Page 103 of Mafia King: Matteo
I phone my mother, who rants hysterically. I can’t understand a word she says. I remind myself to be patient. I saw this coming—she didn’t. She’s in shock.
“Who would hurt your father?”
“There are plenty of people, Mom. Dad was doing inappropriate things. He might have used Bratva’s funds for his agenda.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. We have bills to pay. We still owe on the house,” she sobs.
“Mom, be calm. Don’t do anything.”
“I need to call the police,” she says.
“Sure, but don’t give them any information. He just didn’t come home after work. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not stupid.”
“Okay, keep me posted.”
I get a call from the wedding planner and give her the updated list of invitees, and Federico pops into the living room, stating that it’s time for lunch.
Matteo joins me.
“Where’s Niccoló?”
“He ran into the city. He’s going to meet with our trainer.”
“What trainer?”
“We own some gyms.” He sits and begins to eat.
“What kind of gyms?”
“The usual,” he says, but he continues when I raise my eyebrow for more information. “Fine. We also do underground boxing, and Niccoló used to be very good. I didn’t want him to go, but he said he’d find somewhere to box, so I gave him our guy. This way, I can keep an eye on him.”
“This is about Chiara, isn’t it?”
“He blames himself. What man wouldn’t? It’s his way of coping. It’s better than beating up strangers.”
“True. But still, he’s so handsome. I’d hate to see that change.”
“It’s the way it is. He’s a man, and he has a talent for it.”
I want to ask what he does for the family, but I’m not sure I want to know.
CHAPTER 35
MATTEO
The variance went through as expected. Gio and I are sitting in my office at the warehouse. I pull a bottle of Bourbon out of my drawer. Gio pulls two cigars from his breast pocket.
Niccoló breezes in wearing jeans, a turtleneck, and a winter jacket. He loves military-style boots that lace up to his ankles. He’s been a soldier and a boxer. I set a rock glass for him.
“I’m in training.”
“When has that stopped you?”
“I’m serious—I’m following the rules, and sugar is bad. I never should have stopped working out. This is tough. Fuck, I hurt. I know I’ll hurt more tomorrow.” He sits and rubs his calves.
“I don’t care to do more than my normal routine. I usually work out at home.”
