Page 93 of Mafia Kings: Dario

Once the items were paid for and packed up, Massimo carried a bag in each hand. He made Valentino take the rest as we exited onto the street.

“I can carry them,” I protested.

He refused. “You’re a lady. Ladies don’t carry packages when there are gentlemen present.”

“I’m not a gentleman,” Valentino said with a smile, “so I shouldn’t have to carry them.”

“Shut up, pack mule,” Massimo replied affably, then licked his chops. “Now… where to eat?”

27

Dario

The Turk arrived three hours after Alessandra and my brothers left.

I watched from a window as he drove up in a small convoy of BMWs. When he got out of his car, two bodyguards flanked him on either side. Everyone else stayed in their vehicles.

I had instructed my men – the low-level foot soldiers who guarded the estate – to search them for weapons. Only once they were determined to be clean were they allowed inside.

Niccolo met them at the front door. Then he brought the Turk alone into the study where Roberto, Adriano, and I were waiting.

Lars wasn’t with us. He was stationed on the roof, waiting with his sniper rifle…

Just in case the Turk’s men got a bit unruly.

“Mr. Erdogan,” I said as I shook his hand.

“Don Rosolini,” the Turk said. He was an older man, probably 45, tall and impeccably dressed in a suit. He would have been handsome if not for the jagged scar that ran from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. “I have to say, I’m not used to being frisked like some common thug at a nightclub.”

His comment irked me. I wondered if that was the intended effect.

“Security is our highest priority,” I said coolly as we all sat down. “I’m sure you understand.”

“I know your uncle trusts me,” the Turk replied in his heavily accented Italian.

“Inthishouse, trust is earned. What can I do for you today.”

“Straight to business, eh?” he said with a grin that was made sinister by his scar. “Fausto said you would get right down to brass tacks.”

“I don’t want to waste my timeoryours.”

Niccolo gave me a disapproving look, but I disliked the man’s demeanor. There was a lack of respect in his tone that I found irritating.

My father wouldn’t have stood for it… and if Fausto did, then he was a fool – even if hewasmy uncle.

The Turk nodded. “Alright, here it is: we’re doing business with the Agrella family in Florence.”

The Agrellas were a rival family that ruled over most of Florence.

However,wewere the ones with the politicians and judges in our pocket.

The Agrellas ran the streets; the Rosolinis controlled the halls of government.

Our families had observed an uneasy alliance for over 20 years. It had never once been violated in all that time.

The Turk continued. “But, as we both know, I must go throughyourterritory in Tuscany to deliver my goods to the Agrellas. I’d like to leverage your connections to move my wares into Florence, for which you would receive a 10% cut of revenue. If there were additional issues I needed handling – say, bribing a judge or the police – I would be willing to negotiate those on a case-by-case basis.”

“10% is a bit low,” Roberto said. “We’d normally charge 20%.”

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