Page 142 of My Mafia Queen

Vito takes a seat across from me and looks at a different set of screens. One is live-streaming from around the house.

The Tuscan-style villa is perched on a hill, and the view is part of its appeal.

Vito fusses with his drink, and my eyes shift to him while he seems completely captivated by what he sees on one of the screens.

“Boss?” he mutters, not looking at me, engrossed in what he’s doing. “Take a look at cameras ten and eleven.”

I shift my focus to the fourth screen and check the two cameras. One offers a view of the street while the other displays the panoramic view of LA, and both of them cover the area around the property.

I switch to a different view angle, and what seemed apparent in the first two livestreams has just been confirmed.

“I’ve never seen so much traffic on this road,” he mumbles, dark.

I count twelve cars with their lights on low as they slowly crawl up the hill heading this way.

“Not even when our famous neighbor threw a party…” he drones on.

“There is no party now,” I say dryly. “The only party is us.”

“How many do you see?” he asks.

“Twelve. But there are more. Some of them have their lights turned off. And they’re moving slowly, so they don’t attract attention.”

Most people wouldn’t care either way.

It’s an area where people are used to seeing the strangest things.

“They’re ten minutes away, Boss. What’s the plan?”

I fish out a cigarette from inside my suit jacket before slipping it between my lips and lighting it.

“They did us a favor,” I say around my cigarette while sliding my jacket on. “Let’s go.”

“No party?” Vito says, straightening out of his chair.

I head to the vault, open it, and give them more ammunition before grabbing an automatic weapon for myself in addition to what I usually carry.

“Not this time. We don’t have time for this,” I say, exiting and locking the vault. “They thought they were clever, setting us a trap.”

“They know a whole lot of stuff about us,” he says as we pull out of the basement, and a thick metallic door shuts behind us.

“You think we’re the only ones watching our enemies? I wouldn’t be surprised if they worked with the Russians. Anything is possible at this point.”

“No fear of rats?” he tosses at me.

“I don’t care about the rats. It’s easy to deal with them. Although, I doubt someone called them and told them where we were. They probably knew about this place and expected us to come here. We’ll figure this shit out later.”

I’m the last to walk up the stairs.

“What about this?” he says, tilting his chin toward the basement.

“Unless they want to nuke it, I’m not worried about it. Make sure the security system is turned on, and let’s give them a taste of the big-budget movie production we have put together for them,” I say, grinning around my cigarette.

“I wish I could see their faces,” he says.

“We all will,” I say, tapping a tablet I have swept off my desk and kept especially for this.

With that, we follow a secret underground corridor, exit the property at the other end, welcome the fresh air rolling over our faces, and enter a secret garage.

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