Page 69 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

I told myself over and over again,It was just a fling…

It wasn’t serious…

She’ll get over it.

But at the moment, it felt likeImight never get overher.

Not that I would have admitted that to anyone.

Hell, I couldn’t even admit it to myself.

I threw some clothes and shoes into several suitcases, along with some suits in hang-up bags.

When I was almost ready to go, Niccolo walked in. “Don’t forget to bring your tuxedo.”

“Why?” I asked angrily.

“Because you’ll need it to get married in.”

He walked out, and I snarled under my breath, “Motherfucker.”

But I packed the tuxedo all the same.

A foot soldier drove me and Niccolo out to the airfield amongst the olive trees. I ignored my brother the entire way.

An old jet was waiting for us on the airstrip.

And when I say ‘old,’ I meanold.The fucking thing looked like it was out of the 1970s.

“We’re supposed to fly inthat?!”I exclaimed as we pulled up.

“Second lesson,” Niccolo said. “When a Sicilian offers you something – whether it’s a ride on his plane or a glass of wine – never,evercriticize it.EVER.”

I scowled at him as we got out of the car.

The foot soldier carried my suitcases, and I took the hang-up bags with the suit and tuxedo.

I noticed Niccolo didn’t have so much as a carry-on.

“You’re not bringing any clothes?” I asked.

“I won’t be there that long.”

“ButI’llbe there for fuckingever,”I snarled.

Nic didn’t say anything.

We boarded the jet, which had seats that looked like they hadn’t been replaced since 1979. The leather was scuffed and ripped in places.

There wasn’t a stewardess to help, so I just stashed my bags in a closet near the entrance.

“Can’t this guy afford a betterjet?” I muttered to Niccolo.

“What did I say about criticizing Sicilians?” Niccolo whispered harshly.

“Yeah, yeah. Is he poor or something?”

Niccolo smiled grimly. “He’s probably the richest man in theCosa Nostra.Only the Widow of Venice has more money.”

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