Page 4 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

MATTEO

Niccoló knows I’m leaving Sicily today and joins me for breakfast at my house overlooking the sea. It’s a bittersweet moment as Federico serves us breakfast.

We eat together in the kitchen, overlooking the backyard filled with olive trees. Sitting here reminds me of our childhood. Without a mom to make us wash our hands before eating, we didn’t think much about formal meals, except for dinner. Most of the time, we’d run around with a panini for lunch.

“I hope you’ll tear yourself away from Chiara long enough to visit me in New York. I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

“I know, me too. We’ll see how things go,” Niccoló says as he sips orange juice.

“Dad’s toxicology report showed lethal levels of thallium in his liver. Exactly when he was poisoned is unclear. I assume it started when he returned to Sicily for the Christmas holiday. But who knows?”

“A bullet to the head would have been more exact,” he murmurs sarcastically. “I’m glad you didn’t act on your impulses. I’m sure you would have offed him had he hurt any of us.”

“True. The timeline on Dad is sketchy. However, I don’t want to alert the entire family to this. It will make us look weak, and during the transition of power, I can’t afford for us to lose the respect our name carries.”

“Who do you suspect?”

“I’m keeping an eye on our uncles. They all have a motive, but they need men in their pockets to take over.

I’m not sure if they’ll try to take me out here or in New York.

But I know it’s coming. They might sabotage me to show I’m an ineffective leader.

Then, I’d lose what I need—the men’s loyalty. ”

“Shit. This sucks. I suppose we can’t expect Dad’s brothers to be civilized. But any self-respecting man who murders by poison is a coward. All three of them are too egotistical not to lay a claim to doing that, aren’t they?”

“Not if there is a bigger play to be made. If the price is right, they might keep their mouths shut.” I finish my eggs and toast, washing them down with coffee.

“Any idea what that might be?”

“Not yet. I’ll have to be careful until I learn more.

I have my men working on it. In the meantime, be cautious and discreet when sharing this information with others.

Bianca is back at school, so that should take her off the game board.

As for Pietro—I doubt he’ll be an issue to anyone as long as he can spend all day in his vineyard. ”

“True. Jesus, I can’t believe it’s come to this, looking over our shoulders for a possible traitor in our own family.”

“I could be wrong,” I admit, pushing my plate to the center of the table.

“It makes sense. The men who work for us aren’t overly ambitious. But who knows? Times are changing, and it could be the start of a takeover by any of them,” Niccoló suggests.

“We shouldn’t rule anyone out. Our best option is to keep our loyal men happy and know that our guards will give their lives for us.”

“How long will it take for someone to get to them?”

I shrug. “I have no clue. However, if I’m taken out, make sure you find the bastards and make them suffer.”

“I will. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he replies.

I stand. Niccoló joins me. I hug him. “Good luck, brother,” I say in Italian.

He returns my hug. “Good luck to you. I’ll be in touch.”

I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gravel driveway and watch Niccoló climb into his white Ferrari.

I’m humored by his refusal to drive the stereotypical red Ferrari most Italian men prefer.

His security detail is split between two armored SUVs, one in front and one behind him, as they pull onto the curvy road.

What surprises await me in New York? After packing, I call the service that coordinates the crew for my private jet. As a safety precaution, I give a vague departure time for later today. I’ll show up unexpectedly.

I said my goodbyes to my siblings last night. Before closing the carry-on luggage, I shower and dress casually with loafers, jeans, and a dress shirt. September is warm—a reality of our changing environment.

When I was a kid, the tourist season in Italy used to end at the end of summer. Today, the tourist season lasts most of the year, with trains and ferries running more often during the summer months.

While my guard drives me to the airport, maneuvering the SUV expertly around the winding and hilly countryside, I text Gio.

I’ll be on the plane soon.

Good. The house is ready for you. Mr. Wu has been oddly quiet.

Fuck!

I should have let Antonio kill that motherfucker. I want his laundromat. We can clean money through it. But I want to turn it into a hotel and expand our empire. The building has height restrictions, but it’s a potential goldmine without them.

The pilot greets me, and within minutes, I’m airborne.

I haven’t filled Gio in on what’s transpired.

I’m particular about the information I share over phones, even encrypted ones.

I prefer to be cautious, even if it’s not as convenient.

I’d rather discuss important matters in person when the timing is right.

Have Antonio beef up security.

Gio: Trouble?

Always.

I get up and mix myself a Manhattan. It’s going to be a mind fuck switching from the laid-back lifestyle in Sicily to the busy streets of New York City.

* * *

Gio meets me at Teterboro airport with two SUVs to escort us into the city. It’s a city with an incredible nightlife if one knows where to find it.

“True, so where to? Home?”

“I’ve been stuck on a flight for hours. I want to get into character, and by that I mean find an enticing woman to fuck.

I’m sure you know where I can make that happen.

” Knowing Gio, who’s in his forties and never married, I’m sure he knows exactly where to find what I want.

He wouldn’t be my best friend and advisor if he didn’t.

“I know of a place. It’s small, intimate, and by invitation only, but I can get you in. Don’t worry, it’s not a fuckfest of losers and one-timers.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“We are bachelors. We need to stick together. The city is filled with tons of women wanting to get married.”

“I’m sure a large bank account is attractive as well.”

“It never hurts. This place has a few rules, like no real names and safe sex only.”

I nod. “Noted.”

“How was the funeral?”

“Boring as hell. Between us, it looks like my father may have been murdered. His postmortem lab work showed poison commonly found in soil. The only consolation is that his death was quick. I don’t want to show my hand to the person or persons responsible.

The only people who know are you and my siblings.

Be vigilant. It’s an uncertain time to take my place at the top. ”

“I understand,” he says. “I’ll tell Antonio to keep his eyes open even when he sleeps.”

“That will be me, too. How did I get stuck with the psychotic family? Given the family genetics, it’s a wonder we kids turned out as well as we have. Pietro has always been the rebel. Is it really that terrible that he hates the family business and prefers to garden?”

“Not at all. He’s probably the happiest of all of you, although I’m sure Bianca has all the men at school eating out of her hand. She’s probably having a great time.”

“Popularity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.” My years have been filled with women who want everything from a hard fuck to a ring on their finger. At times, it’s as if my soul is being sucked instead of my cock. “Besides, her school is a bit unorthodox.”

Gio nods. There is more to that story, but it’s for another day.

He gives the driver an address, and the SUV winds down city streets with very little traffic.

“The theme tonight is Angels and Demons. They have one night a week for theme parties.”

“Sounds organized.”

“It’s private. The owner is Madame M.”

“It’s not prostitutes, is it?”

“Hell no. Rumor has it Madame M loves sex and uses one of her large flats for friends to mingle, if you get my drift. An annual fee helps keep the bar stocked and covers staff costs on event nights. Trust me, you’ll have a good time.”

“Fine.” The SUV rolls to a stop in front of a brick building.

“We’ll wait,” Gio says as he walks me to an unmarked door.

I feel the bite of the chill in the damp night air. All I care about is having a wet pussy dripping at the sight of my cock.

He punches in a code, and the door unlocks. We step inside to find an empty lobby with a single elevator. The doors are open, and he indicates that I should step inside.

“Penthouse. I’ll be waiting here.”

“Thank you, Gio.”

I press the button with the letter P, and the elevator doors close. Due to the stress at home, my balls are tight. I’m not ready to sleep, and I want to get off.

The elevator lurches to a stop, and the doors open.

I step out, not knowing what to expect. It’s quiet, and I wonder if I’m at the right place.

There’s only one door, a red door. It opens, and a woman dressed in burlesque red and black lingerie, with pearls on her stockings and six-inch heels, steps out. She’s tugging on a long black coat.

“Well, if I had known you were coming, I would have stayed longer,” she purrs. She’s tall, with alabaster skin and lips painted red like candy apples. She’s wearing a platinum-blonde Marilyn Monroe wig.

“Maybe next time,” I reply without an encouraging smile.

She grabs my balls as she passes me and gets into the elevator. The scent of her gardenia perfume tickles my nose.

“Nice package,” she says as the door closes.

I hate the smell of gardenias. They are overpowering. I rub my hand over my face as if it will wipe away the perfume smell sooner rather than later.

I open the red door and step into a dimly lit apartment. I can make out a bar in the center of the large room. Art Deco sconces, reminiscent of the Roaring Twenties, decorate the walls and provide the only lighting.

An older, attractive woman approaches and escorts me to the bar. She orders two Manhattans.

“Gio told me you’d be here. Nice to meet you,” she extends a gloved hand. I shake it and notice the white gloves extend to her elbows. “I’m Madame M. Safe sex, condoms in every room. Gio said your membership forms and fees will be arriving.”

“Yes, thank you.” I lift my glass, and we tap them together before we drink.

She’s smoking a thin cigarette at the end of a long cigarette holder.

She looks like she stepped out of a silent film, but something tells me she dresses like this daily.

She’s still beautiful, especially for a woman in her sixties, if I had to guess.

Her hair is silver, not grey, and styled in a short straight bob.

Her floor-length gown is made of white sequins and sparkles like she is dressed to take the stage and sing a solo.

She’s classy and not at all dressed for sex.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Mr. Grey. Thank you for the imposition. I hate long flights.”

“Darling,” she purrs, “don’t we all?”

I chuckle. I take another sip of my cocktail. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and I notice that the walls are painted a deep teal, which highlights the cream-colored, leather-backed furniture.

“This is an incredible penthouse.”

“Thank you. It’s a hobby. We all need one. Sex is my vice.”

My eyes survey the crowd, which comprises mainly couples and a few single men and women. On my second sweep of the room, I see her.

The young, voluptuous woman is wearing a tight red and black bustier, with fishnet stockings up to her solid thighs and held in place by red garter belts.

She’s nursing a dirty martini, judging from the stick filled with olives in her hand.

She suggestively eats one at a time, and takes her time to savor them.

She appears to be oblivious to how sexual this looks, and my cock is hard.

“Who’s the girl?”

“That’s Angelica to you. She’s a sweet girl. I think the two of you would have a wild time. Now that my job here is done, I’ll leave you to it,” she says before floating away like a butterfly.

I ask for another Manhattan and a dirty martini. I grab both and approach Angelica.

She’s a vision with her long brown hair with subtle highlights. Her cheeks are rounded, and her pouty, royal red lips curl into a smile as I hand her the drink.

“Hm. Mama always told me to be leery of strangers bearing gifts.”

“Oh, I hope I won’t be a stranger for long.”

“You must be new here,” she states as she sets her empty glass on a nearby table. She takes a sip of the martini I hand her.

“Very new.”

“I’m Angelica,” she offers her hand.

“I’m Mr. Grey.” I raise her soft hand to my lips and kiss it.

“Mr. 50 Shades, is it?”

“For the night, it appears so.”

“Kinda unoriginal, don’t you think?”

“Once you’ve been with me, I doubt you’d say I’m unoriginal.”

She glances at my crotch and gives me a look—the one between a smile and an invitation to fuck her. I’m ready to come in my pants.

Madam M was right. The sexual tension between us is electrifying. I move closer when I glimpse a tall man with massive shoulders heading our way. He recognizes the universal move that declares she is mine and politely veers off.

“Do you come here often?”

“No, but tonight I wanted to be a little demon,” she says, giving me a token smile.

“Funny, your name implies angel.”

“Trust me, Mr. Grey, I’m no angel. Follow me.” She sashays like a model in her red-bottom stilettos and leads me to what I assume is a room. She pushes aside the beading hanging in the doorway.

I follow her into a room with dozens of candles burning. The wrought-iron bed takes up the entire room, and the scene reminds me of a shrine in a vampire movie.

She takes a few long sips of the martini before she sets the glass on the table. I toss back the rest of my drink and put my empty glass beside the bowl of condoms.

I slip my hand behind her neck and pull her into my chest. I cup her large tit, placing my hand between the fabric and her hard nipple.

My god, she’s heavenly.

Her arms wrap around my neck. Her hand slips inside my shirt, and her other hand begins to unbutton it. I shrug out of it to help her undress me. If it were up to me, I’d shuck everything, but to a woman dying of thirst, the first few drops of water are always the sweetest.

She runs her soft hand slowly over my chest as if memorizing the contour. I’m starting to relax when she surprises me by grabbing my nipple and pinching it until it’s hard.

My excitement is at an all-time high. She likes a bit of pain. So do I.

* * *