Page 38 of My Mafia King

Eventually, she picks up her phone and fiddles with it briefly before making a call.

Her face is unreadable, and she only speaks a few words.

It’s business-related, if you ask me.

His face is long, and her eyes are vacant.

I wonder who the person at the other end of the phone line is.

She quickly ends the call and slides another piece of cake onto her plate.

I’m certain that she has no place to go.

“I’m listening,” I say as Giani looks at me.

I quickly remember he’s asked me a question.

“In what way important?” I ask.

He gives up on getting a real answer from me.

“She could be anyone. I have to make sure she’s not someone’s spy,” I say.

“She ran into you,” Louie says, propped against the back of a chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

“She did,” I say, leaning back into my seat. “And I want to know who she is. And while you’re at it, fire the people in charge of stopping them from getting into that elevator. This could’ve been a real headache had these two been involved with that motherfucker gangster from LA. What’s his face? Lizard something?”

They all laugh.

I chuckle, too, because it’s funny.

The line of men trying to replace me or take over my territory is a mile long.

Let’s be frank. I’m not in the business of making friends, and I had a couple of contracts put on my life.

We clashed. I won. They’re dead.

It was about the money––it always is––but some people are sour losers and take it personally while for others, it’s a matter of survival.

If I’m gone, they get their chance at occupying this territory, at least until the next Capo takes my place.

I didn’t ask to run this part of the country. I was told where to go, and I came here to run our business.

The Underboss, my uncle, asked me that. He runs our criminal organizationde facto.And yes, things have changed since I became a made man. We’ve both moved up.

I had no problem coming here. I don’t care where I go. Besides, I like this life. The clubs. The gambling. The women.

I even like the weather, although I’m not an outdoorsy guy. Not these days, anyway.

There’s only one thing I don’t like and never do. Trafficking innocent people.

Delivering a gangster? Sure. No problem. I’m in the delivery business, but the women working for us must do it willfully or not at all.

And that pet peeve of mine extends to the people doing that for a living, too. I have a special thing for them. And it’s partially because of my past and the girl I lost.

My uncle, who plans to have me replace him at some point, likes everything about me.

How swiftly I solve a problem.

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