Page 23 of The Don's Hidden Heir

“And?” Marcus asks.

“The family has no idea when or how our shipment went missing,” Dante explains. “I don’t think that fucker Kirill Vadim had shit to do with it.”

“If not them, then who?” Lorenzo asks.

Marcus looks like he’s thinking for a while. “Do you think the Valentes have something to do with this, brother?”

I run my finger through my beard. The Valentes lead the Camorra mafia, and they’re just as messed up as the Bratva.

We—the Cosa Nostra—have never gotten along with those bastards because our codes of conduct are completely different. Those sickos have no problem with human trafficking, and that would always be a major problem for me.

There is no denying we’re all the same twisted bastards, but unlike the Camorra, the Cosa Nostra has limits. A rule we abide by.

It’s simple. Fuck as many whores as your cock needs, do whatever illegal business earns you some dollars, but don’t hurt women and children.

Our rivalry dates back decades, when a war broke out between our families. We’d won and drove the Valentes out of the city to protect the territories and the victims of their mindless brutality. Years after the war, the head of the Camorra, Victor Valentes called for a truce. My father allowed them return to New York when they agreed never to cross our territories, which I believe was his biggest mistake.

Despite the tension that has lingered between the Cosa Nostra and the Camorra, they’ve lain pretty low. I don’t have reason to suspect them, but I wouldn’t put it past them to make a move like this either.

“Meet Victor Valentes tomorrow,” I say to Marcus, “have him know I won’t sit quietly if he tries shit with me.”

“We’re not too sure they’re behind it, boss,” Lorenzo says. His brown, curly hair hangs over the side of his face. He’s a giant-sized guy with a head as big as his belly, but he handles a .45 caliber gun better than most men I’ve seen. Sadly, his brain is not as useful as his gun skills.

I swipe my tongue over my lips. “We don’t need to be sure, Lorenzo. We’re warning them, not killing them.”

He groans and rubs the gun tucked in his belt. “I wouldn’t mind leaving a few bullets behind. Something for them to remember.”

“Don’t.” I don’t mind shedding blood as long as it doesn’t belong to innocent people, but we have a war looming with the Russians already, it will work against us if we start a fight with the Camorra now. “Just do as I say.”

“Si,brother,” Marcus replies.

Dante finishes his drink and rises to his feet. “Good. The meeting is over, now it’s time to party.”

Lorenzo stands with him, his fat frame casting a shadow over me. “That whore right there has had her eye on you since we got here,” he says looking at one of the strippers grinding a pole across from us. “She wants you, man. See that ass.”

They both chuckle like mad men while I cringe in my seat.These fuckers.

“I’ll be drinking my whiskey off her cunt tonight, bro.” Dante claps Lorenzo’s shoulder. “Find yourself a bitch or jerk off at the thought of me fucking her cunt. Whichever one works for you.”

Lorenzo growls. “Fuck you, man.”

“I’ll be fucked soon enough.” Dante tucks his white shirt in his jeans and turns to storm off.

“Sit your fucking ass down,” I order as he’s about to leave. I hate to be the party killer, but I’ve still got stuff to discuss with them.

Both Dante and Lorenzo look at me in confusion, but they don’t argue. “Yes, boss?” They both answer in unison as they sit.

“Dante, find out what you can about the businesses Peterson has invested in. They must have something in common.”

“Si, boss,” Dante answers.

“And you.” I drag my gaze to Lorenzo. “Keep an eye on Elena. Make sure she’s safe at all times.”

He nods. “Yes, boss.”

I cross my legs and spread my arms on the armchair. “Get out! Both of you.”

They glance at each other, and then scurry away before I can change my mind.

---