Page 2 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

Virga cleared his throat. “We must settle this discord because it is bad for business.”

“We can’t have more dead bodies in the streets,” Borghese agreed. “Car bombs and shootings. This brings unwanted attention to everyone. The police are agitated over these murders, making arrests. Looking for people to blame.”

“That is a shame,” Ravazzani said, not sounding sympathetic in the least. His consigliere smirked and I longed to punch each of them in the face.

“It makes problems for me,” I said. “Which in turn could make problems for you.”

The amusement instantly disappeared on the other side of the table. Don Ravazzani asked softly, “Is this a threat?”

Was he fucking serious? Of course it was a threat. Unlike my late father and brother, I never said anything I didn’t mean.

“Signori,” Borghese said. “Let us remain calm.”

Calm? Did he honestly think this meeting was a good idea? “Why are we here? This is a waste of everyone’s time.”

“We must settle this,” Virga said. “Make peace. Otherwise, we are in the newspapers with the Guardia di Finanza crawling up all our asses.”

“And what do you propose?” Ravazzani leaned back in his chair. “Because I am not changing the way I do business.”

Meaning he wouldn’t cut me into his drug trade, thepezzo di merda. Ravazzani took what used to be a Sicilian staple and made it his own. The Cosa Nostra still controlled the gun trade, but I wanted both. I intended to take everything back.

“Don Virga and I have discussed this,” Borghese said. “We would like to join the two families in marriage.”

“Fuck no,” and “Absolutely not,” Ravazzani and I answered at the same time.

At least we agreed on this.

“We are not asking,” Borghese said, his voice as brittle as ice. “It is our job to see it settled and this is what we have decided. Neither of you have a choice. There will be a wedding between your two families.” He sat back, a slick grin on his face. “And we have just the bride in mind.”

Bride . . . WasIthe groom?Che cazzo? I didn’t want to marry anyone, no matter who gave the order. Fuck heirs, fuck the traditions. I never intended on having a family of my own. I would serve as the boss on my terms, not anyone else’s.

“You carry too much anger, Giacomo.”

My mother’s words when I was a young boy still haunted me, but they were true. A further example of why I’d never carry on the Buscetta line. One of my brother’s many bastards could have the crown when I died.

Ravazzani spoke first. “There is no female in my household, save my two-year-old daughter. Since you can’t possibly mean her, then I don’t know who you are proposing.”

“Your wife has two sisters, no?” Virga said. “Unmarried and of age, I believe.”

Almost everyone in the room froze. The Mancini twins, younger sisters of Francesca Ravazzani, were well known in our circles. Their mother had been a famous Italian model who married a Canadian mob boss. That sort of thing wasn’t easily forgotten by men like us.

But marry a Mancini?Ma dai. “You mean the one shacked up with D’Agostino since last summer?” I asked with a derisive snort. “Fairly certain he won’t like it if you marry her off to someone else.”

“No,” Borghese said. “The other sister. Emma.”

“That is off the table,” Ravazzani said calmly. “I won’t allow it.”

Virga continued like Ravazzani hadn’t spoken. “Buscetta will marry the Mancini girl and receive some of the Toronto business. Then you will all act like one big happy fucking family,capisce?”

Toronto business? After Ravazzani stole the Colombians from us? Ma dai, what a goddamn insult.

I kept my tone steady, unyielding, as I folded my hands on the table. “I’m not marrying anyone—no matter who gives the order and what business I gain. Ravazzani and I will settle this shit between ourselves, without the need for a wedding.”

Borghese and Virga traded a glance, but I couldn’t decipher it.

“Finally, some sense.” Ravazzani stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “I assume we’re finished here. I need to return to Siderno.”

I rose, as well. “And I must get back to Palermo.”

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