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

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 37

An hour and a half later, we pulled off the main highway, navigated through a bunch of smaller streets, and wound up at an open-air café within sight of the Mediterranean.

Outside on the patio, a bunch of wannabe tough guys were sitting and standing around.

They were trying to look like badasses but not quite pulling it off.

To the average person, they were probably frightening – but none of them had the presence of Dario, Adriano, or Massimo. And they didn’t look one-tenth as scary as Don Vicari.

Plus, they were all dressed in tracksuits or clubbing clothes, with too-tight shirts to accentuate their biceps.

Super try-hard, super cringe.

In the center of the group was a smaller guy holding court. He was dressed in a black tracksuit with red and white piping on the sleeves and legs. He wore a wife beater under the unzipped jacket, although he probably shouldn’t have. It revealed his slight gut.

I could tell he was Don Vicari’s son just from the facial resemblance: the same vicious eyes, the same meaty nose. But he didn’t have a mustache, and his hair was buzzcut down to a dark fuzz on his scalp.

All in all, he looked like a cheap, two-bit thug.

How he acted towards me didn’t change my impression.

“Ahhh, here he is,” Rocco half-joked, half-sneered as Paolo and I walked up. “My new brother-in-law. Pop said you were pretty as a little girl. He wasn’t kiddin’, was he, boys?”

They all laughed.

“Better than being ugly as fuck,” I replied.

Rocco’s smile faded as he glared up at me. “You’re late.”

“What, did I hold you up from eating another pastry?”

The tough guys around him shifted uncomfortably. Apparently nobody talked back to Rocco.

“Funny guy,” Rocco said in a pissed-off voice. Then he turned to Paolo and tapped his Rolex. “What the fuck?”

Before Paolo could speak, I said, “That’s my fault. I ordered him to go see Rosolini.”

Rocco gave me a bewildered look. “Why?”

“My family’s originally from there.”

“That piece of shit town? My condolences,” he said with a laugh, and all his buddies laughed, too.

That pissed me off.

Partially because I kind of agreed with him –

But I wasn’t about to let him know that.

“My last name’s Rosolini,” I said coldly.

“Then I’m doubly fuckin’ sorry,” Rocco said with a grin. “Must suck to be named after a shithole.”

All his buddies laughed again.

I smiled. “Well, we can’t all be named after child-molesting, wannabe priests.”

‘Vicari’ was Italian for ‘vicars,’ which were lower-level representatives of the Catholic church.

There were a couple of scattered laughs from the dumber thugs –

Until they realized Rocco was pissed, and they shut the hell up.

“What did you just say?” Rocco asked, his nostrils flaring.

“Oh – I thought we were just having fun. But sure, if you want me to say it again: we can’t all be named after – ”

Rocco shot to his feet, his chair scraping on the concrete, and stomped over to me.

I had to stifle a smile.

Dude was 5’3”. He didn’t even come up to my chin.

I soooo wanted to reach over and rub his head like I would a little kid –

But guns might get pulled if I did that, and I didn’t have a gun.

So… not a good idea.

There was silence from all his friends as Rocco glared up at me, his chest all puffed out like an angry rooster.

Then he gave a dead-eyed smile. He was obviously copying his father, but Rocco couldn’t quite make his look as unnerving.

“You’re a real joker, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Sometimes.”

“You like bustin’ people’s balls, huh?”

“Only if I know they can take it.”

That last comment was totally calculated on my part.

that he

he couldn’t take a joke – and I knew he wouldn’t want to admit

was a master of verbal judo, and I’d picked up a few

and reacted

he said with a grin to his buddies,

was trying to build bridges, I figured I should meet him

bad, because you’re late. Late fuckers don’t eat, they go straight to work.

not trying to

down to make himself look like

to be

stayed behind.

a bunch of introductions. “This here’s Tony and Santiago – also your new brothers-in-law. They’re married to my kid

after

Star, listen up and watch the

he

from shop to shop, laughing and jabbering as they went,

and his friends entered a restaurant or shop, the owners immediately tensed up, like they were

Nothing bad happened, though.

Not at first.

spiel was pretty much the

gonna be seein’ him a lot in the months to come, so memorize the face. Now where’s my

cash. Rocco would count it – moving his lips like he was too stupid to do it in his

hit 15 shops,

got more and more nauseated as time

like I was trapped in a shitty movie, forced to watch a bunch of douchebags play

rewrite the movie. I wanted to reach over, tear the money out of Rocco’s hands, give it back to the shopkeepers, and deliver a little speech: These assholes won’t be back again – ever. Keep your money. Spend

I knew that was a good way to earn myself

his minions. I was pretty sure they were all show, and that I could take them with the

Vicari’s hardened foot soldiers were

Dario was

more drugs, no more human trafficking, no more prostitution,

some pushback from Niccolo and Roberto, but he held fast, and we’d gotten out of the dirtiest

were still outlaws

didn’t prey on the

Don Vicari

were shaking down hated them for

all of this ill will for what – a

fair amount of cash for the shopkeepers, but it was chump change for

family made ten

Don Vicari was richer than us, why bother with this penny ante

was this was the way Don Vicari

least there wasn’t any

the shopkeepers couldn’t

place that sells t-shirts and stuffed animals with

in his 60s. Grey hair, glasses, dress slacks,

us enter the shop, his face filled with

called out in a chipper voice. “It’s your

of tourists looking at metal paperweights of the Colosseum – two sunburned women

the old man said to the women in

answered in an American accent. “But it’s

English. “We need to confer with our

“But – ”

DI QUI!” Rocco roared at the top of his

women understood Italian, but

bolted out the door without

man. “So, Nazzareno

please…”

what?” Rocco asked, turning his head slightly like he was hard

don’t have your money this

what?” Rocco asked

know he was expecting

was all a

to make an example

tightened with

Nazzareno whimpered. “I’ve had

the fuck do I care about your wife?” Rocco

a bunch of knick-knacks onto the

a pistol, I would have gunned

crying. “I have to close

somebody, you

to hire anyone – no one wants to work for what I can pay –

about your problems, Nazzareno. I only care about my fuckin’ money, and this is

of t-shirts hanging on the wall. Dozens of shirts collapsed

terror at the guy who’d torn down the display, then

do to people who’re late?” Rocco asked

Vicari – I can give you everything in the cash register,

not gonna be enough, is it?” Rocco said with

tabletop of snow globes

spilled over the floor

hurriedly opened the cash register and held out a handful

Then he dug coins out of the register and held them

could finish counting, Rocco slapped his hand and sent the