Page 123 of My Mafia King

He’s been circling the area, seeking opportunities to weaken my position.

Sure, he’s losing money left and right, and I end up collecting it, but I’d rather not deal with him.

He picked a fight with someone at the bar after Carmina left last night. One thing led to another, and half an hour later, we had a brawl on our hands.

I hate it when that happens.

It’s not good for our image and my business overall because it affects my bottom line.

His shenanigans might be part of a bigger plan. And if this is what I think it is, I’ll have to talk to my uncle in New York and do something about it.

She wasn’t on my mind when I entered my suite last night. I didn’t want to think about her.

It was enough that I observed her the entire evening.

How she held her chin high and took everything in.

How she studied the place and the other people.

How she was curious about so many things.

It was interesting to watch. I don’t know what was going on in her mind. Whatever it was, she kept it for herself.

So when I got back to my place with my shirt drenched in blood, she was the last thing I had in mind.

But that changed when she came into the room.

I’ve never lived with someone, so having her with me is a unique experience.

And she is someone special to me because she doesn’t know much about life, and her reactions are candid and unscripted.

We sounded like a married couple at some point.

Her instinct tells her to take care of things. Be concerned and all that crap. And I can’t be mad at her.

By the same token, I know how vulnerable her having a pure soul makes her. And there are other things about her.

So, yeah.

Every day, I see her for what she is––a butterfly hovering over the flames of hell––and I know this isn’t the place for her.

So many places aren’t for her, including her home.

I watch her find pleasure in everything that doesn’t hurt her.

Things can’t get shittier than that.

But the more dangerous your life is, the more intense the moments of peace are.

I know that. I live like that. And that is about the only thing we have in common.

Although there may be more.

“There’s no problem,” I murmur when the leather couch squeaks as they slide into their seats behind me.

Reluctantly, I take my eyes away from the beautiful woman and her tiny swimsuit and turn around.

Gianni locks my eyes first.

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