Page 167 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

The entire way, our SUV had to weave through cobblestone streets that could barely fit two cars side-by-side.

The buildings looked like they were all built 800 years ago, and they marched up the hill in tiers, with steep steps connecting the different levels.

Paolo parked the SUV, pulling it up on the sidewalk. All the other cars did the same.

“We gotta walk from here,” he announced.

We strolled up a couple of side streets until we reached a gigantic square – although it was more like an uneven rectangle that sloped 600 feet up to a big-ass church.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“The Duomo di San Giorgio Ragusa.”

It was massive – at least three stories tall, with ornate columns and arches all over the yellow stone exterior. Since it sat at the top of the hill, on one of the highest points in town, the church towered over everything else.

The presence of such an overwhelming symbol of religion didn’t bother Rocco, though. He sat with his boys outside a café, acting like assholes – talking too loud and laughing even louder.

“Hold on,” I said to Paolo. “Hang back until I know what’s going to happen.”

Paolo didn’t say anything, but he waited about 30 feet away as I walked over to Rocco.

“Oh, look – it’s Mr. Fuckin’ Movie Star,” Rocco sneered.

“Can I talk to you a second in private?” I asked.

“Whatever you wanna say to me, you can say in front of my boys. Unless you’re embarrassed you’re on your period.”

All the guys howled with laughter.

I just looked at Rocco coldly. “Like I said – in private.”

“AndIsaid, you can say it in front of my – ”

“It’s about your father.”

Fear flashed across Rocco’s face.

It didn’t last – he quickly went back to his same old bluster – but he stood up and snarled, “Well why didn’t you fuckin’ say so? Hold down the fort, boys.”

I led him over to a side street, far enough away that his friends couldn’t hear us. A few tourists drifted past us from shop to shop, but it was early enough in the morning that there weren’t that many people around.

“What’d Pop say?” Rocco asked in a quiet voice.

“Nothing. I just wanted to get you away from your men.”

Now anger twisted Rocco’s expression. This time, it didn’t disappear.

“What thefuck?!Why the fuck are you – ”

“You don’t want me here,” I interrupted. “And I don’t want tobehere. So what do you say we come to an arrangement?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to go around breaking drug dealers’ legs or harassing shopkeepers. So if your father asks, why don’t you pretend like I was here…”

I pulled out the wad of 10,000 euros.

“…and I’ll give you a little something for your trouble.”

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