Page 55 of Dirty Mafia King
“I’ll talk to Matteo Lombardi and inquire about Emilio Conti’s visit,” Luca Ricci says over speakerphone.
“Ask if Lombardi’s keen on partially financing our expansion into the Ohio Valley.” I pop a bubble with the tip of my cigar. “And what percent might inspire him to work with us.” Despite a tense history and years dealing with Renzo’s mistake, tossing Lombardi a bone can’t hurt. Of course, living in Hollywood, the arrogant asshole won’t be satisfied unless it’s a gold bone. Four percent should do it—let’s see what he comes at me with.
Luca chuckles. “You certainly know how to warm a man’s heart.”
“Heart, and bank account.”
“But, on a serious note, you plan on shutting Conti up permanently?”
I shift, causing water to splash over the side of the tub. “Let him talk. Benny’s more of a threat, but I’ve eyes on him.”
“Don’t we all,” Luca adds.
A guard appears at the door.
“Hold on,” I tell Luca before waving the man forward. “What is it?”
“Alessia would like to speak to you.”
I take a drag of my cigar, then blow out a smoke ring. The kinky little voyeur gets off on watching me, though come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in several days.
“She insists.”
Does she now? “Show her upstairs.” I return to the business at hand. “What’s the word on Seattle?” The low-ranking capo in the Pacific Northwest died last month without an heir. Leaving the region ripe for takeover.
“There’s a nephew,” Luca says with disgust. “A piece of shit street gangster who’s stepping up.”
“Sounds personal.”
Silence. Oh, fuck. It is.Interesting.I pop a bubble that formed on my nipple.
He changes the subject. “When’s the wedding?”
My shrug sends a wave rippling across the surface.
“Are you in the pool?”
“Something like that.” I stub out my cigar in the ashtray, spilling the whiskey I’m holding in the same hand. “No wedding date yet. Sandro’s busy with New York. Besides, there’s no rush.”
“Says the man who never commits to any woman.”
“Why commit to one when I can be entertained by three?”
A gasp echoes across the bathroom tile.
Little eavesdropper. Like she isn’t aware of the kinky shit I enjoy. Like she isn’t at all curious what a man like me could do to an eager kinkster like her.
“I’m expecting an invite to the wedding,” Luca reminds me.
“Of course.” I smirk. “And I’m expecting a thick envelope as a wedding gift.”
He chuckles.
“Gotta go. Call me after you speak to Lombardi.”
Water splashes everywhere as I stand and then tap the cell perched on the stool beside the tub, disconnecting the call.
Her muffled choke fills the air. Like someone stuffed a fat cock down her tight throat and she’s struggling to handle it.
