Taken by the Mafia Boss Read online

  “Fuck that,” the overweight soldier replied. “I’d shoot the bastard before I let him touch a daughter of mine.”

  Lucia just snorted and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the men to their game.

  Angelo cast Tomas a sidelong look, gauging the man’s poker face. Matteo watched the interaction closely. By doing that, Angelo had displayed his own tell.

  He’s got shit.

  Matteo slipped two cards down for trade.

  “Hey,” Ariano whispered to Matteo so the others wouldn’t hear. “Who do you think he’s bringing in?”

  Matteo allowed the question to hang in the air as he studied his cards, not wanting to meet the other man’s stare.

  It was something which had been weighing heavily on everyone’s mind for a while. Ever since…

  Matteo paused that thought.

  Ever since what exactly?

  It was unclear what had become of Marco but no one was dumb enough to openly question the Don about his missing capo. Whether the man had left on his own accord or been removed by force was not a publicly known fact.

  All Matteo knew for certain was that he and Ariano were pulling double duty in his absence. Enough time had passed that the men could glean Marco would not be back, which left only the question of who would be replacing him.

  “Tomas?” Angelo demanded.

  “I’m in.”

  Matteo observed his godfather up the ante before turning back to Ariano.

  “Hopefully someone from the old world.”

  Ariano snickered and Matteo’s phone dinged.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me. These fucking stronzos…”

  He snatched it, rising to his feet with resignation. He expected that it was Freddy again but as he looked at the cell, he sat down. Ariano’s phone chimed next.

  “What is it?” Ariano muttered, peering at his own device. All eyes were on the capos as they scanned the text before them.

  “What’s wrong?” Tomas demanded, trying to catch his nephew’s eye but Matteo could only look at Ariano, an uneasy sensation brewing in his gut.

  “Giovanni wants us.” Ariano explained, his tone nonchalant. But Matteo wasn’t fooled. Meetings with the Don had been few and far between in the past months. He simply didn’t call meetings like he used to.

  “For what?” Angelo demanded. “What did he say?”

  “He said ‘come to the restaurant in the morning’,” Matteo replied dryly. “Who’s in?”

  The men nervously exchanged looks around the table but the game continued, albeit with a more subdued undertone.

  Matteo tried not to think about what could have instigated the impromptu text. Giovanni was not one for texting. He was almost seventy and even picturing the man hunched over a cell phone, using his thumbs was comical. Moreover, in the last while, he had seemed content watching his business dealings from afar, as if he had lost all ability to give a shit in the wake of whatever the hell had happened with Marco.

  Again, Matteo’s phone dinged and he sighed, exasperated as he picked it up. That time, it was from Freddy who announced Bucky was conscious in the basement.

  “Vaffanculo!” he cursed to the soldier who couldn’t possibly hear him. He pushed the chair back.

  “I guess I’m out again.”

  His curse seemed to ease the mounting tension in the room and his comrades chuckled as he turned to storm back downstairs to deal with the mess Bucky and his wench had made.

  But as he moved toward the door to the basement, he caught Tomas’ eye and saw the worry on his godfather’s face. Matteo paused and offered the older man a quick, reassuring smile.

  Even after all these years, he still fears the worst.

  He didn’t give Tomas an opportunity for a counterreaction. There was no time for concern. If Giovanni wanted to collect on his debt, there was nothing Tomas or Matteo could do to stop him.

  Matteo was no longer the scared, taunted boy from his childhood in rural Italy. He had grown into a stunningly handsome man over the past twenty years. It was as if all he had been lacking were the rays of the Miami sunlight to grow him to his six foot four, ripped frame. Corrective laser surgery had abolished the lenses he had so desperately required in his youth and his stunning grey eyes pierced the souls of anyone who dared stare into them.

  On the outside, no one would have suspected that he was once insecure and tortured, but that was simply because Matteo had learned very young not to permit anyone access to what was happening inside his head.

  The constant threat that Giovanni would demand his due for saving his mother lingered, despite Matt’s personal opinion that he and Tomas had paid tenfold. Of course, Matteo had been far too young to know when they had come to America that it was the mob boss’ “generosity” which had funded Florentina’s way into the experimental trial.

  Tomas had known, however, selling himself and the boy out, without young Matteo ever having a clue that he would spend his life entangled in the familia.

  Then again, Matteo idly thought as he made he way back into the basement, what is the price on something invaluable? Would I have agreed to the terms if I’d known them then? Most definitely. He would do anything to save his mama.

  Indeed, Bucky was conscious, although Matteo did not have a lot of confidence in the bloated man’s appearance. He appeared as though he was going to pass out again any second.

  Freddy stood over him menacingly and Matteo glared at the soldier. He didn’t want Freddy’s fists to do more damage than they already had.

  “Let’s try this again,” Matteo sighed. “Where is the product, Bucky?”

  Tears welled up in Bucky’s bloodshot eyes and he shook his head miserably.

  “I swear to God I don’t know, Matt! Brandy, she—”

  “If you reiterate the same bullshit story you’ve given me for the last four hours, I’m going to lose my shit. And trust me, Bucky, no one wants that.”

  Freddy nodded in agreement, his face paling as if he was recalling the last time Matteo had had occasion to lose said shit.

  His tone was conversational but there was no mistaking the malice in his words. Matteo may have become better at hiding his emotions over the years, but that didn’t mean the rage he had accumulated from childhood wasn’t lurking just beneath the surface.

  Bucky inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks.

  Oh Jesus Christ. Don’t cry, stronzo. You’re only going to make it worse for yourself.

  Matteo didn’t speak the words aloud. He continued to stare at Bucky’s face impassively, waiting for the man to make the decision.

  Bucky could see the direness of his situation and silence hung heavily in the room as he stared imploringly at Matteo. The capo could almost see him shifting his weight from one foot to another like a child who needed to pee.

  “Boss…”

  “Shut up, Freddy.”

  Bucky shook his head again.

  “I swear to God—”

  “Shoot him.”

  Matteo had had enough.

  “NO!” Bucky howled but Matteo was already back on the stairs, his back to the captive. “No, Matteo! I’ll tell you what you want to know!”

  Exhaling, Matteo turned back and waved Freddy’s gun aside. The soldier looked so disappointed, Matt thought he might have two sobbing men on his hands.

  “What happened?”

  “S-she took it to sell! S-she was s-short on cash and…I didn’t know! I swear to—”

  “If you swear to God one more time…” Matteo trailed off.

  “I didn’t know!” Bucky wailed. “I didn’t know!”

  “How did she even know about it if you didn’t tell her?”

  “I-I-I— “ he stuttered and Matteo groaned to himself.

  Idioto!

  “Is she still in town?”

  Bucky sniffled.

  “I think she went to Jacksonville. The market is supposed to be hot there right now.”

  “She
better get a good price,” Matteo muttered. “Because she’s going to owe interest.”

  Bucky had no response. He shot his eyes downward and shook his head miserably. It was clear he was waiting for death.

  “Have mercy on me, Matteo! My only mistake was falling for the wrong woman—”

  Matteo held up his hand to stop the man from making a bigger fool out of himself.

  “Get him out of here,” Matteo growled to Freddy.

  “What do you want me to do with him?” The eagerness to kill was in Freddy’s half-crazed eyes.

  “Take him out to the everglades and put him into the tank.”

  Disappointment flooded Freddy’s face. It was not the answer he had been hoping to hear. Matteo idly wondered how anyone ever got to the point where they enjoyed taking a life as much as Freddy seemed to like it.

  “Oh,” Freddy mumbled. “Marco would have—”

  “Do I fucking look like Marco to you?”

  His tone was enough to silence Freddy who shook his head.

  “Do what I say.”

  Matteo made his way back up the steps, shaking his head and cursing Marco again. He had inherited both Freddy and Bucky from the absent capo, much like half the other problems he’d left behind.

  How many more problems can a guy bring when he’s not around? Matteo wondered, unaware that he was about to find out.

  Chapter Two

  Ariano leaned up against the hood of his car in the alleyway backing Il Toro.

  “You afraid to go inside? What happened to your balls?” Matteo cracked, stepping from his BMW to greet his comrade, but as he did, he saw Celine in the passenger seat, her lovely face poring over a cell phone screen.

  “Ah, sorry,” he muttered, not realizing the boss’ daughter was in earshot. He would have toned down his language slightly if he had.

  “I didn’t see you there, Celine.”

  She raised her blonde head and grinned at him, shaking her head.

  “What? You think my virgin ears haven’t heard worse?”

  Matteo smiled and turned his attention back his friend.

  “Why are you sitting out here? Is the Don not here?”

  “He’s here,” Ariano replied. He shot Celine a quick look which Matteo could not decipher.

  “He’s meeting with someone. He asked us to give him a few minutes. Actually, he ordered me outside.” Ariano seemed annoyed, but Matteo was more focussed on the information he’d been given.

  “Someone who?”

  Matteo could sense the undercurrents of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on and it filled him with an uneasy wariness.

  “New guy,” Celine offered when her lover didn’t speak. “He’s talking to the new guy.”

  “The new guy?” Matteo frowned. “As in, Marco’s replacement?”

  Ariano nodded.

  “Who is it?” Matteo demanded, leaning forward in anticipation.

  “Salvatore something. He’s fresh off the boat,” Celine piped in as Ariano scowled at her.

  “How the hell do you know that before I do?”

  Celine just smiled at him with a Cheshire cat grin.

  She stepped from the car, her long legs stretching beneath a peasant-style sundress and she snickered.

  “What good is it to be the boss’ daughter if I can’t tell my man and his friends the dirt?”

  Matteo had to smile appreciatively at her. She was not nearly the spoiled princess everyone thought her to be.

  She slid onto the hood of Arian’s Audi and Matteo looked away as the skirt of her dress rose to flash him inadvertently. She didn’t seem to notice as she cozied up to her guy.

  “He just arrived yesterday from Florence with his sister.”

  “Florence? My family was from near Florence. My mother is named after the city.”

  Matteo didn’t know why he felt the need to add that. Celine shot him a warm smile as Ariano snorted.

  “It’s sweet how much you love your mother,” the blonde said kindly. “I like how much you talk about her.”

  “I could do without it,” Ariano quipped. Matteo scowled at his friend, but he didn’t let Arian’s ribbing bother him. He had almost lost his mother and he intended to cherish every minute he had with her after such a scare, even if it meant subjecting himself to ridicule. After all, he was not a stranger to torment. Gentle teasing among friends was much different than what he had grown up around though.

  Coming to America had changed everything for Matteo, not just in appearance but in confidence. He had allies for the first time, and while he didn’t particularly like knowing that he was a puppet for Giovanni, he had to admit that he was much more comfortable being enveloped by the familia in the States than he had ever been in Italy.

  “I wonder if you knew him,” Celine continued, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she spoke. “His last name is on the tip of my tongue—”

  The back door flew open and Giancarlo grunted at them.

  “He’s waiting for you,” the gorilla muttered, spinning back toward the kitchen like making the announcement had physically pained him. He was Giovanni’s most trusted guard and while the man left a lot to be desired in terms of personality, he was a killer at heart, something that Matteo knew the Don appreciated in his security team.

  Ariano and Celine pushed their way off the hood and Matteo followed. His pulse had quickened and only seemed to escalate as he neared the dining room which was dimly lit. It never failed to disturb Matteo, the quiet of an unmanned restaurant.

  There was something eerie about a room filled with tables and chairs but lacking food, laughter, and people. The feeling was only magnified as the Don, Giovanni DiMarco, sat stoically in a booth, seemingly staring through them as they approached.

  “Go, Celine,” Giovanni said dismissively. “Men only.”

  He heard the blonde chuckle but Matteo was too busy staring intently at the man who sat at Giovanni’s left.

  Even from a seated position, Matteo could see he was tall, likely as tall as the capos who stood before him. His hair was a deep auburn and his complexion reflected that of Matteo’s southern countrymen. If not for a set of bright green eyes, there would be nothing particularly impressive about the man, yet Matteo found him unsettling.

  Salvatore, I assume.

  There was something ominously familiar about him, something Matteo couldn’t place. A twist in his gut told him that his sixth sense was trying to warn him about something, but of what and why?

  “See ya later, boys,” Celine chirped, and Matteo could almost feel her flirty wink as she whirled away to leave her misogynistic father among his flock.

  “Sit down.” Giovanni’s voice had always been guttural and low but in the past weeks, it seemed to have taken on a perpetually threatening undertone. There was no room for argument and the capos sat.

  “This is Salvatore.”

  Matteo didn’t move but Ariano nodded in greeting.

  “Ariano,” he introduced himself. He glanced at Matteo and grinned when he realized that he had no intention of speaking.

  “That’s Matteo.”

  “He will be covering the lower south end,” Giovanni continued.

  Marco’s territory.

  Neither capo commented, but for different reasons. Ariano was undoubtedly considering what had happened to Marco for the umpteenth time but Matteo couldn’t shake the sensation that he knew Salvatore—and that his association was not good.

  “That’s all.”

  Giovanni dismissed them, waving a jeweled hand as if they were a pesky annoyance and he had not ordered the meeting. Ariano rose instantly but Matteo couldn’t bring himself to move.

  “What are you waiting for?” the Don growled. “That’s all.”

  Matteo reluctantly rose to his feet and watched as Salvatore did the same.

  “I will be in touch,” Salvatore said in Italian, speaking for the first time, but his words were not for his new companions. He had directed his speech at Giovanni. The o
ld man didn’t seem to care.

  He’s losing his grip on everything, Matteo thought of the once all-powerful man. It would have been sad to see if he had liked the Don, but given the circumstances of his employment, he found it hard to pity the old bastard.

  Ariano would be taking over things one day, if Carlo Suzzi didn’t stand in the way. The underboss was getting old, all the boxing blows he’d taken in his youth affecting his ability to reason.

  As if that fucker ever knew how to reason in the first place.

  “Come on,” Ariano hissed, pushing him gently. “You’re staring like a fat kid in a candy store.”

  Matteo had no choice but to let himself be led out through the kitchen and into the alleyway again where Celine waited.

  “So,” she drawled with amusement. “How did it go?”

  “We drove through morning traffic for two sentences,” Ariano replied, shrugging. “I think your father just wants to ensure he’s still got the ability to make us jump when he says.”

  “You’re pale, Matt.” A crease of worry formed around Celine’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head in denial, unsure he should voice his concern. He was surprised that Celine was able to detect his unrest when he had spent years mastering a poker face. Clearly he was more disturbed by the meeting than he realized.

  What concern? I have a gut feeling. It’s not conclusive proof of anything.

  “Nothing,” he started to say but his answer was lost as Salvatore appeared in the alleyway. His green eyes met Matteo’s, a slow smile forming on his lips.

  “I can’t believe my eyes,” he muttered. “I thought I was crazy but it is you.”

  Matteo eyed him, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the obscure statement.

  “Do I know you?” he asked coldly. He couldn’t say why but he knew he did not owe Salvatore the benefit of civility.

  “Do you know him?” Ariano echoed, but the men were still locked in a stare. Matteo tried desperately to recall the name or the face but it was eluding him.

  “I was two grades higher than you but I still remember your little pig face,” Salvatore laughed. “Your ugly glasses and the way you would go crying to your padrino when the kids picked on you.”

  Rage shot down Matteo’s spine and he stepped closer to Salvatore, his face creasing into a mirthless smirk.