Page 20 of Dirty Mafia King
“He lied.” I punch his kidney, and his face turns green. “He pay you?”
Amato doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. I crawl off him and, with a hard shove, send him flying off the desk. I slam my fist onto the laptop he almost takes with him.
Conti’s never been the sharpest tool in the shed. Murdering Amato would have hurt me more than Conti paying him off. Announcing Amato as chairman was a hand I wasn’t ready to play, not before my men were in place to report back Bible Belt Benny’s response to the news. I’ve been patient. Atlanta is mine, and I’m almost prepared to move on it. The South will be mine eventually, a fact Benny will recognize.
I could kill Amato, and find a replacement. No one is irreplaceable. But any delays will fuck up investments already made.
I could turn him into my puppet and marry Sandro off to another greedy politician’s daughter. But I had to go and run my mouth to Don Lucchese about bringing Amato into the famiglie, didn’t I? The sly old bloodhound will wonder why the Amato girl was no longer in the picture and start digging around. If the video of her surfaces, I’ll become a laughingstock.
There’s no way out of this unscathed.
Fuck, I put all my eggs on the Amatos, and they turned up rotten.
I hurl my new whiskey glass at the wall. At this rate, I’ll need to replace the fucking set.
Even Sandro looks alarmed.
“If I were Conti, you’d be dead. And if you don’t do as I say, you will be.”
“Please,” Sleeping Beauty whimpers, once more awake. Good. She’s not going to want to miss this. “He saw the money in his bank account and nothing else. Don’t hurt him.”
The little liar believes she can save him, does she? “There’s more.”
Amato staggers to his feet, and then falls into the chair. “I swear on my dead wife’s soul, that was the extent of it.”
“Her soul?” Alessia rises and turns to him. “How dare you.”
She’s going to need that spine by the time I’m done here.
“Sit,” I snap.
She obeys without hesitation, then clasps her hands on her lap and, lip quivering, studies the floor.
Good girl.
The wayward thought makes my blood boil. I address her father. “You’ve two choices: I ruin you politically and financially, and you’re obedient. Or I ruin you politically and financially, and you die.”
“I don’t want to die,” he bursts out. “If I’d known Conti wasn’t who he said he was—”
I hold up a hand and silence him. “If the trouble you Amatos have caused me isn’t resolved quickly and quietly…”
“Let his daughters go,” Renzo speaks up. Then, reading my thunderous expression, adds, “And I’ll guarantee they disappear.”
Alessia gasps.
He touches her hand in reassurance. If his interruption wasn’t enough to piss me off, that compassionate little gesture is.
“Sandro will guarantee they disappear.”
Renzo stiffens.
His twin smiles.
“It was a mistake,” Amato pleads. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Perfect. You have a week to find your replacement—if you survive my dungeon and fists. He must meet three requirements: be loyal to me and only me, be in position to step into your place as the head of the new East Coast Gaming Commission, and have a daughter Sandro can marry.”
Amato sputters incoherently.
