Page 147 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“There’s no reason to involve the women in this sort of discussion,” Ravazzani said. “My request is not unreasonable. All I want is a percentage of D’Agostino’s computer fraud business.”

Ah. This was how D’Agostino made his billions, with hackers all over the globe.

“A percentage,” D’Agostino said with a roll of his eyes. “You won’t be happy until you take control of it.”

“Thirty percent,” Ravazzani said.

That caused D’Agostino to laugh—a deep, full-on belly laugh. “Keep dreaming, stronzo.”

Ravazzani didn’t like that one bit. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “And,” he said as if D’Agostino hadn’t denied him, “I want thirty percent of the Sicilian gun market.”

I sat up straight in my chair. Thirty percent? Of my empire? “No fucking way.”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Mancini said, dragging a hand down his face. “Here is what I propose. Ten percent across the board. Enzo, you give ten percent of the fraud business to Fausto. Giacomo gives ten percent of the guns to Enzo. And Fausto gives ten percent of the drug trade to Giacomo. Everyone wins.”

Except it didn’t feel like winning. It felt like losing.

“This is not equal,” D’Agostino said. “Ten percent of my profits is considerably more than a few pistols and rocket launchers.”

Idiota. He had no idea of the volume and scale of the arms business, apparently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mancini said. “What matters is that the three of you are invested in each other’s success. You’ll stop working at cross purposes and work together. For the sake of my daughters.”

I didn’t like it, but how could I refuse my father-in-law this request the night before my wedding? Emma would want peace and harmony between the family.

Sometimes you had to take a punch or two before emerging victorious.

“This is why you’re a great don . . . You’re smart, calm, disciplined.”

My bambina. For her, I could do this.

“I agree,” I said loudly.

Ravazzani stared at the wall, his jawline like granite, not saying a word. After a long beat D’Agostino let out a breath. “Fuck it. I also agree.”

“Fausto?” Mancini prompted when the other man remained silent.

Ravazzani rolled the crystal tumbler in his fingers, then brought it to his lips. He downed the liquid in one swallow. “I don’t like strengthening the Cosa Nostra. The GDF are all over their ass nowadays. They could bring us down, too.”

“You are not strengthening the Cosa Nostra,” Mancini explained. “You are working with Buscetta, and only Buscetta. He’s the single powerful family left, now that Virga has been killed.”

“Which means the GDF will be focusing on him,” Ravazzani said.

“They won’t find anything,” I said. “I work much differently than my father and brother.”

Ravazzani stroked his jaw. “Perhaps, but I will pass on the name of my contact there. You can work out a price.”

For protection. I nodded once. “Appreciate it.”

“Does this mean you agree?” Mancini asked him.

“If I don’t,” Ravazzani said, “my wife will never let me hear the end of it. So, I have no choice but to say yes.”

“Thank Christ.” Mancini pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. “Now, the three of you will seal this deal with blood.”

* * *

Emma

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