Page 34 of Niccolo (Mafia Kings #7)

T he wedding was boring, as all weddings are.

I ignored the pomp and instead inspected the players – especially the women, who hadn’t been covered in Fausto’s files.

The bride, Bianca, was quite pretty. She had a glow about her – and her custom-made gown was gorgeous. I was no fashion expert, but even I could see beauty when it was right in front of me. Timeless elements of style blended with a daring sensuality. Whoever the designer was, they were amazing.

The maid of honor was Alessandra, Dario’s new wife.

She looked quite innocent and almost as happy as the bride.

I felt a twinge of guilt. After all, I was being paid to take away both women’s joy.

If I got my money, it meant that both of their husbands were dead.

I shoved down my emotions and thought, Shouldn’t have married murderers, then.

But I knew that was a cop-out. I was only trying to placate my conscience.

Are you so different? I asked myself.

The answer was Yes. I’m not about to marry a murderer.

But another, darker voice whispered, No, you’re just taking money to become an ACCOMPLICE to murder.

I pushed that voice away and didn’t let it speak again.

After the ceremony was over, everything segued directly into the reception.

The food was magnificent. Whoever the chefs or caterers were, they were culinary geniuses.

Fausto, Aurelio, and I sat at a table with an old woman. She was an Oldani – Alessandra’s long-lost family.

The old woman and Fausto had known each other for decades. They gossiped about the current situation with the brothers and the rest of the Cosa Nostra.

Aurelio was surly throughout, the epitome of a terrible wedding date.

Throughout dinner, none of the other brothers approached Fausto.

The wedding party consisted of Adriano, Dario as best man, and Massimo as a groomsman, so they were busy – but Valentino and Niccolo could have said hello.

Their absence was noticeable, as though they were making it a point not to come over.

Apparently, Roberto was the most polite of the brothers and was willing to overlook past differences. Not so the others.

After dinner, I strolled around the grounds and watched the major players.

Lars was part of the security team. He was always in the background, talking to the foot soldiers, making sure everything went according to plan. A military man to the core.

The brothers hung out together, laughing boisterously and bantering.

It was interesting to see them live and in the flesh. They obviously had camaraderie and a genuine affection for each other – but nothing stood out that I didn’t know already. I couldn’t put my finger on any unusual qualities that explained their victories over the Turk and Mezzasalma.

In fact, they matched exactly what Fausto had told me.

Dario was mysterious and commanding, with a certain je ne sais quoi about him.

Adriano scowled more than all the others put together.

Massimo seemed good-natured and relaxed.

Roberto was mild-mannered.

Valentino joked around and looked at every woman’s ass that passed by.

And Niccolo –

Wait –

Where was Niccolo?

“Ciao, bella,” I heard a charming voice purr behind me.