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

Chapter 37

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.

implying that he

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

give him credit. He was a master of

in and reacted just like I thought he

said with a grin to his buddies, and

was trying to build bridges, I figured I should meet him halfway. “I could eat

bad, because you’re late. Late fuckers don’t eat,

to build bridges,

to cut me down to make himself

was going to be

behind.

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

listening and just nodded after Rocco quit talking. “Nice to

watch the pros do it. Time to make

‘making money,’ he

and jabbering as they went, acting like it was Friday night instead

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

Nothing bad happened, though.

Not at first.

was pretty much the same

brother-in-law, Movie Star. That’s what we’re callin’ him. You’re gonna be

too stupid to do

hit 15 shops,

and more nauseated as time

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

of Rocco’s hands, give it back to the shopkeepers, and deliver a little speech: These assholes won’t

knew that was a good way

they were all show, and that I could take them with

Don Vicari’s hardened foot soldiers

Dario was trying to do when he

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

he held fast, and we’d gotten out

we were still outlaws

prey on the

like Don Vicari

were shaking down hated

this ill will for what

amount of cash for the

before Fausto fucked everything up, our family made ten times more money than Rocco’s stupid extortion

was richer than us, why bother with this

was the way Don

wasn’t any violence

of the shopkeepers couldn’t

kind of place that sells

looked like he was in his 60s. Grey hair, glasses, dress

soon as he saw us enter the

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

were a couple of tourists looking at metal paperweights of

the old man said to the women in broken English. “Please, we

of them answered in an American accent.

said in English. “We need to confer with our friend here. You can

“But – ”

Rocco roared at

don’t think the women understood Italian,

the

back to the old man. “So, Nazzareno –

Vicari… please…”

his head slightly like he was hard of

your

asked

me know he was expecting

all

an example

tightened

been very sick, Signor Vicari,” Nazzareno whimpered. “I’ve had to

fuck do I care about your wife?” Rocco

rake a bunch

I would have gunned them

Signore,” the old man said, nearly crying. “I have to close the shop when I

somebody, you

no one wants to

Nazzareno. I only care about my fuckin’

asshole ripped down a display of t-shirts hanging on the wall. Dozens of shirts collapsed to the

glanced in terror at the guy who’d torn down the display, then looked back at Rocco. “I know, Signore, but

know what we do to people who’re late?” Rocco asked in

Signor Vicari – I can give you everything in the

not gonna be enough, is it?” Rocco said

of snow globes crashing to the

spilled over the floor

register and held

of the register and held them out,

counting, Rocco slapped his hand and sent the coins

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