Page 24 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

MATTEO

I phone my brother before breakfast.

“Niccoló, how are you?” We rattle off words in Italian.

“Fine, fine. Everything is good here. How are you, brother?”

“Good. I’m getting married.”

“I don’t believe it. I thought I’d be the first to get married.”

“Sorry, I beat you to it.”

“Who is she? Gorgeous and witty, I hope.”

“She is. Her name is Alena Pasnov. She’s the daughter of the Russian syndicate’s advisor.”

“Not the Don’s daughter?”

“His daughter is not Russian-born, and his son-in-law will take over for him shortly. Rumor has it he’s married to his illegitimate love child, though.”

“She’s taken then, can’t mess with that one,” he chuckles.

“No, I wouldn’t want to. We have leverage over the advisor, and as it turns out, Alena’s best friend is the Don’s illegitimate daughter,” I add. “My marriage is a business deal.”

I need an heir. I’ll never give her anything other than a good fuck and shoot my seed inside her.

“How did the building deal go? The uncles are all waiting for you to fuck up,” he informs me.

“I know. It’s a done deal. You can pass the information on. Giuseppe and Luca have been bitching and complaining. Luca wanted me to use an ice pick on the old man.”

“Figures, he’s into dramatics.” Niccoló knows him well. “But who knows what he’s capable of?”

We’re both silent for a minute.

“I have the building. Wu tried to sell it to the Russians, and he won’t be an issue in the future.”

“No loose ends, eh? Then the bastard got what he deserved.”

“Mm, he did,” I reply dolefully. “It had to be done to send a message. No one can say I’m weak.”

“That’s for sure.”

“So, any news from you?” I wonder when he’s going to propose to Chiara.

“No. Chiara has been busy with work. I think we’re in a bit of a slump. She’s tired and a bit depressed since Dad died.”

“That’s odd. No one liked the old fucker. If it weren’t for the uncles, I would have danced on his gravesite.”

“Yeah, it would have been a party. Well, he can have it in hell, as I’m sure that’s where he is. He was mean. I can’t imagine what you went through for us.”

“Don’t give it a thought,” I say. “I want you to have a happy life.”

He knows there are scars from him whipping my back. The wounds have faded with time but will never be erased from my memory. The old man loved to take his anger out on me. I gladly took the beatings to save my younger siblings. It was traumatic enough that Mom died suddenly.

Gio enters the breakfast room.

“I’ll send more details when I have them. Is everything going okay there?”

“Yes, fine,” Niccoló sighs.

“I have to go. Talk soon,” I reply as we hang up.

“What’s the word, Gio?”

“The matter with our Irishman has been handled.”

“Great. As we discussed?”

“Yes, his last name is O’Donnell, but a million of them exist. He is a low-level person. I doubt he’ll be missed.”

“There is a Cillian O’Donnell who heads the Irish in the United Kingdom. Any relation?”

“He moves drugs for the Irish in Ireland, in Dublin and small-town areas. He has quite a record with law enforcement. He comes up illegitimate. The last name is coincidental.”

“What are the odds of that happening? Maybe I should play the lottery.”

Gio chuckles. “Let me know if you win.” He sits and pours himself a cup of coffee from the decanter.

“Great. Let’s eat,” I say as I observe Federico entering with a tray of breakfast foods and placing the plates on the table.

“Thank you, Federico,” I say before I dig into my Eggs Benedict. Two perfectly poached eggs are resting on spinach and Italian toast. He delivers us both fresh espressos, one of which is a double for me.

I waste no time tossing it back.

“I’ll peruse through Dad’s papers that were left in his house. I doubt I’ll find anything. What was on the SIM card?”

“Not much. The advisor called his kids, and there was a number used numerous times, but it’s going to a burner phone that must be burned. I was hoping we’d get a lead. There’s no way to track who it could have been.”

“Thank you for trying. Quick thinking on your part.”

“That’s why you have me,” he says as he cuts his omelet into bite-sized pieces.

“Are the papers for the building in order?”

“Yes, all taken care of. The gala event for Councilman Addler is next month. You need tickets. I haven’t been able to get you on the list. Money isn’t his only agenda,” he murmurs in frustration. “He can’t be bought easily.”

I worked out in my home gym before Gio arrived. I finish wolfing down my food.

I push my chair back and stand. “Interesting. Maybe Alena will have connections. I’ll work on it as well.”

Gio stands to follow me.

“Eat. I have to go through my father’s dusty papers. I’ll be in my study. And get someone on Addler. There has to be dirt somewhere. I need leverage. I have to get his vote.”

“Very well,” he replies as he sits again and continues eating his sausage patty.

I walk to my study and pull papers out of a drawer. There are boxes in the corner of the room. Dad was a pack rat, and I’m afraid I’ll burn my time and not find a damn thing.

“What were you up to, old man?” I mutter.

I pick up papers, straighten them, and glance over them one by one before moving them to another stack. I’ve been here for hours, and my calves hurt from sitting. I briefly considered using the indoor pool and sauna this morning. It’s the only way to enjoy winter, I surmise.

I stand, contemplating my next move, and pick up the stack of papers to put back in a box when something falls to the antique rug under my feet.

I clutch the papers to my chest before bending to retrieve the one on the floor. It’s folded. I open it with curiosity. I read the Italian words—I’ll meet you tomorrow. Well, that’s a clue. It’s written in Italian and doesn’t appear to be my father’s penmanship.

The handwriting is cursive and slanted perfectly. It’s too pretty to be the scribble of a man’s hand, but my handwriting is atrocious. I can’t make generalizations based on my limited handwriting interpretations.

Interesting. What was he meeting someone for? Why is it a paper note? Is it a secret? Was it for Dad or someone else?

I push a button underneath the middle of my cherry wood desk, and a fake drawer opens in the front. It looks like a decoration, but it’s the perfect hiding place. I slip the note inside and close it. I dump the papers back into the bottom drawer.

“Gio,” I call as I retrace my steps to the dining room.

“Yes?” He stands, stacking the breakfast plates with Federico.

“Let’s go visit some businesses. I want to make sure everyone sees me and fears me.”

“I’ll call for the car,” he replies, reaching for his suit jacket.

Minutes later, we’re confined by privacy in the G-wagon. I share what I’ve discovered with Gio.

“That’s odd. Antonio said the old man’s security feed only shows them coming and going from the house. He had no visitors.”

“Damn. Well, he had to go somewhere and meet someone. We don’t store things in clouds,” Gio states the obvious.

“I know. But all the same, it’s annoying. Let’s see if he had any meetings at our business locations. There is no date on the note, but the handwriting is elegant. I’m not sure we’re looking for a man.”

“Hard to tell. My mother writes like shit,” he replies as he observes me.

“I do, too. I’m trying not to be biased. It could be a man or a woman.”

“I’ll instruct Antonio to give us a list of everyone he has a meeting with or a potential for a meeting to occur at all our holdings,” Gio says, taking out his phone and texting.

I use my phone to text my fiancée at work.

The word ‘work’ is like a cotton ball lodged in my mouth.

I never actualized marriage. However, making an alliance through Alena will help me.

All I want is for her to be a good mother to our children.

I don’t want her to have the stress of working. I’m the one who takes care of her.

I receive a text back, and my grumpy mouth cracks into a half-smile.

She’s amusing with her sassy retorts. We visit our new holding company, which is my latest venture.

It’s a technology endeavor. Information is the key to power.

We’re developing a software app to be installed as a messenger on websites and phones under the ruse of being encrypted.

The caveat is that a back door will allow us to access the phone that uses it, so we can obtain information on other businesses and sell it under a shell company, so our opponents will never know it’s been hacked.

I plan to sell it to all our known rivals in the city as a test. It’s ingenious. I’ll obtain information as it leaves cell phones. I have a huge warehouse of water-cooled computers, and I’ll have the drop on all my enemies.

By the time we return to the city, it’s time to pick Alena up from work. Vito walks her out the door and opens the door to the SUV.

I step out, and I melt as soon as our eyes meet. My lips meet hers, and even though she resists, she can’t hold out long enough. Her lips surrender to mine and return my kiss.

“Hello, Mr. Grey,” she murmurs when I release her lips.

“Hello, Angel. How was your day?”

“Fine. And you?” She steps into the vehicle, and I want to slap her sexy well-rounded ass staring me in the face. However, at that exact moment, Vito hands me her winter coat. I take it and toss it in the back seat as I sit beside my fiancée. As soon as Gio closes the door, the driver drives off.

“Where is your ring?” I am peeved Alena isn’t wearing my ring.

“Oh,” her lips curve into a perfectly round O. “I didn’t want a thousand questions at work.” She slips her hand into her purse, pulls out a wallet that she unzips, and retrieves the ring.

I slip the ring onto her slender finger, pulling her hand to my mouth and planting a soft kiss before returning it to her lap.

The sound of her inhaling air causes my eyes to zoom to her face.

She is surprised by my gesture.

“You haven’t answered me,” I reiterate.

“Yes, I understand,” she replies softly.