Page 59 of Mafia King: Matteo
Our waitress appeared with glasses of water and placed them on the table. Her hands shake. Her voice quivers as she speaks and tells us her name is Anna. Matteo orders champagne with appetizers to follow in fifteen minutes. I can understand her being nervous.
Geesh. I don’t know how I’ll cook for him if he’s that exact. I’d crack under the pressure.
“Relax,” Matteo comforts me. “I’m not hurting anyone,” he murmurs.
He’s not hurting anyone now, but what about tomorrow or the next day? Granted, if he has to act, they probably deserve it. It’s not like the mafia commits reckless acts of violence to hurt innocent people.
“They flutter around you because you are powerful,” I murmur.
“You’re catching on. I knew you’d be good at this even if you didn’t learn it from your father. Of which I should be grateful. He’s not very good at the game,” Matteo adds as if he’s giving me a playbook.
“I wanted to ask you about that. Why did my father want that property you have?”
“It was his side deal, and he didn’t want the don to know about it. Why are you interested in it?”
“Just curious.”
Anna returns to the table, opens the champagne, and pours two flutes before she sets the bottle into the ice bucket at the end of the table.
“We need to make a toast.” He lifts his champagne flute, and I lift mine.
“To new beginnings,” he says, his dark eyes taking in my face before I meet his gaze.
“To new beginnings,” I reply as we tap glasses and take a sip.
“This is very good,” I comment and take a second sip of the bubbles.
“It’s a dry champagne from Italy. I’m glad you like it.”
“I do like a great Italian wine. Your food beats Russian food any day of the week.”
He chuckles at this. Seeing him lighthearted is refreshing, even if it’s only for a minute.
“It seems like an incredible piece of property to go to such lengths to obtain it. I’m curious as to why it’s so important to you.”
“Your father swooped in and stole it from under me. I don’t like being played, and that fucking Chinaman who owned it knew he would get more from your father than he would from me. Who first contacted who is still up for debate. However, I evened the score with both parties.”
“You’re sure my father took it?” I ask, wondering what else I’ll learn from him.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The Chinaman’s lips didn’t lie. He enjoyed the fact he fucked me over. Or, intended to. But it’s a deal that can usually be remedied.”
“And what was this man’s price?” I ask out of curiosity.
“Death, I guess,” he replies bluntly and without remorse.
“You mean…?”
“One way or another, men in my arena know the rules—when they are broken, we take care of business.” His voice is cold, and it’s a new side to him I’ve never witnessed.
He can be ruthless.
I feel sick. Did he kill a man over a business deal? Granted, the Chinaman messed with a mafia boss and pitted two formidable opponents against each other. I realize it would have been worse if my dad had let Alexsei buy it.
He’s Izzy’s dad, so he and my husband would have gone head-to-head in a war. Dmitry is just as formidable as Matteo. I shudder to think how that scenario would have turned out. Neither of them would ever back down. This marriage put me in a position to ensure that no ill will come between our families, thereby preserving the peace. I hate to think that, in the odd turn of events, our union might not be the worst-arranged marriage. The Russians and Italians both share commonalities, mainly Izzy and me.
