Page 82 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

And into the main living room of the suite.

At the far end of the room, in a throne-like wooden chair, sat Don Vicari.

He was in his late 50s – about my father’s age when he died.

Once upon a time, Vicari had probably been a real bruiser. He was built like a heavyweight boxer and still had a muscular body, but he also had a gut.

He wasn’t fat, though – at least not around the face. No jowls, no double chin. More like he was just…solid.Meaty. A guy you didnotwant to get into a fistfight with.

His suit was even worse than his men’s: casual, old, and out of style. It looked like he’d stopped buying new clothes 20 years ago.

The only flamboyant thing he wore was a diamond set into a heavy gold ring. Not like a wedding ring, with the rock exposed, but with the diamond sunk deep into the gold base.

His hair – combed straight back from his forehead – was thinning slightly but still jet black.

The mustache was exactly the same as I remembered it: big and bushy, a real porn ‘stache. No beard, although he had five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. Which was impressive, considering it was early afternoon.

But it was his eyes that stopped you in your tracks.

They were just… dead.

The brown irises were so dark that they appeared almost as black as the pupils… and he stared at you like a shark would: utterly unconcerned about whether you lived or died.

A stone-cold killer’s eyes.

I liked to think I was pretty tough…

But when this guy looked at me, a shiver ran down my spine.

“Don Vicari,” Niccolo said cheerfully. “Good to see you.”

“Sit,” the bastard said in a gravelly voice as he gestured at two empty, much smaller chairs opposite him.

NoHow do you do.

NoThanks for coming.

JustSit.

We sat.

Niccolo smiled and played the part of the respectful guest. “Thank you for having us. It’s an honor.”

“Such a great honor that your don couldn’t be bothered to come,” Vicari said.

He didn’t sound pissed off or angry. More like he was just sayingBullshitin a bored tone of voice.

Niccolo’s smile tightened. “As you know, an attempt was recently made on my brother’s life. Blame me for his absence – I was the one who insisted he not accompany us.”

“Hrm,” Vicari grunted, then looked at me. My skin crawled as he peered at me like he was buying a horse. “So this is him.”

“This…” Niccolo said theatrically, “is Valentino.”

Vicari looked me up and down dubiously. “He’s a little too pretty.”

“Give me a gun and I’ll show you who’s a little too pretty,” I shot back.

Niccolo gave me a death stare likeI’LL KILL YOU MYSELF IF YOU SAY ANY MORE SHIT LIKE THAT.

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