Married to the Mafia Boss

Miguel

I stand there, staring at the Sorvino brat’s boyfriend after, who I thought was Kira, storms out of La Club. I can’t believe it. I’m pretty sure that I am way drunker than I thought I was. I must be hallucinating.

I shouldn’t even be here, this is Sorvino owned, but I like to live dangerously. The idiot boyfriend asks me again if I have a problem, and I wave him off and turn to the group I’m with. “Go home. I have things to think about.”

We all file out of La Club, and I get into my car. Revving the engine high, I take off into the night and go straight back to my apartment.

Once inside and drinking a steaming cup of coffee, I sit at the window overlooking the city.

Kira.

She isn’t dead. She’s back in New York City. Where has she been? What has she been doing? Why did she look so angry to see me? Fuck, I tried to kiss her. If the families find out, there will be hell to pay.

I’ll tell them I don’t know who she is and would drunk-kiss anyone. I used to be a party animal, especially after she left, so it’s believable.

I run.

I shower.

I climb into bed.

I toss and turn and picture her raging eyes looking into mine. I wanted to kiss her because-back then-it had been such a natural thing we did, such a habitual thing that even after thirteen years, I want to do it just because it’s her.

I see her. Her dark curls. Her curves I adored and devoured so many times before. All of her. She’s stuck in my head.

After breakfast, I send a notice to my family for a meeting at ten. You can’t trust someone to take care of the family business for you. It’s how you end up being shot and overthrown. I go to my office and start addressing the matters on my table. There’s always a pile of things to do, and I’m the man who has to see to it.NôvelDrama.Org content.

People come and go, wanting answers to problems or their next set of instructions from me. Just before ten, I step outside onto the balcony of my apartment and light a Cuban cigar. I inhale deeply and look over the city.

New York. The city that never sleeps.

Like I don’t ever sleep.

I was born and raised here, and I suit the city well.

I hear a knock at my door, and I stub out the cigar, leaving it on an ashtray outside.

“Come in.”

I sit back at my desk as everyone files in, and last but not least, my father. He’s the one who’s retiring. He is mostly retired now. He doesn’t get involved much in family business anymore. Everyone knows I’m the one they answer to now.

My brothers, cousins, uncles, and father are all in one room. One of my cousins, Lyle, is missing, but I know he’ll be along shortly. I sit on my high-backed chair and say, “We need to decide what we’re doing about the Sorvinos.”

“They pose no immediate threat to us,” my father says. “I still think we should leave them be while we build our forces to overthrow them as New York’s main family.”

“This move to dethrone Jose Catalan is basically begging for a war.” I look around, and about half the room looks like they agree with me, while the other half looks apprehensive.

“I…”

The door opens, and Lyle hurries in. “Don Rossi, I’m so sorry. I have urgent news. It’s why I am late.”

The frown lingers on my lips. “What is it?”

“One of our main supply warehouses was blown up about twenty minutes ago. Everyone is dead. I had to pay the cops to sniff around without acknowledging the drugs and counterfeit money. They’re keeping the crowds away, but it’s sure to be on the news.”

The rage must be showing in my eyes because I feel everyone, except my father, shrink back from me. I look around. “I want to know who did it.”

Lyle clears his throat, “There was a calling card, boss. It was the Sorvinos.”

He takes a square piece of paper out of his pocket and passes it to me. On the back is Alessandro’s signature, and when I turn it over, I see it’s a crime scene photo of Mr. Kippler’s body. They knew we killed him, but this was going too far. This is going to set back the family thousands of dollars. He also killed my people-men and women who didn’t deserve it. I’m not the warm and fuzzy type, but those workers were loyal to the family.

I crumple up the photo and quickly toss it aside. “Fucking Sorvinos.”

“They’re declaring war,” my brother Ricardo says. “It’s all-out war.”

“We should give a strong response. Show them we won’t back down or cower.” It’s my father’s suggestion, but I shake my head.

“Cool heads must prevail. If we start retaliating, they’ll attack us, and on it will go. No, we need to hit them where it hurts.”

Everyone is silent as I think, I go outside, leaving them standing there, and I light my cigar and come back. I don’t normally smoke inside, but I make exceptions.

“We need to take one of their own to bargain with. Not only will we get our revenge, but we will also get a piece of their pie.”

“Jose Catalan tried to take members of that family, but it didn’t end well for him,” Jarred says from his spot in the back right.

I shake my head. “They tried to take Frankie and Dominic, strong men who know how to fight back. We need someone easy to take, the weakest link in the family that Alessandro will bend the knee for. We need to take Arianna Sorvino.”

I smirk as my father nods his approval. “It could just work.”

I look at Lyle and Jarred. “She’s about five foot four inches with blue-gray eyes and dark hair. She’s often with her brother Dominic at La Club. Go find her and bring her to me discreetly.”

They hurry off without a word, and I sit back in my high-back chair. “The rest of you set up tight security here and at the estate at Long Beach. I want everyone on this.” I take a deep drag of my cigar as everyone starts filing out.

“You look like you haven’t slept….”

“In thirteen years?” I finish my father’s question. “That’s because I don’t sleep, Padre. Now, you’re not hanging around just to check if I’m getting a good night’s rest, are you?” My green eyes meet his hazel ones, and he nods.

“So much like your mother. You have her eyes,” he comments.

“So you tell me every chance you get,” I stub out the cigar. “What is it, Padre?”

“Be careful declaring war on powerful families because you don’t know if the other families will side with you or betray you,” he says casually as though I don’t know this simple fact. It’s very hard to respect him when he speaks to me, his Don, with such a condescending tone.

I sit back and steeply my fingers over my knee, my leg crossed over the other. “I don’t need other families to align with me. If they take the losing side, I will simply wipe them out of New York like I will Don Sorvino.”

My father chuckles. “I admire your spirit, boy. Use your head. You were always excellent at long-term strategies. I trust you, don’t make that an unfounded fact.”

He gets up, takes a Cuban cigar out of the box, and pulls his lips down in a gesture that shows he’s mildly impressed. He pockets it and walks out.

I watch as the door closes behind him, and I sigh. My father is a tough man to please, but I won’t completely disregard his advice. I know what I’m doing will be seen as a declaration of war.

Maybe it’s time.

Maybe it’s come to that.

Maybe Kira coming back is the sign that it’s time for this battle to begin.