Page 4 of Mafia Baby

I met Will Bianchi when his father hired me to assassinate someone. That’s how I meet most of the people in my life.

Being a skilled and circumspect assassin has many perks, but it does limit your social circle significantly.

During my work for the Bianchi family, Will and I connected on the oddest level. Now, he’s one of the few people I can vent to about my life, without worrying about whether I can trust him.

We both have dirt on each other, and it makes our friendship work.

“How are you, Will? I’ve been busy, I’m sorry. I did tell your mom I’d come over for dinner soon, but there’s just been a lot of crap to sort out on this end.” I put the phone on speaker so that I can finish getting ready.

I can’t be late to see Vince. He’ll throw a fit if I am. But I always enjoy a conversation with Will, so I’ll multitask for the sake of my adopted father and my best friend.

“No worries, man, she understands. I told her you just have way too many heads to hunt.” He chuckles, but I freeze. Mrs. Bianchi may have a vague idea of what I do, but I’d never want her to know any details about my line of work.

“I’m kidding,” Will says, hearing me go quiet. “Don’t worry about your secrets. They’re safe with me.”

“You’re hilarious,” I say, thinking about the long list of people I’ve made go away for powerful people.

When my adopted dad, Vincenzo Romano, adopted me, neither of us knew that I’d become such a powerful weapon in his arsenal.

I had taken to the job of “removing” difficult people like a duck takes to water. I only needed a very little amount of training to become excellent at my job.

Vince had originally taken me in as something similar to a hostage, to help pay back a debt my dead father had owed him. Over time, however, we had grown close, and I had taken over as his right-hand man in many ways.

Once my debt was paid, Vince had told me that I could take up any other kind of business, so long as it didn’t conflict with his drug-running work.

It didn’t take me long to choose to buy this club and to hire dancers to work here. I treated them fairly and paid them very well. It was to honor the memory of my sweet, gentle, drug-addicted mother who had struggled to take care of us on a dancer’s salary.

Assassinations were something I did mostly for enjoyment these days. I made plenty of money at the club and I liked being able to stay away from drug sales as well.

After watching my mother struggle with her addiction throughout my childhood, I didn’t feel good about selling products that ruined people’s lives.

“No, but seriously,” Will was saying. I let my wandering thoughts go and focused in on his words again. “Why don’t you make my mom happy and come to my sister’s birthday party tomorrow? It’s her twenty-second birthday, but we want to make up for missing her twenty-oner. Most of the guest list right now are on a waiting list for retirement homes.”

I knew that Will had a younger sister, but I’d never met her. By the time I was hired by Mr. Bianchi, their young daughter was out of the house and in school somewhere overseas.

As a thank you for the quick work years ago, Mr. Bianchi found me a fantastic deal on a house out in Chicago Heights, where I plan to retire. I also got Mrs. Bianchi as a substitute mom, enjoying Thanksgiving dinners and even Christmas Eve with the family.

It wasn’t at all strange for me to come to a family event, even if it was for Will’s sister, who I’ve never met.

“I don’t know…are we going to be the only people young enough to have fun besides your sister?” I ask. “You know I don’t have anything to offer to a gathering for a young girl.” I’m five years older than Will, and he’s quite a bit older than his sister as well.

Hanging out with college-age girls isn’t my usual idea of a good time.

“C’mon Dom, you’ll have fun. And there’s like three people you’ll want to keep an eye on during the party.” The Bianchi family moves in high society circles, which also means they know a few of the dodgy businessmen who owe my family money.

Sometimes, attending one of their parties and making sure those men saw my face was good for debt collection.

I sigh. “All right, I’ll be there. What do I bring as a gift?”

“Oh, Gianna is spoiled. Bring whatever expensive thing you think she’ll like.”

We hang up and I head out the door to see my father. Not my biological father, but the man who has taken care of me for a large portion of my life.

As I drive to the meeting, I think about the past. When I was fourteen, I was arrested for smashing in my stepfather’s head with his signed baseball bat. Not for no reason—I walked in on him attacking my mother for the umpteenth time and I lost my shit.

He died, and my mom could never bring herself to forgive me for taking her “soulmate”.

Things got even more interesting when Vince and his guys showed up at the juvenile detention center, explaining to me that my stepfather had owed them more money than my fourteen-year-old brain could even picture, and now they were going to collect that from me.

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