Page 58 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

I nod. “I’m listening.”

“Don Salvatore controls the portside we deal in,” he says. “Marry his daughter, and he’ll protect our men because you’ll be family, then.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, silence eerie in the room. “That’s what you’d advise?”

I raised the pitch of my voice saying this, sounding like I’m really a green boss, insecure and not very aware of how the world works out there.

Jubilant energy takes hold inside me when Bruno falls for my ruse and starts to explain how Don Salvatore will help us out, how much this alliance will weigh in the scheme of things, how the syndicate will approve of this move and welcome me in their ranks as a consequence.

That off feeling I’d had back home when I saw his text? It just got confirmed. The monster in my blood is raring to be let loose.

“You’ve really thought this through,” I say, slowly standing up.

I notice the other men tensing, some exchanging glances.Bruno’s on a roll, though, totally oblivious to the tension in the room.

I start toward the decanters, making it look as if I’m going to get a drink. But as soon as I’ve stepped behind Bruno, I stop, turn around, and slam a forceful kick into the back of his knees.

His words sound garbled as he falls to the floor. I quickly reach under his jacket and get the gun in a shoulder holster under his arm. I then reach for his feet, grabbing the small knives he stashes there against his ankle bones.

I can feel shadows falling over me—the other men have gotten up and are watching us. Good. They need to know who gives the orders here.

“No need to bother getting up,” I tell Bruno, using a knife to slash the backs of his legs, cutting the Achilles tendon. Blood spurts, but it’s minimal, which is perfect—it did its job of crippling him yet he won’t bleed out in the next few minutes like if I’d ripped through an artery.

I step back up and hand Mattia the gun, barrel in hand, handle extended to him. What this does is show the men how much I’m unaffected by this scene happening right in front of us. I’m cool and composed, with no need for a gun.

I smother a smile when I’m able to smell fear in the room, and not just coming off of Bruno.

I lean down and peer into his face. “I don’t care how much Don Salvatore’s paid you, or what he has on you. You might like being on your knees as his little bitch. I don’t.”

He sputters on his words. “Leo—”

I shake my head. “It’s Don Pellegrini. You shouldn’t have done this.”

I reach out, cradle his face in my palms. For a second there, I’m sure it looks like I’ll be compassionate, reprimand him, even though he won’t walk properly ever again.

But that’s not what’s going to happen. He chose the wrong side. And I don’t tolerate people who pose a threat to what’s mine.

It takes just a twist of my upper body to snap his neck. I let his lifeless body drop to the floor. Damn, a small pool of blood has formed at his feet. Thankfully, it’s contained on the rug, which will have to be discarded.

“Don Pellegrini,” someone says.

I glance up, eyes narrowed. Whoever was talking shuts up.

“Anyone want to be next?” I’m met by silence. “Good. Someone please get rid of this,” I say, waving at the dead body of my former enforcer as if it were a pile of dog poop.

Mattia hands me the gun back. I stare at it. It’s a beautiful piece, with unique engravings on the barrel. I start toward the door, then turn back on the threshold.

“Oh, by the way,” I say, looking at thecapos, my crew captains. “There’s an opening, for my enforcer. Who wants the job?”

It sounds as if I’m asking who wants to come to dinner tonight, all unaffected and blasé about it. Stunned silence greets me, until one hand raises.

“Luigi,” I say, nodding at him to come forward. I hand him the gun, handle out, when he approaches. When he takes it, I waveat the house. “Congratulations. Please tell Rosella and the girls they can go all out with redecorating. I’ll settle the bill.”

His eyes go wide. Guess he didn’t know the post of enforcer comes with this house my great-grandfather bought in the early 1920s.

He nods and lowers his head. “Grazie, Don Pellegrini.”

I can feel the rest of the men are in check, so I turn and exit the house, Mattia behind me. I step out toward his car, get into the passenger seat when he unlocks the doors with the fob.

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