Page 44 of Shattered King

Luca

S ix Months Later

There are shouts, clangs of tools, and laughter as I walk through the garage. The smell of oil and sweat hangs over the place. Cars sit around, some half-built, some expensive models stripped for parts, others being repaired for future sale. I smile to myself as I head toward the back office.

I miss this mess sometimes. Ever since I gave control of the depot over to Enzo, I haven’t been in a garage like this very often.

But I liked the noise and the action and the camaraderie of all the guys who spent their days around the vehicles.

Maybe I’ll get my own garage set up soon.

Hell, maybe Fiorella will want to run one instead of getting her hands filthy all the time.

In the back, I find Raf and Filippo already hunched over a table.

Papers, charts, books, and files cover most of the available space.

A big whiteboard with schedules and routes covers one wall.

It’s a no-bullshit space, which I’ve come to appreciate.

I never thought Raf would end up a good manager, but here we are.

“Glad you made it,” my brother-in-law says, shaking my hand. “Only a little late.”

“Crosstown traffic. How’s life, Filippo?”

“Better and better.” He shakes my hand as well and gestures at a spreadsheet they were both going through. “Want to take a look at this?”

I smile to myself. Straight to business. “Show me what we’re dealing with.”

Filippo walks me through the garage’s finances, followed by the numbers for half a dozen more garages just like this one. They’re scattered throughout Philly, and based on what I’m seeing, they’re doing a good business.

“Better than it used to be,” Raf says, fishing a cigar from a pocket.

He lights it up, puffing away. Filippo gives him a hard look, but neither man says anything about it.

They’ve argued enough about this fucking topic.

The accountant thinks it’s stupid to have fire near so much paper.

The mafia Don thinks the accountant is a pain in his fucking ass and can go fuck himself. And on and on and on.

“Better is good. Don Marino will be pleased.” I slide a folder over and keep it in front of me. “I’ll show him these numbers later.”

“There’s nothing I love more than pleasing Don Marino,” Raf says, puffing away with a smirk. “Ask him if he likes his balls cupped while he gets his dick sucked for me, would you?”

“I’m sure that’d go over great.”

“Gentlemen.” Filippo’s frown could freeze the tail off a Siberian Husky.

“If we could focus?” He turns another stack of papers in my direction.

“Income is up across the board. Expenses are down thanks to our most recent reforms.” He smiles thinly, and I resist the urge to say, your most recent reforms, you ruthless fuck , but that’d be counterproductive.

“Our family’s debt has not been erased, but if trends continue as I’ve estimated, we’ll be purely profitable again within two years. ”

“Two years,” Raf echoes, shaking his head. “Apparently, that’s fast in the business world.”

“Don Marino would be happy with five. Two is fantastic.” I give Raf a hard look. He’s got a good head for this stuff, but he likes messing with Filippo far too much.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, however. There are still problems that can arise. But we’ve done well.” Filippo turns to Raf. “ You’ve done well, Don Serrano.”

Raf sits back in stunned silence. I’m just as surprised as him.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Filippo pay anyone a compliment, much less Raf.

They’re constantly butting heads, and Filippo makes it clear that he thinks Raf is nothing more than a jumped-up thug with no education and a temper to match.

Which makes this about as rare as blood from a statue.

“I appreciate you saying that, Filippo.” Raf clears his throat, looks at the cigar in his hand, and stubs it out. “It’s been a lot of work, but the business is coming together. I’m proud of what we’ve done together.”

My god. Pigs are flying. This is fucking madness.

“Very good.” Just like that, the nice moment is over. “I’ve left you with about a dozen documents to sign. You requested my vote on an expansion into Bucks County, and I’ve given you my approval. Don’t mess it up, Don Serrano.”

“I’d never dream of it,” Raf says through his teeth.

Filippo stands and adjusts his briefcase. “Gentlemen. Luca, would you walk me to the hallway?”

“Yeah, you’d better go, otherwise he might get lost.” Raf grins at me before looking down at the papers Filippo gave him, the smile fading away.

I follow the accountant out. Filippo speaks softly once we’re out of the office and away from Raf’s earshot. “Be mindful of him. I’d appreciate it if you personally chose someone to run our next location.”

“I have some ideas in mind, but that might piss off the good Don.”

“He’ll survive. Have your wife convince him.”

“We can’t go to that well forever before it dries up, you know.”

“Two years.” The look Filippo gives me is exhausted and stressed. “Two long years.” He walks away without another word, shaking his head and muttering to himself about profit and loss charts.

Poor goddamn bastard. Raf is sick of Filippo, but I suspect their partnership won’t last long. The old accountant’s going to die of a heart attack sooner rather than later.

I poke my head back in the office to say bye to Raf, but he’s already wreathed in smoke again, head buried in papers. I stroll back out into the garage, smiling to myself.

Two more years. Then the Serrano Famiglia will officially be back in good financial health. And my Don’s investment in their organization will begin to pay dividends.

Thirty years ago, mafia life was different.

It was short and brutish. Gangs thought about street corners and drive-by shootings.

Now, though, life is different. Those old-style thugs have slowly given way to the new generation, one that understands business is more profitable than street wars. Even a guy like Raf gets it.

There’s a place for violence, though. No Famiglia is foolish enough to think it can rid itself of the killers. Stefano’s got his uses. But a Famiglia filled with men like Stefano would quickly fall apart.

This is the new world.

And frankly, it’s not fucking bad.

I find myself slowing as I approach a car bay tucked in the back of the garage.

A few older mechanics are standing around pretending they’re doing work, but I can tell they’re all deeply on edge.

One of them is called Ernesto, and apparently, he’s known Fiorella for a long time.

I have no doubt he’s making sure she’s not pushing herself too hard.

Probably because of the extremely pregnant girl with her elbows in the hood of an old 1978 Mercedes 450SEL 6.9. When they spot me rolling over, they scatter like flies in the wind.

“What did I say about straining yourself?”

Fiorella flinches before pulling back. She’s in jeans and a flowy white top, and she scowls as she grabs a rag and wipes her hands. “I don’t need this from you, too.”

“And yet here you are, getting it.”

“I’ve been lectured ten times today.” She raises her voice and calls past me toward the hiding mechanics. “I’m fucking fine!”

I smile despite myself. I can’t keep up this hard facade with her around. My beautiful wife, pregnant as fuck and ready to burst, looks like an absolute angel with grease on her hands and a scowl on her lips.

Nothing I say will make her stop. And I’ve tried everything—threats, promises, bribes—everything. She doesn’t care. Fio wants to fix cars, and that means Fio’s going to fix fucking cars, whether she’s pregnant or not.

I wouldn’t be shocked if she’s looking at parts while the baby’s crowning.

“At least you look beautiful as always,” I say as I approach her.

Her scowl softens. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to compliment me. I’m annoyed.”

“Annoyed and gorgeous.” I pull her into me and kiss her lightly. “Perfect too.”

“Shut up, dickbag.” But now she’s smiling, too. She gets on her toes and kisses me. “How’s my brother?”

“He’s the same as usual. Actually, I saw a miracle earlier. Filippo actually complimented Raf.”

She rears back. “You’re messing with me.”

“I wish I was, but hand to God, it happened.”

“Well, I guess the world’s about to end.”

“That’s what I thought too, but here we are, still going.”

She leans her head against my chest. I hold her tight in my arms. “He really is doing a decent job, you know. I mean, he’s a pain in my tits, but he’s trying his best.”

“Mostly because you’re around to steer him.”

“Elisa too.”

“She’s not as persuasive as you are.”

“Fair enough. I worry about her, you know. She’s sort of adrift and alone in that house.”

I breathe in the smell of my wife’s hair. “Want her to move back in with us?”

She hesitates but shakes her head. “I do, and I know you’d let her, but I also know we need our own space. Besides, I can’t baby her forever.”

“But you want to, right?”

“God, yes. My whole life has been about protecting her.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

“Always have, dimwit.” She nibbles at my chin. “Listen, give me like ten more minutes, okay? I think I’m about to make a breakthrough here.”

“If you strain yourself?—”

She swats at me. “Don’t start. There are like a dozen men in here watching me like hawks, just waiting to step in. I’m fine .”

“All right, fine. Then get to work.” I release her and sit on a nearby stool. “Just don’t complain if I watch.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re going to make this perverted somehow.”

“Me? Make a comment about my highly pregnant wife bent over an expensive classic car?”

“There it is.”

“Never. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She blows me a kiss. “I love you, weirdo.”

“Love you too, beautiful.” I check my watch. “Ten minutes. Get to work.”

She flips me off and goes back to it. I sit and watch her, even though I have things to do, because even though we’re far from being in danger these days, I still can’t bring myself to be away from her.

I doubt I ever will.

And that’s fine with me.