Page 93 of My Mafia King

“Vito?” Damaso barks, spinning around and signaling to his men.

They instantly start pushing the Russians out.

“Boss?” one of them says, looking at the man in front of me, who watches Damaso go back to the–deposit box.

“Go,” Damaso says to him, and they all leave the room.

It’s only Damaso, me, and the Russian.

My boss reaches inside the safe–deposit box and pulls out two big stacks of one hundred dollar bills wrapped in plastic.

He tosses them to the Russian, who catches them, an avaricious smile on his face.

He nods, satisfied, as if he’s planned to get the money he’d previously handed to Damaso all along.

He tucks them under his arm and flashes a full-mouth grin that makes me nauseous.

“It was nice doing business with you,” he says.

Damaso says nothing.

The Russian flicks his eyes to me.

“Try to stay out of trouble,kukla,”

Doll.

He winks at me, and I’m about to throw up in my mouth.

He shifts away, about to leave the room, when he stops and turns around.

“One last thing before I go…” he says, looking at Salla. “Make her strip. I want to make sure she’s not wearing a wire.”

Is this man for real?

I shoot my eyes to Damaso, who weighs the situation while we wait for him to speak.

He looks like he’s about to empty his gun into the Russian’s head. There’s no love lost between them. That’s for sure.

Slowly, he emerges from his frozen state and heads to us.

He nudges the Russian to the side and stops in front of me.

My heart beats in my mouth as I look at him with fearful eyes.

His gaze glints when he locks my stare.

“Turn around,” he says emotionlessly.

I do as I’m told.

“Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

“What…?”

The word falls, limp, from my lips.

“Do as I say,” he barks, and I spin around and reluctantly position myself for a pat down, my soul shaking.

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