Page 32 of Mafia King: Matteo
“By the way, congratulations on your new job. Am I still taking you to the Plazzo Romano Hotel?”
“Yes, thank you. Don’t say anything to Mom and Dad. I haven’t told them. I want to make sure things work out first.”
“Of course. I will take your secrets to my grave.” I look in the rearview mirror, and he gives me a Cheshire grin. I almost giggle at the thought of him burping up a feathery canary.
“You can say that until your boss threatens to use the jumper cables.”
“Ouch. That would never happen. Your dad’s a teddy bear,” he jokes. I’m glad Dima isn’t easily offended.
He says he has more fun driving me around rather than my mother. Her idea of fun is to stop at every store and look for bargains. The only other time she gets out is once a month when she meets with other Bratva wives to organize charity events.
I admire her dedication to helping the disadvantaged youth in the inner city. It’s a source of conflict for me because all the syndicates use the less fortunate communities to sell drugs and run rackets, like gambling and prostitution. It’s so hypocritical. I’d rather help kids in hospitals.
Dima is not the enforcer type. He’s a tall, muscular man, and he carries a weapon. He is trained to defend me and to keep me safe. But under it all, he’s not what I’d call intimidating.
Kidnappings were a huge ordeal when I was in elementary school. Due to that, my mother and others freaked out. I did the kidnapping drill like others my age who have similar backgrounds. Some in the class were just wealthy assholes in private schools.
I was thrown in a truck and taught what to do if I’m ever taken as a hostage. Our parents thought the training would save our lives. In reality, it only gave them a false sense of security. I was more concerned over the occasional gang hits spilling over into middle and upper-class neighborhoods.
I wouldn’t mind knowing how to use a gun. I mean, I can pull a trigger, but I have no clue as to what I’d hit with a bullet. Dad believes it’s his job to protect me, so my teen and high school years were filled with countless versions of Dima.
“Well, Russian leaders are known for torturing people and keeping the truth from citizens. In this country, it’s called selective denial,” I say to break the silence as we sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
“This is what you learn in college?”
“No, it’s what I’ve observed.”
“Kirill has instructed me to follow you everywhere. We need to find out who Mr. Grey is. You said he speaks Italian?”
“I think so. His face isn’t familiar. It’s odd. It’s not like I don’t frequent enough high-end places around town. I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into him before. Maybe he’s a new arrival.”
“Just because he’s not on the cover of one of those shitty gossip magazines doesn’t mean he was living in Siberia. Have you checked Instagram and other social media?” He says to poke fun at my culture.
“I checked. He doesn’t have a social media presence.” Shit, I just proved to Dima how much social media dictates my life.
“If anyone knows how to cyberstalk, it’s you,” he laughs, “That phone never leaves your hand. No way am I letting my daughter have a smartphone. I don’t want her comparing herself to those so-called influencers with their fake breasts and butt implants. And no fake nails, fake eyelashes, or fake hair. When did women decide they want to look like porn stars? My daughter needs to concentrate on getting good grades and earning her allowance.”
“Good for you, Dima. I’m sure she’s smart and level-headed.”
“Thank you. She is, and I want to keep her that way.”
“Wow, is that the hotel?”
“Yep. I’ll drop you off and come up.”
“No, I can’t have you hovering over me on my first day,” I complain. “This isn’t the bring your bodyguard to work day.”
“You’re always so defensive of your space. Nothing has changed with age.”
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p.’
“Very well. I will hide in plain sight. I have a book I can read to make it look like I’m waiting for someone. I might check out the indoor pool.”
“Thank you,” I graciously reply.
“But you have to keep me apprised of everything concerning the mystery man.”
“Deal,” I say as I let myself out of the vehicle.
