Page 53 of My Mafia King

The man looks at me like he can’t grasp the meaning on my words.

Louie smacks him upside the head, and he reacts, pulling at the ties.

That’s all it takes, and the three men in front of me violently push him back, his head lolling from their jabs.

I lift my hand, and they stop.

“He won’t talk if his jaw is broken,” I say.

Huffing, annoyed, they step back.

“Name, motherfucker,” I say again.

The woman seems frozen in her seat.

Except for the flicker of light in her eyes and the pale pink color across her cheeks, she looks like she’s carved out of cold stone.

Her frame is tense, and her fingers are crooked around the lapels of my jacket. Something about her fingers digging into my expensive suit messes with my focus for a second.

“Yes?” I say, shifting my attention to the man.

“Beau. Beau Anthony.”

The faces of my men go long with surprise before they chuckle.

Slightly more subdued, Gianni grins, amused.

“Beau?”

He nods.

All right.

I won’t hold it against him.

Parents make bigger mistakes than that.

Clearly, they didn’t think their kid would grow up to be an asshole when they picked his name.

“What’s your story, Anthony?”

I can’t make myself say his first name.

Saying his first name while having him in front of me would put a smile on my lips, and that would chip away at my authority.

“No story, man.”

“Don’t fucking‘man’me,” I say, and Vito swiftly reaches inside his jacket, swings his arm in Anthony’s direction, and presses a gun to the man’s temple.

“Think carefully before you speak,” he says.

I move closer and flick my chin to Vito, who steps back, his gun still pointed at the man’s head.

I’m not in the habit of being uselessly violent in front of women.

Men?

That’s a different story.

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