Page 3 of Mafia Star

Matteo and I have been close since we were three and were old enough to choose one another to play with. We’ve been practically fraternal twins since the day we were born. I’m two-and-a-half hours older. We used to share a crib when our mothers visited each other practically daily. Luca and Matteo’s older brother, Emilio, were close until their falling out.

Once we really got into the family business, Maria sought her other friends because we could no longer involve her in the things we got up to. It was an adjustment back then— not having her around with her infectious laugh and ability to cause the most trouble and never get caught. I’m adjusting to this change in our relationships now that I’m the odd man out. Would it be nice to have someone to come home to? Someone to love and be loved by? Of course. Are my family members making it work? Definitely. Do I want to endanger a wife and children just because I might get lonely? Not a fucking chance in hell.

I don’t fault the others for finding their soulmates. I just won’t look for mine. I absolutely believe in them. My parents and aunts and uncles— except for Auntie Paola and Uncle Cesare —are proof they exist. I’ve known that my entire life. But that doesn’t mean I need to find mine. However, that’s small consolation as I climb into bed alone. I’m going to my club tomorrow night. I’ll fuck this maudlin shit out of my system.

“Where are we at with those fuckers?”

I jerk my chin toward the two men strung up in the garage. This isn’t some tandem residential space. This appears to be an abandoned commercial garage. It’s where we deal with the unsavory parts of our jobs. It’s where people walk in but never walk out. It’s in an Italian neighborhood where we either pay people well for their silence, or they’re smart enough to be too terrified to say anything. The guys are naked and hanging from hooks in the overhead door chains. We’ve been opening and lowering the doors a few inches to a few feet to coerce them. It must feel like their arms are about to rip through their skin. Not to mention the fact that I took pliers to their teeth earlier.

Matteo shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“They’ve given up as much as they know. Now we’re just punishing them.”

We purposely don’t grease any of the chains. The doors are the big metal ones that echo like thunder when they open and close. It drowns out the screams. As I look at the men, I know Matteo’s right. We know the men who kidnapped Aunt Sylvia are all dead now. We know they were men Maks hired afterwards for an unrelated job, and he didn’t know of their involvement. We don’t know the mastermind.

We know the man who arranged the mercenaries was beaten to within an inch of his life for a completely unrelated issue. The Triad may operate in China, but they have no qualms about settling scores with individuals here in New York. It was a bit bittersweet, though. The man, Robert Simms, targeted Chelle for her connections to our family and the Kutsenkos. Simms attempted to wage his vendetta against Pasha Kutsenko through Chelle. We thought they’d killed him, but he survived. Motherfucker.

That’s a prime reason why I don’t want to bring an outsider into this world. There are Mafia daughters I could consider, but I’ve never been interested in anyone from the families who work for us. I’ve known the women my entire life. I even messed around with a few in high school. But if I were to marry, I’d want a life to come home to that’s separate from work. Since work is family and family is work, there’s no way to separate them. Hence why I won’t marry.

But fucking hell. I’d still love to strip Elizabeth naked. Lick every inch of her. Make her beg to get off. Then thrust my cock into her and make us both scream. I need to focus on what Matteo’s still saying.

“I can’t help but think this is an inside job. How else would they know how to get into Uncle Sal’s house? Do you think Pia and Natalia know about the tunnel?”

“No. Uncle Sal barely used the house before he and Aunt Sylvia got married. We may have played hide and seek there, but he didn’t even remember about the bootlegger’s door until Maria mentioned it. I doubt the girls are playing down there.”

Our cousins are ten and twelve. Uncle Salvatore was in his forties when he married Aunt Sylvia. She was in her early thirties. Their marriage was an arrangement made in heaven. They got super lucky and have been head over heels for each other since she stepped off the plane from Sicily.

I keep playing Devil’s advocate because this is the only plausible theory I can come up with right now. I think aloud.

“They might not play down there, but could they know about it? Did they mention it to some friend or classmate who told someone in their family?”

“I seriously doubt it. The girls go to private school. It’s not like when we were growing up. They’re zoned for the same schools we went to, but Uncle Sal and Aunt Sylvia don’t want the girls to grow up like we did.”

Matteo is right again. My generation went to high school with our nemeses. I continue to push back.

“Yeah, but there’s no one in the other families who are the same age as them. It’s not like us. They might not be going to school with the kids belonging to rival syndicates, but there are members of our branch who send their kids to the same school. It’s expensive but not elitist.”

That makes Matteo pause. He considers this and realizes I may have a point.

“Don’t you think Uncle Sal has asked Pia and Natalia if they know about the tunnel yet?”

“I don’t know. They were sleeping when the men broke in. Aunt Sylvia didn’t fight them since she knew they’d take her, anyway. She didn’t want to wake the girls and have them come investigate. We know they haven’t told the girls what happened. Maybe they haven’t brought any of it up. I’ll ask Uncle Sal when I go over there later.”

It would be easier to just call or shoot him a text. But when we’re at the garage, we don’t have our cells on. We turn them off miles before we get here and don’t turn them back on until we’re miles away. We don’t need anyone tracking us. This place isn’t on any city records. Just the opposite. Papers got destroyed when they took over the building.

It was abandoned back then, so it was easy to claim it and then make it officially disappear. We don’t need anyone following us or raiding us. We have a satellite phone in case of a genuine emergency here or with someone in the family. We’ve used it three times in the years I’ve been coming here. I walked through the door for the first time when I was fifteen. I’m now thirty-three.

Matteo looks at the tools on the table near us as he speaks.

“I can finish up here. Why don’t you head over to Uncle Salvatore’s now?”

“Thanks. Do you still want me to guard Maria tonight when she goes out with Veronica?”

My sister’s husband grimaces. He’s my best friend. I know what he’s thinking, and his answer is far nicer than it could be.

“Yes. I can’t stand her. How Maria finds anything redeeming about her is beyond me.”

“I know. They’ve been friends since Gabriele moved here and started hanging out with Carmine. Fucking two decades. I don’t think she’s ever shut the fuck up since then.”

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