Page 6 of Mafia King: Matteo (Borrelli Mafia #1)

MATTEO

Gio and I wait outside the club for my Angel to come out. When the woman of my new obsession exits, she climbs into an SUV similar to mine. It pulls away from the curb, and before we follow, I notice it’s followed by an identical vehicle—a security detail.

Growing up in Sicily, I can spot a paid guard a mile away. That’s because death is inevitable and a way of life. Most mafia men don’t worry about it. This is not the case with New York’s criminal underworld.

Here, it’s as if everyone wants to live as long as possible. Either the men have more to live for, or it’s a cultural difference. For now, I’m undecided.

We followed her home and discovered the building where she lived. I put Gio in charge of finding out more.

With our mission complete, we head to my place for a nightcap in the study, which also serves as an office.

We light our cognac-laden cigars. Gio pours two bourbons and hands me one before sitting in high-back chairs beside a gas-lit fireplace.

My den has a Gaudí meets Gotham look, featuring dark colors and Art Deco lighting.

Maybe that’s why I felt so comfortable in the dimly lit sex club.

Gio leans back and puts his feet up on the ottoman. “Do I need to worry about this vixen?”

“How do you know she’s hot?”

“You’re never with a woman who’s not.”

“True, I deserve that.”

Gio nods solemnly. “We need Councilman Addler to support our request for a height variance.”

“Yes, I’m sure there is a function where I can talk to him. He’s been known to hold out on these things before. My first project has to be successful. By the way, how is my cousin, Antonio? I heard he got married.”

“Yes, to a nice Irish girl, Caitlin. She was his nanny briefly,” he says.

I chuckle at this—happy he’s found happiness. He’s my cousin, and we’ve been best friends since we were kids.

“His wife, Caitlin, has a serious ex-boyfriend problem like he beat the shit out of her in Ireland. As soon as she recovered, she came here to escape him.”

“He followed her here,” I murmur thoughtfully. I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, focusing on the decorative medallion around the light. It looks so fake compared to the genuine art and sculptures in Italy.

“Yes, it took time, but he’s here. Last week she was at the zoo with Rocco, and the bodyguards had to beat the shit out of him to make him go away.

He’s an abnormally strong man, and it took three of them to subdue him.

Remember last year when we had to take down that heroin dealer on the street who was just released from prison?

He was off his psych meds and had superhuman strength?

Antonio had to put a bullet in his head.

It was like putting down a rabid animal.

This guy, Finn, is like that, small but strong.

He’s psychotic. Antonio is going to request permission to protect his family. ”

“What do we know about Finn?”

“He’s a low-level dealer in Ireland. I’m not sure about his connections yet. Nothing has been flagged other than his criminal record and nearly killing Caitlin.”

“We need to find out and evaluate the situation. He could be someone the Irish won’t miss. See if he’s connected, and if he is, who we’d piss off if we eliminate him.”

If he came near Angelica, I’d kill him myself. No man should ever hit a woman.

Gio takes a puff of his cigar, blows it out slowly, and nods.

“Damn, it’s been a long day. I’ll have Antonio conduct a thorough review of Wu. We’ll pick him up. He can’t hide forever. Not with the way Antonio can hack into the street cameras and read car plates off the bridges.”

“I’ll break every bone in Wu’s body if he doesn’t sell to me. I needed this done last week.”

“I’m sorry. Antonio thought he’d come through. Do you think someone else got to him?”

“It’s very plausible. However, we won’t know until we review the city records to confirm that he still owns the building. If he double-crosses me, I’ll kill him,” I say, sending a smoke ring toward the ceiling.

“So, what do you think of Madame M?”

“I like her. She’s an interesting character.”

“Are you going back?”

“Not if you can find out who Angelica is. She intrigues me. I feel there is more to her than meets the eye.” Her clothes weren’t cheap. “I wonder what she does for a living,” I muse.

“I don’t like this. You’re thinking too much about her. If you get involved with anyone, you are putting them in danger. Especially now,” Gio reminds me.

“Perhaps. I wonder what Angelica’s real name is.

” I have to admit I’m enjoying the mystery.

It beats the family curse from my father’s sins.

To push a woman down the stairs is inexcusable.

I wouldn’t care if someone took my father out over some old beef.

He was always cantankerous, so that it wouldn’t be out of the question.

That being said, there doesn’t seem to be a war on the horizon.

It’s too quiet. I don’t trust it. My father’s murder was designed to avoid detection.

I’m ahead of the killer because he doesn’t know I’m operating in the shadows.

Poison may be the weapon of choice for women, but my sister is unlikely to be the next Don as she has no desire to get her hands dirty.

Besides, Bianca would have to take out everyone, and she is too timid to kill a spider.

The psychotic gene in the family must have skipped her.

I wonder if I will turn into a man like my father.

I don’t think he knew what love felt like.

I may have only had crushes in my past, but I love a smooth bourbon, a flavorful cigar, and a memorable fuck.

With my rock glass empty, I stub out the cigar on the cut glass ashtray and place my hands on my knees.

“This was nice. Thank you, Gio. I think I’m ready for bed.”

“It’s about time,” he chuckles.

“Don’t forget about the girl.”

“It’s always a girl who gets you in trouble. You need a woman.”

“She is. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be with a man.

Goodnight, Gio,” I murmur over my shoulder as I walk under the archway.

I enter the spacious living area, and it’s been so long since I’ve been here, I didn’t realize how massive it is for one person and some staff members. It’s worth millions.

Will Angelica like it? Why am I asking myself this question?

He’s right. I shouldn’t drag anyone into the family until I’ve neutralized my father’s killer. I want what I want when I want it. I will have Angelica. She may fight me, but in the end, she will submit.

After a hot shower, I slip into bed as the furnace kicks on.

I don’t mind cold weather when I’m skiing in the Alps.

That’s my idea of having fun in the snow.

I am not thrilled about working in the bitter cold, but that’s inevitable when one lives here.

Thankfully, I won’t be shoveling snow or scraping ice off a frozen windshield.

Having a soft, warm woman in my bed is another reason to pursue Angelica. She seems harmless. I’ve never tried a relationship before, but she needs one. Maybe I do, too. Mindless unattached fucking is all I’ve ever wanted until now.

I prefer to be alone. When a woman starts leaving her undies on the bedroom doorknob, it’s time to say goodbye.

I’m not a big fan of change. My life is my job, and no woman would be happy with my long work weeks.

She’d grow bored waiting for me to come home every night.

I need a woman who can entertain herself and not complain about it.

Angelica strikes me as someone like-minded.

I saw something familiar in her eyes—a frozen darkness that only another lonely soul would recognize.

I’ll keep this a secret. There is no need for her to know who I am.

It’s safer this way. I might have a soft spot for her, but I can’t risk losing my focus while my empire and family are under attack.

I drift off to sleep with the memory of her arched back and screams of ecstasy as she squirted on my cock. It still turns me on, and my cock hardens at the thought. I can’t wait to see her again.

* * *

I awake in the morning to noises from the kitchen and the strong smell of coffee. I pull on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt and walk barefoot downstairs.

Walking into the kitchen with its white walls and blue accents, I see a familiar, tall, thin Italian.

“Federico!” I exclaim. He’s an incredible chef, and more importantly, I trust him.

He also helps as a butler and takes care of the house.

He’s indispensable to a man who works too much to maintain a house this size.

“Mr. Borrelli, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I slept like a baby on your jet.” He gives me a warm smile as he turns on the espresso machine. “Thank you for bringing me with you.”

“You know me and my routine. Besides, I don’t have time to eat at the restaurant daily. I work late most nights. I love pasta, but occasionally, I crave a thick ribeye steak cooked medium-rare, of course. I don’t have to tell you that overcooking meat ruins it.”

“That it does. Please have a seat. I made hard-boiled eggs, buttered toast, and Italian bacon,” he says, setting my breakfast on a table overlooking the massive lawn covered with snow.

In the middle of the spacious kitchen, pots and pans with copper bottoms hang from a wooden rack. He uses these to prepare five-star meals.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Otherwise, I’d starve.” I cracked the egg and slid the shell off easily. I cut the eggs in half and drizzle olive oil over them before I add a dash of salt and pepper. I take a bite, close my eyes, and savor the flavor.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies, setting a cup of hot espresso beside my plate.

These are expensive comforts that compensate for my limited social life. I try to avoid the requisite social events where some elected official is always holding out a hand for a campaign contribution. It’s an old boys’ club if I ever saw one.

Here, I thought Italy had the lock on keeping women out of business and politics. We have rules over a hundred years old designed to keep wives at home. These same rules are often used in divorces to screw wives out of money.

I’ve learned that despite increased legislation for women’s rights, women in Italy had more power before gaining the vote.

It makes no sense. Men still earn more than women for the same work, and women who know how to play the game are rewarded with pay increases that aren’t legal in government jobs meant to keep everyone equal.

Graft is everywhere. After years of experience in my father’s operation, I’ve concluded that state government and big businesses are more corrupt than the mafia.

At least I come at my enemies head-on. I’m too honest and direct for my own good.

I need to finesse more and talk less. Politics is politicking, whether it’s in government or big business.

Everyone in these circles understands the main rule for survival is to take what you want or die slowly.

The competition today is unlike anything we’ve seen before.

Right now, I have no idea who will attempt to usurp my position. If I’m to survive, I have to be more devious than my enemy. If my enemy is one or more of my uncles, they will go behind my back to undermine me and create dissension in the ranks.

Takeovers are never done single-handedly. No, power has to be taken, and their subordinates will support them. The question is, who wants me dead?

* * *