Page 1 of Single Malt Drama

Marco

The movies gotit all wrong. Scarface, The Godfather, Goodfellas were great flicks, but they only showed the splashy side of the mafia. In reality, the day-to-day operations created a metric ass load of paperwork. Depending on the day, there were contracts to write, business acquisitions to oversee, and lawsuits—always a new freaking lawsuit.

That’s where I came in. Marco Cesare Marchionni, attorney for the mob, or my family’s part of it anyway.

On paper, the Marchionni Corporation was a multi-billion-dollar enterprise with hotels, restaurants, and bars on all seven continents, but like the movies, the reality didn’t live up to the hype. The majority of our properties would have gone under years ago if not for the river of profits from other mafiosi’s illegal activities.

After Joe, my eldest brother, was murdered, Gabe had taken his place as capo of the family, and my workload had quadrupled. Not because he’d earned himself a seat at the mafia’s version of the big boys’ table, or the Fratellanza. That would have been too easy. Nope, Gabe had decided to get us out of the mob—which was a good thing—except for the paperwork.

Granted, my current office was a pool deck overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, and I’d traded in my suit and tie for board shorts. However, I had a lot more to worry about than checking items off my to-do list. One mistake, real or imagined, could mean blowing up an already escalating mob war.

Gabe clamped a hand on my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

I added another name to the ever-growing list of companies to dump and set the laptop aside. “If we get rid of anything that isn’t turning a profit without dirty money, we’re looking at selling seventy-five percent of our holdings.”

“That’s less than I was expecting.” Frowning, he glanced over the water.

My entire famn damily had come to Sicily for Gabe’s wedding, but what was supposed to be a two-week vacation had turned into an indefinite stay. I, for one, was ready to get back to my regularly scheduled life in New Orleans. However, that couldn’t happen until Gabe brokered a peace agreement with the other mob families.

“How’s Pops?”

My father lived on borrowed time. Stage IV lung cancer had seen to that. While I’d never call our relationship close, watching him suffer sucked. Not to mention, sitting around waiting for him to die made me feel like an asshole.

“He’s resting. It’s been an eventful morning.”

“So I heard. What was with all the shouting?” I loved my big fat Italian family, but I often wished they came with a mute button.

Gabe scratched his jaw. “Enzo royally screwed up.”

Between his tone, and the mention of our brother, my heartrate picked up speed. A couple of rival mob families had a problem with us walking away from the Cosa Nostra. One capo in particular demanded an ungodly pay-off, time to make alternative arrangements for his money laundering needs, and for Enzo to marry his daughter.

Praying my brother’s mistake didn’t have anything to do with him going through with the wedding to Nicolina Lazio, I asked, “Fucked up how?”

“He forgot to turn off the security cameras before he and Shanna got creative with a bottle of wine.” Gabe cracked a grin.

“The feeds from the mansion go directly to Marchionni Corp’s security offices.” My God, anyone with clearance can access the recordings. I could only imagine the hilarity that had ensued when the security team got a look at Enzo’s do-it-yourself porno.

“Yep. Needless to say, Ma had a fit.”

“I feel bad for Shanna. Ma had a problem with her from the moment she set foot in this house. I thought she’d pop an aneurysm when she found out you’d sent Enzo back to New Orleans with her.” I felt bad for Enzo as well but for different reasons. His heart had always been three sizes too small, but it’d grown when he’d met Shanna.

Gabe chuckled. “Enzo will do what he wants, regardless of Ma’s feelings on the matter, but Shanna’s liable to put his balls in a jar when she finds out about this. If she doesn’t, I’d say it’s true love.”

I admired his optimism, but to quote Tina Turner, what’s love got to do with it? “Does it matter? The situation with the Lazios isn’t going away.”

Gabe’s expression darkened. “Like I’ve said before, we aren’t living in a Jane fucking Austen novel. I’m not selling our brother’s hand in marriage to get the rest of us out of the business.”

I appreciated his sentiment even if it was naive. “For what it’s worth, Nico doesn’t want the marriage either.”

Gabe smirked. “She sure as hell acted like it.”

“Did she?” I wiggled my brows. For once, being in the friend-zone had its advantages, namely Nico had confided in me.

“One. She hung on Enzo like an ornament. Two. She was homicidally jealous of Shanna. Three—” His eyes widened, and the proverbial lightbulb came on over his head. “You mean to tell me she was behaving like a two-year old coming off a sugar bender because she didn’t want to be with Enzo?”

I tapped the side of my nose. “Never let anyone make you think you don’t have a brain beneath all that long flowing hair.”

He flipped me the finger. “Now that you mention it, her behavior did seem over-the-top.”

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