Page 50 of My Mafia King

“Proven methods always work. Where are they?”

They crash onto the couch in front of me.

“Had dinner?” I ask, lifting my gaze.

“We ate downstairs,” Louie says, reaching inside his jacket.

“Not here, Louie. I’m not smoking in here. You won’t do it, either.”

“I forgot, Boss,” he says, grinning.

I flick my eyes to Vito.

“They’re in a van, tied up, gagged, and stripped of their goodies. I let them marinate before releasing them back into the wild.”

Chewing, I give him a small smile.

“Good thinking,” I murmur, gesturing with my knife. “You found something on them?” I ask seriously this time.

“Nope. They were clean,” he says, running a hand over his brow.

His clothes look sharp, and I can’t spot a bruise or a scratch on his hands. That’s what I like about him.

He is efficient and never leaves clues behind.

“Heard from Gianni?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

It’s been a while, so I glance at my watch.

“Go check on him,” I say before emptying my glass of wine.

I barely finish my drink and put the glass down when someone else knocks on the door.

They’re already pushing up.

“This must be him,” Louie says.

Gianni has a particular way of knocking on the door. It’s like a secret message. Knock, knock. Pause. And then another knock.

I don’t know what the hell it means.

But we all know it’s him.

I tip my chin toward the door, and Vito closes the distance with a few large strides.

I push my chair back, rise, and saunter to my desk just as the third man enters the room.

Shrugging my suit jacket on, I study him.

His expression is bland, yet his eyes can’t entirely suppress his concern. I know Gianni and can read him even when he refuses to let anything out, which is practically all the time.

I don’t feel like sitting, so I move around my desk, collecting a cigarette from inside my pocket and playing with it.

Not lighting it.

I never light them.

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