Page 136 of Mafia Kings: Dario

My heart felt heavy as I watched the red taillights disappear into the night…

…and then I went inside and shut the door.

I flicked on the nearest light switch –

And shrieked when I saw a man sitting in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows.

He was unshaven with several days’ worth of stubble. A half-empty whiskey bottle sat next to him on the table.

It was my father.

“Papa?!” I cried out, happy and yet bewildered. “What are you doing down here so late?”

He looked up at me with a spark of happiness –

But it was swallowed up by the misery in his eyes.

“My darling,” he whispered with a sad smile. “I wish you hadn’t come back.”

Four men dressed in black stepped out of the shadows.

I shrieked and stumbled backwards –

Just as the door opened behind me and rough hands grabbed my shoulders.

One of the men walked forward into the light.

He was around 45, tall, and dressed in a suit.

He would have been handsome if not for the jagged scar that stretched from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth.

“Alessandra,” the man said in a Turkish accent. “So glad you could join us.”

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“Sit,” the man said.

I had no intention of obeying, but the thug behind me forced me over to Papa’s table and into a chair.

I was beginning to think I was the greatest fool ever born for leaving the mansion and Dario’s protection.

“Papa, what’s going on?!” I asked frantically.

My father looked at me with such despair that it frightened me even more.

“I wish you hadn’t come back,” he repeated.

“But I, for one, am so glad you did,” the man with the scar said. “My name is Mehmet Erdogan – although the Rosolinis probably referred to me as the Turk. Ah, yes – I can see by your face that you know who I am. Good. It was my associate who was gunned down in your café two weeks ago. Seems like such a long time, doesn’t it? Tell me, Alessandra – what do the Rosolinis think about what happened that night?”

I looked over at my father –

And the Turk slammed his fist down on the table.

BAM!

I flinched and cried out.

“Look atme,Alessandra, not him,” the Turk instructed. “I’ll repeat my question one more time: what do the Rosolinis think about what happened that night?”

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