Page 77 of Texting My Mafia Boss

I sigh darkly.

“This is about what Ruggero did to her parents, the sharking operation.”

“This is about it all. Going after my daughter. Her parent. Two innocent people died. And her aunt was so terrified, she didn’t dare to reach out to her. Mara spent her whole life thinking she had no family, feeling unwanted, like she belonged nowhere, because of that scumbag.”

Mark scratches his twice-broken nose. “There’s every chance Don Malaspina and Don Rinaldi will refuse to sanction a murder on him.”

“With what we’ve gathered?” I snarl. “With the attack.”

“Our proof isn’t bulletproof. It relies too much on people keeping their word. Lately, I’m starting to lose doubt in that.”

“Either way, he dies,” I grunt. “He’s not walking out of that meeting alive.”

“Then you’re potentially signing our death warrants.”

I pull the car over at the side of the road, turning to my underboss and my consigliere rolled into one, a man I should be closer with, a man I’ve always kept at a distance because we’re both cold pricks focused on this cold world.

“This is your chance,” I tell him. “You can walk away right now. I don’t want you walking into a possible execution if you’re that terrified of the headsman.”

He looks offended. “I’m not going anywhere. If we die, we die. Your family will be safe. Our men will keep their word. A new house. A new life. New identities. And me? Hell, there’s a reason I stayed single.”

I’m about to start the car again when I hear banging from the trunk.

“See?” Mark grunts. “Too much of the human element in this. Too much uncertainty.”

I pop the trunk, then leave the car. When I pull it open, Bastian is staring up at me, his face bloody and broken. “Please,” he wheezes, and I know there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe something is right. Even after what he did, part of me feels sorry for the wreck. “Please.”

I take out my gun and push the barrel against his head.

“Remember what I told you,” I snap. “Do what you’re told, and there’s a chance you’ll live.”

“What chance?” he whimpers.

Zero.

“A good one,” I lie, giving away another piece of my soul.

I just have to hope there’s enough left for when – for if – I return to my family.

We’re back in the smoky room, but we’ve all got backup this time. Ottavio is chain smoking as usual, and Cesare is sitting upright, like he wishes he was the businessman I was able to make myself through sheer hard work and force of will. Ruggero sits in a black suit, a black tie, wearing a black onyx ring. He thinks he’s in mourning for his nephew. He doesn’t have any idea his nephew is alive, in my car outside, and that’s the way I want it.

I glance at Mark, who raises an eyebrow, which means,Bloodbath if this goes wrong. He’s right. I’ve got Mark, plus fourof my men with me. There are at least thirty of us packed into this tight room, all packing.

I sit at the edge of the table, on the opposite side to Ruggero.

“We’re here to discuss the unfortunate series of events which occurred yesterday,” Cesare says.

“Hmm,” Ottavio mutters. “A Calvi-led attack, or a rogue hyena with his own little crew?”

“I resent the accusation,” Ruggero says, his voice artificially heavy. “My nephew attacked alone, the foolish, foolish boy. If I’d had any idea?—”

“Shut up, Ruggero,” I say.

“Easy, Ettore,” Cesare cautions.

“Any Don whose closest relative launches an attack on a rival Family – with that Don havingno fucking clue– is a weak, useless nobody who doesn’t deserve to run a Family.” I look at his men, all of whom are known to me, and all of whom would run his Family better than him. “Being Don means controlling your men. Being the head of a family means stepping up when the time is right. Being Don means seizing on your chance.”

One of his captains, a grizzled veteran of the life, Corrado Vescari, stares at me for a moment. It’s common knowledge he runs at least half of the Calvi empire. He’s a man I can imagine working with.