Page 60 of Dirty Mafia Sinner

I pull closer to my desk until my knees are touching the cage.

So glad we’ve broken past the honeymoon stage.

RILEY

Conversations collideas men filter into the office, their footsteps echoing off the floor. The scrape of chairs dragged across the room grows closer, signaling their approach. I shift within the confines of my hiding place, a decorative desk accent shielding me from their view.

It’s clear they know exactly who Alessandro is and where they stand in his world. I’m the one who’s been slow to catch on.

“Why in God’s name does it smell like sour milk in here?” a familiar voice asks. Tommaso. The deep timbre of his tone’s recognizable, as is his daring.

The men fall quiet, thinking the same thing.

“How about you interrogate housekeeping? Find out why they can suck a cock clean yet can’t clean a room worth shit?”

My gasp is muffled by laughter. Still, Alessandro’s comment stings. I had it all wrong, didn’t I? The fantasy of who I wanted him to be versus the reality of who he actually is.

Cunning.

Ruthless.

Sadistic.

And proud. So proud, there should be a parade in his honor.

“A warning before we begin. Be careful with what you say because I’ve a feeling ears are listening in.”

I freeze. He meansme. Because he doesn’t trust me. Another wave of hurt washes over me.

“Let’s begin. I need the craftiest sons of bitches in Rome. You three…” He must be pointing at them … “Hit every kink club, the seedier the better. Make sure he doesn’t see you and connect you back to me, or he’ll evade capture.”

I listen intently, curious who he’s searching for. Someone important, as his firm tone suggests.

“Next, get ears out there. I want to know why Dante Lucchese is in Sicily.”

“Yes, boss.”

His power is difficult to ignore. He demands, and men obey. Yet it isn’t so surprising. When I first saw him, he was ordering men about in the club, wasn’t he? They kept approaching him and then hurried off, the devil riding their heels. In movies and books, you imagine mafia bosses wearing suits and delivering orders from behind desks, like he is now. Yet I missed it, believing he was a rich investor or stockbroker.

I was so caught up in him I couldn’t trulyseehim.

Lord, in retrospect, he could never be a simple Al.

But Alessandro? The name fits him perfectly.

A fist slams onto the desk. I jump, as do his men. “Listen closely,” he demands in a low voice that vibrates with rage. “Whoever locates Conti will be set for life. Capisci?”

“Yeah, boss.” Their excitement reminds me there’s more than one predator in the room.

I bite my lip and listen, curious why Alessandro is hunting these men. Someone who is hiding in Rome. A man named Dante Lucchese. And a third man they call Conti.

Alessandro’s seat rolls back behind me. I stiffen, until I realize he’s simply shifting positions. “Any suggestions about how to hunt him down?” he asks the group.

“We start by interrogating his relatives,” Tommaso says.

“While being a little more persuasive than my father’s men.” Alessandro chuckles. “My father has given you permission to get your hands dirty. Book a flight to Atlanta. After you’re satisfied, head to New York, check in with our men, and reinterview our guest. Confirm everything that’s been said but push harder for more.”

“You’ve been busy this morning,” Tommaso comments.