Page 7 of Mafia King: Matteo
“I’m sure a large bank account is attractive as well.”
“It never hurts. This place has a few rules, like no real names and safe sex only.”
I nod. “Noted.”
“How was the funeral?”
“Boring as hell. Between us, it looks like my father may have been murdered. His postmortem lab work showed poison commonly found in soil. The only consolation is that his death was quick. I don’t want to show my hand to the person or persons responsible. The only people who know are you and my siblings. Be vigilant. It’s an uncertain time to take my place at the top.”
“I understand,” he says. “I’ll tell Antonio to keep his eyes open even when he sleeps.”
“That will be me, too. How did I get stuck with the psychotic family? Given the family genetics, it’s a wonder we kids turned out as well as we have. Pietro has always been the rebel. Is it really that terrible that he hates the family business and prefers to garden?”
“Not at all. He’s probably the happiest of all of you, although I’m sure Bianca has all the men at school eating out of her hand. She’s probably having a great time.”
“Popularity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.” My years have been filled with women who want everything from a hard fuck to a ring on their finger. At times, it’s as if my soul is being sucked instead of my cock. “Besides, her school is a bit unorthodox.”
Gio nods. There is more to that story, but it’s for another day.
He gives the driver an address, and the SUV winds down city streets with very little traffic.
“The theme tonight is Angels and Demons. They have one night a week for theme parties.”
“Sounds organized.”
“It’s private. The owner is Madame M.”
“It’s not prostitutes, is it?”
“Hell no. Rumor has it Madame M loves sex and uses one of her large flats for friends to mingle, if you get my drift. An annual fee helps keep the bar stocked and covers staff costs on event nights. Trust me, you’ll have a good time.”
“Fine.” The SUV rolls to a stop in front of a brick building.
“We’ll wait,” Gio says as he walks me to an unmarked door.
I feel the bite of the chill in the damp night air. All I care about is having a wet pussy dripping at the sight of my cock.
He punches in a code, and the door unlocks. We step inside to find an empty lobby with a single elevator. The doors are open, and he indicates that I should step inside.
“Penthouse. I’ll be waiting here.”
“Thank you, Gio.”
I press the button with the letter P, and the elevator doors close. Due to the stress at home, my balls are tight. I’m not ready to sleep, and I want to get off.
The elevator lurches to a stop, and the doors open. I step out, not knowing what to expect. It’s quiet, and I wonder if I’m at the right place. There’s only one door, a red door. It opens, and a woman dressed in burlesque red and black lingerie, with pearls on her stockings and six-inch heels, steps out. She’s tugging on a long black coat.
“Well, if I had known you were coming, I would have stayed longer,” she purrs. She’s tall, with alabaster skin and lips painted red like candy apples. She’s wearing a platinum-blonde Marilyn Monroe wig.
“Maybe next time,” I reply without an encouraging smile.
She grabs my balls as she passes me and gets into the elevator. The scent of her gardenia perfume tickles my nose.
“Nice package,” she says as the door closes.
I hate the smell of gardenias. They are overpowering. I rub my hand over my face as if it will wipe away the perfume smell sooner rather than later.
I open the red door and step into a dimly lit apartment. I can make out a bar in the center of the large room. Art Deco sconces, reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties, decorate the walls and provide the only lighting.
