Page 4 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

I hurried to the ground floor. By the time I reached the front door I was breathing hard. I swung it open and found three well dressed men staring at me. “May I help you?”

The strangers moved forward, pushing past me to enter the house. I stepped back, out of reach, as a sense of foreboding crawled over my skin. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Signorina Mancini,” the older one said, his Italian accent thick. “May we sit?”

Thanks to my upbringing, I recognized dangerous men when I saw them. And these three definitely qualified. Blank flat stares? Check. Guns bulging under their suit coats? Check. A lack of respect for personal space? Check.

I fought to stay calm. “Tell me who you are first.”

He ignored me. Instead, he strode into the formal sitting room and lowered himself into a chair. The other two men followed, standing behind the man now seated. They appeared bored, but I knew better. These were killers.

The guards let them through. The guards would never let a threat near the house.

This eased my worries somewhat, until I thought about my father upstairs. I had to get rid of these men before they discovered our secret. If word got out that Papà was sick, everything we had would be stripped away by his enemies. This house, the cars. The protection and money. We’d have nothing—and we’d never be able to afford Papà’s care.

I took the seat farthest away from the one in the chair. He wore a fancy gold watch and had the straightest, whitest teeth I’d ever seen. Dark hair was slicked off his large forehead. Early to mid-fifties, if I had to guess.

“We’re sitting,” I said. “Now, please answer my questions.”

“My name is Bernardo Virga. Have you heard of me?”

Swallowing, I shook my head.

He frowned, as if this answer disappointed him. “Your family has done you a disservice, then, Signorina Mancini.”

“Why? What are you talking about? And how did you get past the guards outside?”

“Do you know anything about a meeting three months ago between your brother-in-law and Don Buscetta?”

Did he mean Fausto? Why on earth would this man think I knew anything about the Ravazzani empire? I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. “No.”

“You see, signorina, I am responsible for the whole of Sicily.Capisce? And Don Buscetta is the head of one of my most importantcosche.” He waved his fingers. “Clans. ”

I knew how the mafia worked. If what Virga said was true, then he wasil capo dei capi. The boss of all bosses.

And he was sitting here in Toronto. In my living room.

This was a very bad sign.

“You see, Don Ravazzani and Don Buscetta are at odds. It’s a long string of disagreements, the nature of which I will not bore you with. However, these things need to be settled amicably. The way it is going now is very bad for all of us. Too public. Too dangerous.”

“And you wish to speak with my father about this?” It was the only logical conclusion.

“No. I am here to see you.”

My stomach collapsed in on itself like a popped balloon. This couldn’t be good. “Me?”

“Sì, signorina. You see, a simple solution to the bad blood has been decided. Yet neither side has moved to accept it. I am here to get the process started.”

That sounded ominous. But I had no idea what Fausto’s disagreement with this Buscetta person had to do with me. “By doing what?”

“By collecting you. I suggest you go and pack a bag, signorina.”

“Pack a—”

Oh. The words collided in my brain and the puzzle began to solve itself.Sicily . . . bad blood . . . solution . . . pack.

Holy smokes.

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