Page 12 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

I much preferred top-level Scotch like MacCallan. Or the excellent vinu russu produced on the Salvatore vineyard we owned in Northern Sicily. A place I hadn’t visited in far too long.

Rafa drank his shot.

A layer of violence receded from the space and Yalcin nodded enthusiastically, distracted by a shiny new subject.

‘Ah, yes!’ He tossed back his shot, poured another, then pointed a fat finger at me.

‘I watch your races. That is interesting business model, no? A racer and gangster? I wish I had your talent, but even if I did’ – he laughed and slapped both ring-strewn hands over his heaving belly, then laughed harder as it jiggled beneath his offensively cheap polyester shirt – ‘I cry if I have to give up my nene’s djiz biz , yes? ’

‘That’s probably wise,’ Rafa agreed with a grin. ‘You find your lane, you stick to it, I say. Saves slashed throats and broken bones.’

Confusion shortened Yalcin’s raucous laughter as he tried to work out if Rafa had just insulted or threatened him. Behind him, his men twitched, equally confused.

Giving up after several seconds, Yalcin’s eyes switched to me. Accurately read my need to get the fuck on with this.

‘ ?v?t! So, I was thinking, in spirit of future relations, we renegotiate original price slightly, yes?’

The muscle above my left cheekbone twitched. ‘No. We will not be doing that,’ I replied. ‘The original price stands.’

Yalcin exaggerated a grimace. ‘You have not even heard my counteroffer.’

‘Don’t need to. We had an agreement. There will be no deviation from that.

Fifteen million for three consignments of your favourite toys.

Renegotiations are not part of the deal.

Fresh negotiations, however, I’m always open to.

’ I pulled myself out of my lazy sprawl so there would be no mistaking my deadly intent.

‘Fair warning though. If those future negotiations include you thinking you can leverage a certain competitor of mine in the hopes of cutting a better deal, I’d save you the trouble and tell you now, you will be cut off without further warning. ’

Because our feud was a widely known thing, there were those who thought they could use it to pit us against the Mancinellis. Those idiots soon learned their lesson.

I rose from the chair as Rafa reached for another shot glass and tossed back a second helping of vodka. Setting it down with a click, he rose too.

‘The Turks have been begging for us to cut you off and give them your order. They’re willing to pay 25 per cent more than what you’re paying.

’ I leaned over the table, bringing myself into Yalcin’s space, trying not to gag at the fumes of vodka and stale sweat rolling off his body.

All around the room, fingers edged closer to belts and holsters.

I ignored them all, my eyes drilling into him.

‘Maybe I’ll jump on my plane and head over there after my race on Sunday.

Maybe I’ll stop next door, pay your Armenian neighbours a visit, tell them a spot has suddenly opened up on my customer list.’

Barely ten seconds passed before Yalcin waved his fat fingers. The tension eased a layer, but I wasn’t done.

‘The next time you think of threatening me with the Mancinellis, I’ll have my brother deprive you of a few of those rings, with your fingers still attached to them. Capisci ?’

Mutinous fury rolled over his face, and his mouth worked in preparation to mouth off some more.

The muffled pop to my right made Yalcin jump in his seat, his eyes widening in shock as his head swung towards the sound a split second before a scream ripped through the warehouse.

The runner closest to Rafaelle who’d made the error of breaching my brother’s personal space clutched at his left knee, babbling in terrified Azerbaijani as blood spilled between his fingers. All around us, guns cocked in a symphony of impending violence.

‘What is meaning of this?’ Yalcin yelled.

I smiled. ‘That was for wasting my time. Don’t worry, Rafa didn’t hit anything vital.

Your man will walk with a small limp for the rest of his life but’ – I shrugged – ‘at least he’ll live to tell stories about it, yeah?

’ I nodded to the tablet on his desk. ‘Let’s finish our business, shall we? I have a busy weekend.’

He scrambled to pick up the tablet and activate the screen. Ten seconds later, Rafaelle’s phone pinged. He pulled it out and checked the screen before slotting it back into his pocket.

The Salvatore Organisation had just added fifteen mil to their coffers. That should make Orazio happy for, like, ten seconds.

I finally straightened. ‘Next time, let’s meet in New York. I’ll introduce you to a juicy steak that will blow your mind.’

Lies. I had no intention of ever meeting Yalcin Karimov again.

He’d overplayed his hand, revealed his weak underbelly and shown he was nothing more than a figurehead with a bloated ego to go with his bloated body.

From now on he’d be dealing with a medium-ranking lieutenant while I went after bigger fish in Turkey.

We exited the warehouse and Sumqayit with zero fuss after our guns were returned.

‘Call the Turks. Arrange a meeting.’

Rafa frowned. ‘You were serious about going over there?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Make it somewhere neutral. A month from now. After the US Grand Prix but before the race weekend in Mexico.’

‘You want to hand Orazio a fat new deal on home soil in addition to a possible race win in Austin or to save being skinned alive in case we don’t.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘I like it.’

But…

I heard the unspoken word loud and clear.

‘What? Spit it out.’

‘But… you know nothing’s gonna save you when he finds out you’re fucking around with Maddelena Mancinelli, right? I mean, nothing short of you telling him all these… secrets meetings you’ve been having are a prelude to you slitting her thr?—’

My gun was in my hand and buried in his throat before he’d blinked. ‘Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you,’ I said with gritted teeth, hugely alarmed by the cold sheets of ice washing over me at the thought of Maddelena being harmed.

Dark caramel eyes he’d inherited from our mother regarded me with zero concern for his safety. ‘You’ve just proven my point, frate ,’ he murmured.

From his position behind the wheel, I saw Fist’s eyes flick to me, then return to the road.

With my free hand, I hit the privacy screen separating us.

Fist was as loyal as they came, but even I wasn’t sure I wanted him to overhear what I had to say to my brother.

Rafaelle watched the screen until it reached the roof, then raised his eyebrow at me.

I flicked my gun’s safety back on and returned it to the holster beneath my left arm, a little shaken.

It wasn’t the first time I’d threatened a family member with a gun.

Hell, it was almost a rite of passage in my family.

In Orazio’s book, you weren’t truly a man until you’d handed down your first pistol-whipping.

But it was the first time I’d been confronted with the unsettling possibility that my intent wasn’t entirely hot air and bullshit. That the thought of anyone – myself included – harming Maddelena in any way tossed a red haze of unhinged fury over me.

‘Talk to me,’ Rafa pressed softly.

I realised my fingers were trembling slightly where they rested on my thighs, and I clenched them into fists.

‘She’s…’ I ploughed my fingers through my hair, gripping a handful tight enough to make my scalp burn. ‘I’m not sure what she makes me feel but… it’s not… insubstantial.’

Rafa’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re saying you have a thing for her?

Like some weak West Side Story bullshit you’re going to let pass through you like a badly made cannoli or the more serious Godfather Three kind that’ll earn you a bullet between the eyes and plunge us all into a shooting and poisoning spree? ’

I laughed, a little alarmed that the fucking Romeo and Juliet analogy kept circling back to kick me in the balls.

If Rafa could see it after just two meetings with Maddelena, how long before everyone dropped their own interpretation on things?

How long before fresh vendettas were hatched by two bloodthirsty old men in the name of family honour?

Was I better off coming at this thing from a different angle?

The sucker punch to my gut gave me the answer I needed. And the answer to Rafa’s question. ‘Fucking hell if I know what the fuck I’m feeling, but it won’t fucking go away.’ And I didn’t feel inclined to let it.

He raised his hands slowly, pre-empting an attack.

‘At the risk of you going through with shooting me, why don’t you just fuck her and get it the hell out of your system?

’ He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘I mean, if you ask me, I’m hella shocked you’ve waited this long to go through with what you threatened her with in that warehouse.

Maybe all this is… pent-up bullshit for her misleading you back then?

’ His gaze probed deeper. ‘Is that why you didn’t do anything back then?

Because it was more than just a dick-dip-and-bounce thing? ’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ I hedged, but the itch beneath my breastbone and the heavy stone in my gut screamed yes .

That, like it or not, Maddelena had bewitched me that night and whatever strain of witchcraft she’d used on me had only intensified since.

Were we falling into some macabre, modern-day Romeo and Juliet bullshit?

Feeding off the danger because of the sheer homicidal lunacy even the thought of pursuing anything with her would birth?

Was that why I hadn’t gone through with making her pay, because I was a little terrified the feelings she evoked in me went beyond just retribution?

Or did I know I would need to find a fucking counter-spell to release myself from said lunacy but hadn’t found the antidote yet?

I wasn’t about to say any of this to Rafa of course because I wasn’t some emo sorority chick high on ayahuasca bleating on about star-crossed lovers and witchy spells. And I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t shoot him this time if I said something stupid and he laughed.

But whatever it was, it’d started before she and her family threatened the dream I held sacred above all else. She’d dragged herself into the orbit I’d hedged on allowing her to occupy.

So… maybe Rafaelle was right. Not handing out retribution back then made me weak when I was nothing but.

Fuck her, get it out of my system.

And if it fails? Romeo and Juliet didn’t exactly walk off into the fucking sunset, and you enjoy breathing, no?

I was a master at pivoting and improvising. I’d had to be as the son and grandson of the powerful Cosa Nostra.

My fingers drummed on my thighs as I stared out of the window. The lights of Baku City were coming back into view. Roadblocks were fully in place to cordon off parts of the city that would turn into the racetrack. I should be concentrating on FP1 tomorrow.

Not the way she looked. The way she smelled. Hell, even the dainty way she ate her steak was fucking hot. And fuck yes, those hot tits.

I didn’t get a chance to see them, play with them and taste them all those years ago.

Porca troia , Rafa was right. She fucking owed me. My nails dug into my thighs as my cock thickened and jerked in eager agreement.

Hitting the button of the privacy panel, I felt Rafa’s curious gaze as it descended once more.

‘Fist, change of plan. Drop me off at Claremont Hotel.’

‘Nah, ignore that order, Fist,’ Rafa countermanded.

‘What the fuck?’ I growled.

‘You got away with invading her territory once tonight. Fist laid out a few of her soldiers. You’d be walking through two loads of soldiers with wounded pride, with the possibility of one trigger-happy schmuck itching to put a few bullets in you before you can reach her.’

‘I’d love to see them try,’ I snarled.

‘Oh, they’re cum-brained enough to try at some point. But let’s not make it easy for them, sì ? You concentrate on getting through first and second practice tomorrow and let me work out the logistics.’

Impatience clawed through me. Now that the seed of seducing myself free of her had taken hold in my brain, I wanted to get the show on the road.

But my brother was right. While I’d been confident Fist could handle the task I’d set him, I knew we’d ruffled Mancinelli feathers.

Between that and Rafaelle blowing the kneecap off Yalcin’s minion, perhaps we’d tested the Almighty enough for one night.

I slammed my head against the headrest as Fist turned left towards our hotel instead of right towards Maddelena’s.

Rafa slapped me on the shoulder. ‘You’ve waited over ten years. What’s another twenty-four hours?’