Page 28 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

The room was decked out in deep blue velvet sectional sofas along one wall and a long bar with dozens of high-end liquor bottles, several buckets of Dom, multi-hued bottles of pills and two trays with half used lines of coke.

On a low table next to the sofa, several sex toys, lube and – Jesus, was that a tub of glitter? Why? – sat waiting.

Rafa took a detour to the bar and plinked a fingernail against the coke tray. ‘Are race drivers allowed the good stuff, or is our boy here special?’

‘I believe he thinks he’s special.’ I made eye contact with the stripper who’d opened the door and subtly jerked my head towards the exit.

Her serene smile didn’t slip as she murmured softly in Mandarin. One by one the ladies stood and calmly vacated the room with zero fuss.

Rafa stared after them with a grin before redirecting his gaze to Stan, who had paled and turned into a statue in his chair. ‘You really ticked every item on the menu, didn’t you? Still experimenting with finding your type, huh? I respect that.’

‘What the fuck is this?’ Stan finally unfroze to screech, his dilated gaze bouncing between us before settling on me. ‘Look, man, you won fair and square today. I have no beef with that, okay?’

I tilted my head. ‘You sure about that? Only I’m not sure you value the true meaning of fair and square. But I appreciate that that may not be up to you. That you’re simply caught up in “sins of the father” bullshit. But I’ll need some insight into the working of it, just to be sure.’

He gulped audibly when he saw Fist plant himself in front of the closed doors, his thick arms crossed in front of him. ‘What… what are you talking about? Sins of what father?’

‘Yours, Stan. Keep up.’

His confusion deepened. ‘W-what do you mean? My father is back home in… in Chicago. He’s an investment banker. He’s a good guy… There is no sin.’

‘Are you sure about that, Stanislav ? Because I’m sure your American just took a little detour there. What do you think, frate ?’

Rafa nodded. ‘Yup, he’s definitely giving shades of deep winters and ushankas. St Petersburg, maybe?’

Stan had been simply nervous before, but now naked fear swam in his eyes. He wasn’t too far gone on the booze and coke, and as I prowled closer I felt the waves of terror rising off him. His fists bunched and un-bunched on his thighs.

I thought about taking a seat and changed my mind. High-end club or not, far too many bodies dripping with heaven knew what had used that sofa. I wasn’t in the mood to catch something.

Not so soon after discovering the delights of Maddelena’s enchanted pussy.

‘Interesting that you’re not rushing to deny your name is Stanislav, hmm?’

His shoulders curled and it was almost pathetic how easily he folded. I was highly annoyed, but not enough to take out my wrath on a helpless manchild who hadn’t had the brains to bring enough security to make it worth my while.

‘You are Stanislav Palinski, correct?’ I pressed.

He chewed his top lip for several seconds, his eyes darting between his fallen bodyguards, before he gave up any hope of escaping this, and nodded.

Rafa glanced at me, and a pulse of relief passed between us. Finally, a real-life confirmation that wasn’t dependent on a mysterious hacker.

‘And your real father is…?’

He shook his head, ashen and utterly distraught. ‘I cannot… He will… No. You have to… t-to do what you want to me. I cannot…’

I propped one loafer on the cushion next to him and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Shhh, it’s okay, we don’t need to talk about your papa right now. What about Liv Ivanovski?’

Misery crept across his face, sinking in. Then his chin dipped to his chest. ‘What about him?’ he whispered.

Rafa glanced at me and smirked before stepping closer to the boy. ‘He facilitated your race seat and orchestrated our recent… misfortunes. Yes or no?’

‘ Da – yeah.’ The word floated on a shuddering exhale.

I patted him again. ‘Good. You know what would really help? The names of everyone Ivanovski co-opted into his little scheme.’

Fear-soaked eyes lifted to me, and I saw remnants of white powder ringing his left nostril.

Fucking hell. Maybe I would do a little snitching of my own, let it drop to the authorities about Little Stan’s habit.

Sliding behind the wheel of a 1,000-horsepower racing car with top speeds of over three hundred miles an hour while coked-up was like screaming ‘fuck you’ at the Grim Reaper.

Even worse was taking others into the afterlife with you. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

‘You? Nothing. My issue isn’t with you. As long as you stay in your lane, literally, and lay off the coke, you get to finish your season unscathed. Names,’ I repeated.

He spat the names out like pips from a diseased fruit.

Rage billowed in my belly. Two were mid-level people on my crew I trusted.

Another two were officials I would be paying a visit to in the next week.

The Mancinelli traitors who implemented the ill-gotten info would also be appropriately dealt with.

That might be where things got hairy, but I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

I straightened up and looked down at the terrified driver. I shouldn’t really have thrown him a bone but… ‘My advice to you? Lay low for a while. The next couple of weeks are going to be a little… chaotic.’

Surprisingly, he shook his head. ‘Liv will not come after me.’

My eyes narrowed. ‘Oh no? What makes you sure?’

‘He’s my second cousin. Plus he’s terrified of…’ He clamped his jaw shut.

Rafa laughed. ‘What, you can’t say your own father’s name? What is he, Voldemort?’

Stan flinched.

‘Ah, so Ivanovski is blood? Are you an only child, Stan?’ I asked.

His face creased some more and he nodded.

‘Well, that might just save you. That means he probably won’t kill you if you’re your father’s only child. But I can’t vouch for how badly he’s going to rough you up. He has a trigger-happy temper, I hear.’

Again, he stunned me by shedding a layer of fear and meeting my eyes. ‘It’s you he wants. He’s still angry about you killing his deal with the Mancinellis five years ago.’

Rafa stiffened.

I flicked a glance at him and saw the icy rage building at the back of his eyes. He didn’t tolerate the casual mention of the series of incidents that had taken our mother from us.

‘That was his first mistake, believing he had the right to make deals with anyone without due respect where needed, but especially doing business with El Topo. The Salvatores own New York. Always have. Always will. Feel free to tell him if he needs a reminder. I’m happy to oblige.’

I swept through the doors Fist held open for me, and seconds later I was back in the foyer.

The manager stood in the same position, hands held out, my card in his palm. ‘It was a pleasure to serve you, sir. You’re welcome back any time.’

Fist swiped it and handed it to me, casting a lethal glance at the weasel that had Rafaelle smirking.

‘Yeah, I bet you would,’ he said.

We stepped out of the club and I stopped on the sidewalk to suck in warm air as Fist grabbed the keys from the valet. When the car arrived, a soldier opened the door and we jumped in the back.

‘That was almost too easy,’ Rafa rasped.

I frowned and rapped twice on the thin, polished wood trim of the Bentley SUV. ‘Hey, don’t fucking jinx us, man.’

‘ Scusa .’ He mimicked my knock. ‘So what next?’

‘For now we gather the info on our traitors and we make damn sure they never cross us again. And we get everyone capable of doing so to keep track of Ivanovski’s movements.

Unfortunately, the kid was right. He’s not going to take this lying down.

And he might be stupid enough to use the Mancinellis again. We need to be ready.’

‘Sounds good. I’m starving. Wanna get some dinner?’ he asked.

My nostrils flared as I remembered Maddelena’s text. And the pointed and ominous silence from my phone since my response. ‘Yeah, but not with you, brother. Sorry. I kicked one Mancinelli ass today. Time to go take care of another.’

He stared at me for an age.

But to his credit, he kept whatever he was thinking to himself.