Page 37 of My Mafia King

“The club manager?”

“Are you clever with me now?” I toss at Vito, who struggles to keep up with me as I move briskly toward my office. “I thought you knew everything about her by now,” I say.

“I do.”

He reaches inside his pocket despite knowing my vehement aversion to phones.

Anything digital makes my skin crawl as it’s such an expenditure and an around-the-clock operation to keep us safe.

We use digital things in our legit businesses, like security cameras and, yeah, some phones.

I was about to say the safe–deposit boxes, too.

No, not really.

One can argue anything can be broken into.

Yes.

No.

Not if that motherfucker can’t get close to that thing, and in this case, I’ll make sure they won’t.

“No phones.”

“No phones, Boss.”

He flicks his eyebrows up. And he’s so damn comical with his bushy eyebrows and creased brow.

He looks no different than the high school kid who used to play soccer in Long Island.

Vito‘Big Nose’Mancini is the same guy, only now, he packs more muscle and can make people disappear faster than a magician.

“Why?” he asks. “Is she someone important?” he murmurs as I push the doors open, and a vast area stretches out in front of us.

Three walls of glass usher in the scenic view of the sky and mountains.

The colors bleed red as the afternoon gets highjacked by the early evening.

I remove my suit jacket, toss it onto the leather couch, round the desk, and sink into my chair. The bulletproof glass obscures the view for anyone who tries to spy on us from outside the building.

I rest my elbows on the desk and casually glance at the large screens feeding live streams from around the hotel.

The casino, the club, the restaurants, and pretty much every corner of the establishment.

Things run smoothly.

I move my focus to Vito, who makes himself comfortable in a chair in front of me.

Gianni,‘The Quiet Cat,’ slides onto the couch just as the door opens, and Louie‘The Bird’enters the room.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” I say, tipping my eyes to the screens.

One of them gives me a glimpse of the Pavilion.

Carmina is still at the table, her gaze hovering over her plate before moving to the view.

She looks like someone who has nowhere to go.

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