Page 63 of My Mafia King

Something you always want to sleep in, not only when you’re home coming from work and you’re exhausted but also on a Sunday afternoon or a Saturday morning when you can’t wait to take a nap.

When the blinds are closed, yet not closed enough not to let in the sun. And you wrap your body in cold, crisp sheets, feeling guilty, although not entirely, that you’re in a relationship with your bed while other people are out and about, doing things outside their homes.

Hmm…

I find myself smiling as I imagine that sweet life and the moments when I’d sleep just because it felt good and the bed was so soft and comfortable I couldn’t resist the idea.

I swallow the last piece of pie, clean up the table, and dispose of the boxes before going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth.

Later, I come back and ponder whether to put on my sweatpants. I decide against it since they’re not clean.

I remember that my dress is not clean either, and I check out the phone numbers on my little card to see if they offer cleaning services.

They do.

I call the number despite being late, and they answer right away. They assure me my dress and everything else would be ready for me in the morning.

Minutes later, a man picks up my clothes. I thank him and close the door before making a beeline to the bed.

I’m spent.

Half smiling, I crash on the bed, face down, my arms spread over the nice-smelling covers, and I close my eyes.

It smells so good. And I’m so tired.So tired…A quiet voice repeats in my head. I’m almost at the point of falling asleep, even thinking I have already had a wink of sleep, when a firm knock on the door pushes me back to reality.

I jerk up and glance over my shoulder, my heart beating in my throat.

Who the fuck is this?

I haven’t asked for anyone else.

11

DAMASO

Earlier

“I knowwho the fuck you are,” Beau mumbles through his swollen, blood–stained lips.

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“I’m not dealing if that’s what bothers you,” he says, desperation beaming in his voice.

“Color me unimpressed. I don’t care whether you’re dealing or not. You won’t fuck with my women or threaten me. You’re lucky you’re still alive––I’ve told you that already. But your luck won’t last forever. Do you know why people like you never work for me? Because they can’t get anything done. They always get caught up in some shit. Like you, motherfucker,” I say, washing my hands in the sink and rolling my sleeves down.

He’s wrapped in towels as Vito is still very much concerned with the floors more than anything else.

“What do you want me to do with him, Boss?”

Drying my hands with a towel, I ponder.

“Clear the fucking van of those losers and put him in. Let him contemplate his life for a while, then send him home.”

I drop the towel on the edge of the sink before moving closer to him and picking up my jacket from the floor.

I inspect it and put it on.

“Listen to me carefully. I don’t care whether you're some gang member. I don’t care whether you’re a small-time crook or Joe Lizard’s right-hand man. You stay out of my face. And don’t think for a second he will start a war because I’ve made you disappear. He’s not stupid. He has no business being here. And you, on the other hand, have nothing to do with Carmina Leto. Get it into your head. Do you understand?”

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