Page 1 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

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NICCOLO “NIC” NARDONE

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I’ve been summoned to my father’s office away from a crucial meeting with our West Side lieutenants for this? "You want me to escort your child bride back to New York?"

"Watch your tone, boy," my father snarls. "This is business. Bella's part of the deal. You'll fly out tomorrow, collect her, and bring her straight back. No detours, no complications. Understood?"

I have a recurring wish that I can reach across my father’s desk and strangle him. For a moment, I relish in what it would feel like to actually follow through.

“I’m not your errand boy.” I'm forty years old, for Christ's sake, with a law degree and years of experience running our operations. "I have more pressing matters to attend to."

My father’s eyes flash dangerously. I suspect he’d like to reach across his desk and strangle me too. "Are you questioning my orders, Niccolo?"

"I'm questioning the allocation of our resources. We're in the middle of delicate negotiations with the West Side crew. My presence there is crucial."

"Your presence is crucial where I say it is." He jabs his cigar in my direction. "Or have you forgotten who runs this family?"

"Of course not.” How could I? My father is the epitome of narcissism. He always makes sure everyone knows he’s the center of the universe. “But think about it logically. Sending me to Chicago for a simple pickup is like using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. It's wasteful."

My father leans back, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe I want to make an impression on the Rinellas. Show them we take this arrangement seriously."

“In that case, you should go?”

“You are a fucking disgrace, Niccolo, do you know that?”

I nod. “You’ve told me so since I was a kid.” Never mind that I’ve kept his ass and many of his men’s asses out of jail and doubled our empire since I officially joined the family business fifteen years ago. Before that, I did low-level jobs for the family which helped me learn how the business ran at the street level, where it wasted or lost money, and where it could reap the biggest rewards with the lowest risk. Not that my father cares, because again, he thinks he’s the smartest man in the world.

He launches into a tirade about respect and family loyalty, which I’ve heard a million times. I ignore it, instead considering how this whole situation reeks of desperation. A feeble attempt by an aging Don to cling to power and virility. He’s a seventy-year-old man who’s arranged to marry a nineteen-year-old girl. It makes me sick to think of it.

I also know that I’m not selected for this role because of my power or influence in the family. It isn’t an honor to be tasked with this errand. It’s a punishment. It’s a reminder by him that I’m a peon like everyone else around him. I’ve spent years building influence and connections and loyalty in the organization, and for what? To be sent on glorified babysitting duty.

The injustice of it all burns in my chest. I’m the future of this family, whether my father wants to admit it or not. I know it. His underbosses know it. The soldiers and associates know it. Except for a few hardcore loyalists who suckle at my father’s teat like fucking leeches, many in the organization would like to see me usurp Don Gino Nardone and take his place. I’m getting closer and closer to doing so.

“What’s such a big deal about this marriage, anyway? Rinella is a poser. He thinks he’s more important than he is. He needs another family’s help to protect his docks.” I’d been relieved when I’d learned that Vincenzo’s eldest daughter, who had been arranged to marry my dad, had instead married into another family three years ago. And now this.

"She's nineteen. Barely older than Gia. How can you even consider this?" I’m unable to keep the disgust from my voice. My half-sister, Gia, is only twenty-three. I’d watched as my father married her off to that fucker Aldo Cantore at eighteen. He was old enough to be her father and just as brutal to her as my father is to his women. It was satisfying to kill him. If only I could have bragged about it.

“My personal affairs are none of your concern."

"They are when they involve the family business," I shoot back. “You're a sick, perverted bastard, you know that?” At some point, my father will simply kill me, but I’m not going to keep my thoughts about him to myself.

I’m surprised when he gives me a smug smile instead of a veiled threat. "Ah, Niccolo. Perhaps if you appreciated women more, you wouldn't be so quick to judge. When was the last time you fucked a woman?”

Fucking hell. "My personal life has nothing to do with this. This is about your making reckless decisions that could jeopardize everything we've built."

“We’ve?” He raises an eyebrow. “This is my business?—”

“Which you inherited from four generations of Nardone men. Just like I’ll inherit from you.”

“We’ll see.” There’s the veiled threat. “This alliance with the Rinellas will only strengthen and expand our business, giving me a leg into the Chicago Outfit. And if I get a beautiful, young, virgin wife out of the deal, well, that's just a bonus."

I can only glare at him.

"Who knows, Niccolo? If you're a good boy and do as you're told, maybe I'll let you have a taste of her once I've broken her in."

“You’re sick.”

He shrugs. “I know the Gentlemen’s Society will certainly be interested in the offer.”

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