “Well, this ain’t that.”

“What is it, then?”

“Collections, mostly.”

meant protection rackets.

“From who?”

mostly. They take a cut from

Great.

Vicari was old-school mafia, and so was his son Rocco… which meant they did all the old-school shit that people

I told you that, though,” Paolo said

play stupid,”

“Uhhh… he’s… interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

paused for a second, then said, “What we say in the

“Absolutely.”

say Rocco’s got a

man syndrome,” I

“Exactly.”

was short, and he felt the need to

Good to know.

really three hours to where

“‘Fraid so.”

said as I pulled out Milk and

the book. “Huh. Didn’t figure you for the

I sighed. “But Isabella

the Don’s daughter. She’s

that way,” I

Paolo

at him like, You didn’t

did an arranged marriage, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said grimly.

thought that shit went

“So did I.”

you thought you were gonna have an easier life marrying her than getting up at the buttcrack of dawn and driving three hours to

admitted.

and was instantly surprised. Not by the poetry itself – but that Isabella was reading it. It had some pretty hardcore feminist stuff

stuff into the house that Don Vicari

in the house and didn’t even know

like ouzo, a Greek

it, but I’m not a fan. And I definitely

got sleepy, put the book down, and reclined the

take a

for it, boss,”

engine and gentle vibration from the car, I was out in just a

Kings: Valentino:

The sun was sparkling over the Mediterranean as we sped down a highway with

out?” I asked as I

“Maybe an hour.”

even close yet, are

little more than halfway. We just

now I

about all the times

heart ached, and I would have given just about anything to be beside her

her would’ve been

though. I’d memorized her number a long time ago in case

I borrow your

winced. “Sorry, boss. That was the one thing they

answer, but it pissed

“‘They’?” I asked.

he clarified. “Which

Don Vicari

my boss’s boss’s

then added, “What happens in the

dick off

I can see where the fuck we’re going? I have no idea where Pozzallo is, how big it is, or

I can do that much. But seriously, don’t go callin’ or texting any chicks, okay?” he said

“I won’t,” I grumbled.

the one thing I really wanted

in our destination and looked at the map. I saw that Pozzallo was on the southeastern coast of Sicily – a sleepy little beach

the blue line to see what else we would pass

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.

“What?”

“Rosolini’s on the way!”

me a weird

My grandfather

“Huh,” Paolo said noncommittally.