Page 25 of Mafia Priest

“Today we’ve gathered to celebrate the marriage of the closest thing we have to royalty—a true mafia princess, BiancaRomano. We celebrate a marriage that took place in a civil ceremony six weeks ago.”

All hell breaks loose.

Shots and shouts ring out as our men deal with the traitors. Body thrumming with excitement, I spring to my feet as Guido is yanked to the side, turning just in time to see my brother-in-law shove his knee into the bastard’s back and handcuff him. Crossing the altar, I walk toward my husband in a dream, high on adrenaline, only distantly processing what he’s saying.

“I know you have questions—like how a priest married your late don’s granddaughter. But I wasn’t always a priest. Walking away from my mafia family nearly killed me, but I was on a dark path—booze, drugs, empty sex—and needed meaning. I thought Holy Orders would provide that meaning, but God works in mysterious ways. The priesthood brought me here and showed me my true purpose—to love, cherish, and protect the most gorgeous goddess who ever walked this earth. A woman who not only completes me, but who makes me a better man. As for the rest, I’ll leave that to my wife, Donna Bianca Romano.”

Eleven

Salvatore

I step awayfrom the lectern as Bianca approaches, her heels and bridal train slowing her progress, and say a silent prayer that we can pull this off. A lot could still go wrong despite the corpses scattered throughout the pews.

While removing the men’s families from the sanctuary was the difficult part, logistically, this is the true test. Bianca must convince a cathedral full of hardened men, men raised in a culture of violence and misogyny, to accept a female don.

Reaching the lectern, she adjusts the microphone. “La famiglia’s strength lies in the honor of its men. I learned this at my grandfather’s knee. Unfortunately,our familyhas harbored a snake for decades, a snake who struck on a fateful Good Friday and changed the course of my life. Guido Lombardi murdered my father. Gunned him down on the steps of the old church, all because he hoped to be don.”

“The bitch is lying!” Lombardi shouts from where my brother has him restrained near the baptismal font. “Don’t listen to her!”

A low murmur arises in the pews, but no one comes to Lombardi’s aid. Likely because all the men whowouldhave lead in their skulls.

I shoot a glance at Dom. Nodding, he pistol whips Lombardi. He hits the motherfucker hard enough that there’s the satisfying crack of bone breaking, but not so hard that he’s rendered unconscious.

Unfazed, Bianca continues. “Guido Lombardi not only murdered the rightful heir to the Mancini legacy, but he took advantage of a sick old man, persuading Nonno to enter into ‘business ventures’ that were void of honor. Guido dragged our organization into the business of imprisoning and prostituting underage girls and tarnished the Mancini name.”

Again, there’s a murmur from the pews. Bianca holds up a hand.

“I know you remember Nonno as a strong, powerful man. A fair man. A good man. And he was—for many years. But for the last year of his life, he had end-stage lung cancer and dementia. Nonno’s doctors begged him to go into hospice, but he refused. La famiglia always came first, and so he carried on and hid his infirmities. Our household guards can confirm this—they helped me perpetuate the deception.”

Roberto Ferrari stands. “Donna Bianca speaks the truth. Don Marco was gravely ill, but he swore us to secrecy.”

“Thank you, Robby.” Bianca nods at her head of security. “Some may harbor doubts aboutmefilling Nonno’s shoes. Some may be tempted to forgive Guido Lombardi for the crimes I’ve listed so far, given that he’s been underboss for so many years. But he didn’t just murder my father or orchestrate the abuse of dozens of young girls—he killed your don.”

She lets this sink in, wiping away a tear. God, my angel is a consummate liar.

“I never expected to become donna. But I love my family, and the events of the past year made me realize that if we’re to heal, we need a leader who understands honor. One who will only ask you to kill when it’s unavoidable, who is committed to returning you safely to your families at the end of each job. I promise I will be that leader.

“Yes, I’m young. But don’t be fooled by my age. As you can see by today’s events, I’ll do what needs to be done. And I won’t be acting alone. I’ll have my husband by my side, and Salvatore’s record speaks for itself.”

Stepping closer, I put an arm around her waist. Becoming donna wasn’t Bianca’s first choice. She considered having me step up—or at least pretend to do so while she acted behind the scenes. But if I wanted to be don, I’d have stayed in Philadelphia. Now, I want that burden even less.Familyis what matters, the family we’ll create. Protecting our family will be a full-time job—along with supporting Bianca in claiming her birthright. Her men need her light and goodness. She doesn’t deserve to be hidden, nor to have me take credit she deserves.

“In time,” she says into the microphone, “my record will also speak for itself. You’ll learn I’m not one to cross. I abhor senseless violence, but Nonno taught me that there’s only one way to deal with disloyalty.”

She’s right, but until her men see that, I’ll gladly use my reputation—and fists—to clear the path she was born to take. My angel is more capable than most; I’m confident she’ll balance motherhood and business. She’s already exhibited a remarkable facility for both blackmail and delegation. I never would have thought of the angle she’s used to manipulate Moretti.

Taking the microphone from its stand, Bianca walks over to the baptismal font. As I follow her, I remove my vestments and toss them aside. Pulling out my piece, I take custody of Lombardi, who glares sullenly, one eye swollen shut.

Bianca addresses her men. “Over fifty girls passed through this man’s brothel. Ishouldhave my husband submerge him in the baptismal font to cleanse him of that sin—one minute for every girl he harmed.”

“You crazy cunt!” Lombardi screams, struggling to escape my grip.

I slam his face into the edge of the font. There’s another satisfying crack of bone.

Bianca places a hand on my arm. “Ishouldhave my husband drown him, but I won’t. Not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because I’d never desecrate holy water with scum like him.” Hitching up her dress, she removes her gun from a holster strapped to her thigh.

I meet her eye. “Now?”

She nods, and I march Lombardi to the center of the altar at gunpoint as my wife once more addresses her men.

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