Page 4 of Owned By the Italian Mafia Don

“I’ve given you two months, Frankie. Two months.” I slap my hand on the table so hard that the silverware shakes against the plates. I wipe my hand over my mouth, trying to control my anger. “You’re taking advantage of my kindness. See, that’s what happens when you give someone leeway. I shouldn’t have, because now you think you can do it whenever you want. And you can’t.” I fold my arms on the table and lean forward. “You wanted a loan. I gave you the loan because I love your Nona. She’s sweet and innocent in this so she’ll be safe. You owe me ten thousand dollars, Frankie.”

“I can…I can’t give you all of it. I can give you half of it? And then I can just have another two weeks for the rest. I can get it to you then.”

I grab the knife keeping his hand against the table and stand, leaning my weight against the handle and he screams. I twist the blade and his screams become broken gasps of air and unstable shouts. Music to my ears.

“Here is the thing. I’m new to this position, right? You’re used to my big brother. You thought maybe you’d be able to skirt by, but I’m not that new. I’ve been doing this a long time by my brother’s side.” I twist the knife again before jerking it from his hand, freeing him from the table.

He shivers from the pain and holds his hand to his chest. Spit drips from his bottom lip and down his chin as he tries to catch his breath. His nostrils flex in as he breaths in as deep as he can, then expand as he releases the air.

“That’s it. Breathe through the pain.” I place the knife against his throat and his entire body trembles so much, the edge of the knife nicks his neck. Not enough to cut his jugular, but enough for him to realize he needs to stop moving. “Tell my men where the money is.”

“Kitchen. Look in the fridge that doesn’t work. Five thousand is there.”

“And the other five thousand? I’m not waiting until next week. I’ve waited long enough.” I turn to look at Gianni and tilt my chin to the kitchen for him to go get the cash.

Without another word, he walks away, vanishing between the swinging doors.

“I don’t have anything else.”

I lean down and whisper in his ear. “I think you’re lying.”

“I swear, I’m not. I’m not, Mr. Milazzo. I swear to you. I promise!” he cries.

I lift his injured hand, dripping in blood, and notice the large gold ring on his finger with a big emerald sitting in the middle. “This seems to be worth something. A few thousand at least.” I shove his hand against the table and slam the knife down on the finger, slicing it clean.

Frankie screams at the top of his lungs and my ears ring. I take the napkin from my plate and pick up his finger, tugging the ring from it.

“I found five thousand like he said and another three hidden in the freezer,” Gianni announces, tossing the bag on the ground by his feet.

I yank Frankie’s head back by his hair, his hand against his chest, and his shirt ruined with blood. “You lied to me. I fucking hate liars. The ten thousand you owe me is paid in full but you’ve made an enemy of me now. If you need me, I will not help you. Do you understand?”

He nods, his face pale and clammy. “I understand. I’m sorry, Mr. Milazzo. I was trying to save the money for—”

“I don’t give a fuck what it was for. You owed me. You made a deal with me.” I shout in his face, then grip his chin. “Give your Nona my love, okay?” I tap his cheek and tuck the ring in my pocket. Releasing him, I walk away, my men right behind me.

I get in the back of the car while Gianni gets into the driver’s seat.

“You’re going to do very well, Mr. Milazzo.”

I roll my eyes. “Gianni. How many times do I need to tell you? Call me Ari. Please. We’re friends, you know. Unless you forgot.”

“I didn’t, but you’re my boss too, and you just chopped off someone’s finger. I’ll stay formal for now if you don’t mind,” he teases.

Two other men who work for me climb into the SUV behind us and they follow as Gianni drives us back home to the estate.

The drive is quick since the Italian restaurant is so close to where we live. I barely have time to get comfortable before Gianni is pressing in the code for the front gate to open.

“I want you to get this ring estimated and cashed in,” I say as we come to a stop, tossing him the emerald piece of jewelry from the backseat.

He catches it without looking.

“I’ll have it done by the end of the day.”

I step out of the car and make my way up the steps just as my cellphone rings.

It’s Carmine.

I put it on speaker as I head into my office. “Hello?”

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