Page 31 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

I reminded myself that Virga wouldn’t be alive in three months’ time. Zani and I would begin making plans today. I didn’t care how many meetings I had to sit through, how many promises I had to hand out. I was going to kill this stronzo.

“Are we clear?” Virga asked. “Just so there are no misunderstandings later.”

“Yes.” I stared at the water, not really seeing it. I was tired of dangling on Virga’s strings. If I learned what he was planning, I could use it against him. “Something occurred to me,” I said. “Seems strange that I haven’t heard from Ravazzani. Then I thought, maybe he doesn’t know about the marriage yet.”

Virga’s eyes flashed and I knew I’d hit my mark.

“You haven’t told anyone,” I confirmed.

“It’s too soon. I won’t have this marriage annulled. When she’s carrying your child, Ravazzani can’t say shit—and that is when you are going to leverage her well-being for our Colombian contacts back.”

So not only was my wife a pawn, but my child, too? Was Virga so stupid as to think I’d agree to that?

A man carried a rectangular blue suitcase out onto the deck. Virga pushed up off the lounger, so I did the same, and he clapped me on the shoulder affectionately, like a father to a son. “Allora, Giacomo. Give your wife my apologies for keeping it.”

I started to move, but his fingers tightened on me, holding me in place. “One last thing. No more mantenuta until your wife is pregnant. We wouldn’t want you wasting any of your seed.”

My muscles clenched. “Does this mean I can’t jerk off, either?”

“You think this is a joke, Giacomo?” The barrel of a gun suddenly dug into my side as he snarled in my ear, “You worthless piece of shit. You aren’t fit to carry the Buscetta name. Your father and brother are rolling over in their graves right now.”

He shoved the gun deeper, between my ribs, but I didn’t react. He kept going, saying, “This is about loyalty and respect. Doing as you’re told. And if you disobey me again, I’ll put a fucking bullet between your sister’s eyes.”

I said nothing.

Finally, he pushed me away and put the pistol on a table. I went over to the suitcase and picked it up, ready to get the fuck out of there. As I started to leave, Virga’s voice called out behind me.

“Incidentally, has she told you about her father?”

I exchanged a look with Zani, but my friend looked as confused as I felt. “No,” I said. “Is there something I should know?”

He clamped his cigar in his teeth and rubbed his sagging chest with one hand. “I think I’ll let her tell you. Run along, ragazzetto.”

I led the way, Zani close behind me. Once we were off the yacht, I dragged the suitcase along, the wheels thumping on each plank of wood. Zani and I didn’t speak.

I’d purposely parked out of sight of the yacht. So when we returned to the car I popped the trunk and opened Emma’s suitcase on the ground. Going slowly, Zani and I took each piece of clothing out of the luggage, shook it, inspected it, then put the item inside the trunk. I even went through her panties—which were plain but surprisingly sexy—and her toiletries. I wasn’t taking anything from Virga without making sure it wasn’t bugged or bombed.

When the suitcase was empty, I closed the trunk and we got in the car. We left the suitcase in the parking lot and drove off.

I slammed my palm into the steering wheel. “Motherfucker!”

Zani began typing on his phone. A few minutes later, he said, “My contact in Toronto hasn’t heard anything about Mancini dying. He said orders are still getting around, though they’re coming through the brother, Reggie.”

“Mancini must be ill, then. It would explain why she wants to be there so badly.”

“It would also explain why Mancini didn’t resist the marriage.”

“Exactly. Because he couldn’t.”

“This complicates everything, Mo.”

“No it doesn’t, because Mancini isn’t my problem. Viv is my concern. First we find the rat at Mirabella, then we’ll get rid of Virga.”

“You know we can’t go against the capo without laying groundwork first.”

That meant meetings with the other families, making deals and giving promises. “It’s like a fucking spiderweb.”

My father would hate that I was now don. Nino had been the precious heir, the son anointed to wear the crown since he was born. But fate had put me in control of the kingdom, a position I resented. I’d rather jump into the ring and settle things with my fists.

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