Page 13 of His Deadly Lies

I can see myself at his age saying the same damn thing to my father. The only differences, in this case, are that I’m not Ricardo’s dad, and my own father would have backhanded me for the comment. Size doesn’t matter as long as you make your enemies think you are packing. In girth or in bullets.

“My big cock aside”—I purposely reach down to adjust my dick in my pants—“there is a certain image you must maintain as a Vittorio. Our family name is honorable. Remember that.”

I finish with the tie, making sure each button is looped through the right hole, and turn to face Ricardo.

Ricardo Assante, mid-twenties, has a full head of roguishly black hair, a narrow face, and a smile that hints of madness. It’s a tool like any other in his arsenal and one I’ve helped him craft throughout his life to prepare him for what’s to come.

I’m forty-two, and I’ve never had any children of my own, so it gives me point-blank room to spoil my sister’s kids. Too bad for Ricardo I’ve had to tread a careful line between spoiling him and preparing him for what would come when he takes over for me. On that cold day in hell, when I finally kick the bucket, and the devil is forced to make space for me.

I started this business from the ground up, claiming a small slice of this area in Ohio for my own. The fastest way to get rich is to do things below the law. It’s also the fastest way to paint a target on your back. Luckily for me, my sister Yvette shared the same ideals and helped me get things off the ground. For a cut, of course. Her young son would be my successor.

I agreed.

“I need you to be on your best behavior for the meeting today,” I tell Ricardo, stepping back to adjust the sharp corners of the bowtie he insisted on wearing like some kind of punk. I won’t tell him that again, though. We’ve already had the conversation a thousand times. “Please. No fucking jokes while we’re there.”

His dark eyes search mine, my sister’s eyes. “Reminding me is an insult. I already know what to do. Stop punishing me for the one time I made a joke about old man Balestra’s veneers.”

Something cold and hard lodges in my chest at the name of my number one competitor. The family who carved out the trade routes in this area. The Balestras are mafia royalty in this area of the country.

One day? If everything goes according to plan? Ricardo will be right up there in the upper echelons. I have a gut feeling I won’t be alive to see it.

The morning sun filters in through the windows of my bedroom, the curtains thrown open. Ohio, in the early summer, is already too hot for me to have the windows open. The AC runs at full blast.

And these meetings…fuck these meetings, but they’re necessary to keep the balance between the three top players. The Accardis and I are several tiers below the Balestras, but we’ve formed a tentative alliance of sorts. The meetings keep us all in line and accountable. As accountable as the mafia can be to each other.

“I have to remind you about your family’s honor. Why not this? We have to present a united front with the Balestras,” I say.

“I know what to do,” Ricardo insists, and the hint of teasing in his tone is overshadowed by hard steel.

For a quick flash, pride wells up in front of me.

He’s his mother’s son, but he’s my prodigy. The steel is my influence entirely.

“I didn’t realize we were in a Disney movie, Unc,” he continues. His features lighten in a wicked smile. “Are you going to start lecturing me about honor and put it to music? Never really thought you were the creative type.”

I give him a light tap on the cheek, an indication that I find him ready to go. “I’m creative in ways that don’t involve singing or playing an instrument.”

“I know. I’ve heard you singing in the shower.”

One last look in the mirror, adjusting the top button of my shirt that is slowly strangling me.

“You know, there probably won’t be many more of these Kumbaya sessions before old man Balestra announces who he’s giving his princess to.” I voice the thought out loud.

He also hasn’t said anything explicitly in terms of his oldest daughter, but it’s obvious to anyone with half a fucking brain. Mia Balestra is a virgin at twenty-five and her father’s greatest bargaining tool. If he hasn’t already thought of a match for her, then he’s running out of time.

We’ve had four meetings in the past two months. We’re getting closer.

“An alliance with them means bigger goods, bigger goods means—”

“Bigger payouts,” Ricardo fills in for me. “Yes, I’ve got it. You have literally beaten this into me.”

I smirk. “I had to know your strengths and weaknesses. As a good bodyguard should.”

Ricardo gripes and drops his head back on his neck, his mouth open for another smart-ass retort as my phone rings shrilly from the flat table to the left side of the mirror.

The name on the screen is one I expect, but it still seems odd to see it there. The same way it does whenever the calls come through.”

I pause for a brief second before reaching out to answer the call and pressing the button to put it on speaker. “Vittorio.”

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