Page 41 of My Mafia Queen

The somber tone of his voice makes me lift my gaze and read his eyes.

Paul, my uncle. The underboss.

“He’s having a family dinner in New York and wants you to join him.”

I stare blankly at him, thoughtfully chewing on my food.

“He couldn’t reach out to me?”

“He wanted me to tell you.”

“Hmm,” I say, straightening in my seat and running my napkin over my lips.

My uncle, who is my direct boss, wants to talk to me in private.

That’s what having a family dinner means.

Other people may be at that event, but this mostly has to do with me.

“When?” I ask.

“A week from Monday.”

I ponder the news.

“All right,” I say before drinking water and continuing to eat. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Why do you think it’s a problem?” I toss at him evenly before putting more food into my mouth.

“Some‘family’dinners didn’t turn out that well,” he says, and I tilt my head down in agreement a couple of times.

It’s true.

One time, we briefly engaged in war with another family, which created many problems but eventually led to sustainable peace.

I don’t imagine we’re talking about war now. Although the tension is there, and it’s constantly growing.

The conflicts are usually nipped in the bud.

That doesn’t mean they don’t exist or challenge us.

I see it now. Here.

We clash with all kinds of players. Small, big, and in between.

We put on a mask and a smirk, playing it cool, but Boris hasn’t been cool at all.

Maybe Paul has some news about the Russians. I want nothing more than to wipe Boris’ smirk off his face.

I can’t stand the motherfucker.

And then, I want to control some parts of LA and expand my business.

Things would be better if I had the green light to do that instead of establishing weak alliances with shady characters.

I’ll replace my uncle one day, and things will definitely change.

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