Page 19 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince

DARIO

I walk to the end of the pier and call the number back, heart pounding, head full of violent notions.

Jeremaih answers on the second ring.

“You’ve got some nerve threatening a civilian, you stupid fuck,” I snarl.

“I didn’t know it wasn’t you on the other end of the line.”

“Then it’s even worse. It means you were threatening me. How do you imagine that’s going to end for you? How do you think this is going to go?”

Jeremaih and his goons have been trying to push hard drugs on our Family’s turf. I’ve tried to be civilized with them because my father wants to take the high road, but it’s reaching a boiling point. Eventually, it’ll be time for blood.

“I want what was promised.”

“Nothing was promised ,” I grit out. “My father said he might arrange payment if you went peacefully. But you didn’t. You busted into one of our clubs and disrespected us on our own turf.”

“And you broke my second’s jaw in two places, Dario! That’s a fair trade.”

“You need to drop this,” I growl. “I’m serious. Let it go or face the consequences.”

“Big words for a man who fled the country.”

“If you’re living under the delusion that anyone in the Bianchi Family would ever run from you, Jerry, you’re sorely mistaken. And I’ll be happy to show you the error of your ways when I come home.”

“Aye, or maybe we’ll use your little vacation as an opportunity to show you who we really are. When the cat’s away…”

“You know I’m not scared of you.”

“I know that’s true, but maybe you should be.”

“Jerry,” I snarl. “You need to stop calling me. Stop making threats. You’re only making this worse for yourself.”

“Who answered the phone, Dario? You finally found a lady down there? Is that it?” When I don’t say anything, he goes on. “It is, isn’t it? That silence tells me all I need to know. Maybe I’ll find out who it is, pay her a visit.”

“If you ever threaten her again, I’m going to wipe out your entire bloodline.”

Something in my tone shifts the mood of the entire conversation. Perhaps he can tell I mean it.

“Your brothers, your uncles, your old man. Only your women and your children will be safe. Everyone else-anyone who’s so much as taken a fucking collection for you -will be in the dirt.”

“Juh-Jesus, Dario.”

“That’s the way it is.”

“You know this is how business is done. These are the sort of words men say when they’re trying to get theirs.”

“I will paint the city in your blood if you even think about making a threat like that again. Listen to my voice; tell me I don’t mean it. Tell me I’m bluffing.”

“Jesus,” he repeats.

“You’ve been on the whiskey, I’d bet. It’s three in the goddamn morning there. Been on the whiskey and now you want to play the tough guy. The game’s over. You’ve overplayed your hand. Hang up this phone and think seriously, Jerry, sincerely ask yourself… do you want to start something with me?”

I let a moment pass, then go on.

“I’m not talking about my father or my uncle or my godfather.

I’m talking about me , Jerry, because that’s what you’ll get if you press this point.

I’ll come down on you and yours like it’s my sole purpose in life.

If it means doing the rest of my life in a super max prison, I’ll do it.

Understand?” I squeeze the phone so hard I’m afraid I might break it. “ Understand? ”

After a pause, Jeremaih mutters, “I get ya, Dario. I… yeah, let me sober up and think on this.”

“Good man.”

I hang up the phone, close my eyes and take a moment. I never normally let myself go like that. But even if Jeremaih was fishing when he mentioned Siena, even if he doesn’t know who she is, it was still a button he shouldn’t have pushed.

Walking past the room, I tuck my cell phone into my pocket and go to wait for Rocco on the beach.

He appears a few minutes later, wearing shorts and nothing else, showing off how fit he is for a man almost sixty years of age. “Everything okay?” he asks.

I force a smile. “Yea. Hey, you’ve already got a tan.”

He grins. “I’ve been sunbathing, and that’s pretty much it. Making the most of this break. Being a consigliere is hard work. Not like being Don, eh? That’s when a man really gets to rest.”

“Father works hard. Don’t let people hear you saying shit like that.”

Rocco narrows his eyes. “You’re… right. I got carried away.”

“My bad, Rocco. My head’s fucked this morning. Let’s run, help clear it.”

“In this heat, it’ll do more than clear it. You’ll be lucky if you have any thoughts left.”

“Right now, I’d consider that bad luck.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Want to talk about it?”

“I want to run.”

We do a five-mile circuit of the island, running the outskirts, past the entertainment and spa facilities, past several piers with hotel huts on them, past people playing volleyball and beachgoers, past a bunch of Family men eating and drinking on the beach, until we finally stop, sweating and breathing hard.

Rocco grins at me. “Ready to talk?”

Ever since I was a kid, Rocco’s been the easiest to talk with. Uncle Eddy has always been distant, old school, and while I love my father, he’s cut from the same cloth. My godfather has always been more of a heart-on-his-sleeve type, though no mafiosi are what civilians would call emotional.

“It’s Siena,” I tell him. “Last night, we… well, you know.”

“Good for you.”

“But I think she regrets it,” I say. “And I’m growing wary. I know I should back off.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about what life would be like after this trip, when we’re back Stateside, free to date and possibly build something.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

I give him a look.

Rocco grits his straight white teeth. “The life,” he says.

“The life,” I confirm. “She doesn’t know who and what we are. If I wanted to be with her, really be with her, I’d have to tell her. I’d have to let her in.”

“Well… could you do that?”

“It would mean trusting her with everything. My freedom.”

“Say what you really mean.”

“What?”

“We both know if a civilian goes to the cops with stories of the Bianchi Family, we could persuade the cops to look the other way. What’s your real concern?”

I grind my teeth. He’s too damn good at reading me.

“What if I tell her who I am, and she can’t look at me the same way? She might want nothing to do with me. She might run as far and fast as she can. Could I blame her?”

“You won’t know unless you try. Do you want a life with her?”

I wipe the sweat from my brow. “Slow down, Rocco.”

“That seems to be what you’re saying.”

“I’m not saying I’m going to propose to her and declare my undying love. This isn’t Hollywood. But perhaps we could have a chance at something real. That can never be the case if she doesn’t know–and, hell, accept –who I am. Let’s not forget the fact that’d be a selfish thing to do.”

“Selfish?” He nods. “Ah, I get it. She might become a target.”

“The girlfriend of Dario Bianchi.” I sigh. “Anyway, none of this means a damn thing if she decides that last night was a one-off.”

“I wish I had all the answers, Dario.”

“Just airing it out is enough.”

“I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”

“I hope so.”