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 could take

pissed off, then he was showing he couldn’t take a joke – and I knew he wouldn’t want to admit to

moment, I had to give him credit. He was a master of verbal judo, and I’d picked up a few things from watching him over the

the bind he was in and

grin to his buddies,

to build bridges, I figured

you’re late. Late fuckers don’t eat, they go straight to work. Now let’s

to

down to make himself look like a

going to

stayed behind. Lucky

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

stopped listening and just nodded after Rocco

and watch the pros do it.

money,’ he

to shop, laughing and jabbering as they went, acting like it was

restaurant or shop, the owners

Nothing bad happened, though.

Not at first.

much

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

was too stupid to do it in

shops,

got more and more nauseated as time went

to watch a bunch

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 it on your

that was a good way to earn myself a

was pretty sure they were all show, and that

hardened foot

I clearly saw what Dario was trying to do when he took over after Papa

no more drugs, no more human trafficking, no more prostitution, no more extortion – all things Papa

Niccolo and Roberto, but he held fast, and we’d gotten

we were still

we didn’t prey

Don Vicari and

everyday people they were

all of this ill will for what –

cash for the shopkeepers,

our family made ten times

than us,

only conclusion I could come up with was this was the way Don Vicari kept his idiot son and his dipshit

there wasn’t

of the shopkeepers couldn’t

that sells t-shirts and stuffed animals with ‘I

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

as he saw us enter the shop, his

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

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

said to the women in broken English.

accent. “But

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

“But – ”

QUI!” Rocco roared at the top of

Italian, but they

out the

old man. “So, Nazzareno – where’s my fuckin’

please…” Nazzareno

asked, turning his head slightly like

your money

what?” Rocco asked in fake

he was expecting this all

was all

make an example of the

tightened

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

I care about your wife?” Rocco

arm to rake a bunch

pistol, I would have gunned

said, nearly crying. “I have to close the shop when I take her

hire somebody, you

one wants to work for what I can pay –

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

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

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

people who’re late?” Rocco asked in a low,

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

it’s not gonna be enough, is it?” Rocco said

a tabletop of snow globes crashing to

and water spilled over the floor in a

cash register and

can give you eighty – no, a hundred!” Then he dug coins out of the

finish counting, Rocco slapped his hand