God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

When Carlo brings the SUV to a stop at one of my warehouses, I shove the door open and climb out. Straightening my jacket, my gaze sweeps over the area before I head toward the side door.

The moment my men see me, they straighten up.

Tommy rushes toward me. “We found the fucker trying to deal in Mott Haven. There were five other guys with him, but the fuckers put up a fight, and we had to kill them.”

Nodding, I walk to where the drug dealer is sitting on the floor. My men have restrained him with zip ties and already gave him one hell of a beating.

Stopping a couple of feet from the prisoner, I say, “Dealing in the Bronx and Brooklyn is ambitious. What made you think it would be allowed?”

The man lifts his head, and when his eyes lock on me, they widen with fear.

Immediately, he starts to ramble, “We were just told to sell in those areas. They offered us good money for the work. Please, I have a family. It’s tough out there. I just wanted to make a quick buck.”

When I continue to stare at him, he starts to sob. “Please. I’m just a bottom feeder. A man by the name of Leroy gave me the job. That’s all the info I have, boss.”

Letting out a sigh, my eyes flick to Tommy. “Find Leroy.”

“Yes, boss.”

“So I can go?” the dealer asks, his tone filled with hope.

Not sparing him another glance, I turn around and walk to the side door.

“No! Wait! Wait!” he shouts right before a gunshot rings through the air.

Reaching the SUV, I open the passenger door and pause to say, “I want more men cleaning the streets. If we wipe out the bottom line, it will cut into Miguel’s profits. Hit the fucker where it hurts most.”

“On it,” Carlo mutters.

Climbing into the SUV, anger and frustration simmer in my chest.

I want Miguel’s drugs out of my fucking city.

I pull my phone out and go into the group chat with the other heads of the Cosa Nostra. I start a video call, and when only Angelo, Franco, and Renzo answer, I frown.

“Where’s Dario?”

“He’s probably at the ballet company,” Renzo replies. “He’s been busy with the upcoming show.”

Right.

“There’s a meeting at my club tomorrow at nine.”

“It’s a Saturday,” Renzo mutters.

“Your point being?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be there.”

“You better have a lot of coffee,” Franco says.

The corner of Angelo’s mouth lifts. “See you tomorrow.”

I end the call and glance out the window.

Carlo drives us to the penthouse, where the helicopter is waiting, and as we take the elevator to the roof, he says, “It will be nice to spend the weekend at home.”

I just nod, my thoughts turning to my other problem.

It’s been a week since I left Gabriella at the mansion.

I’ll have to wait until after the ballet company’s show before bringing up the subject of an arranged marriage to Dario.

We climb into the helicopter, and as it lifts into the air, I look down at my city.

I’ve worked my fucking ass off to make a name for myself. The blood I’ve shed forms a red carpet in the streets where everybody knows my name.

I want Miguel dead.

As we fly over Long Island, where Angelo lives, I think about how busy the other men’s lives have become. Angelo and Franco are drowning in baby shit and diapers. Renzo is focused on his woman and the restaurant he opened for her. And Dario is working his ass off at the ballet company.

Once I’ve dealt with Miguel and arranged the marriage between Dario and Gabriella, I’ll take some time off.

Maybe I’ll take Mamma on a vacation. She seldom gets to leave the mansion.

The helicopter lands on the helipad, and climbing out, I glance at all the guards while I walk to the French doors.

When I step into my home, I suck in a deep breath of the familiar air and let it out slowly.

I head straight for my suite, and shutting the door behind me, I let the darkness wrap around me. My eyes drift closed, and I drink in the silence.

I’ve always been a bit of a recluse, and interacting with people exhausts me to my core.

Taking another deep breath, I switch on the lights and head to the bathroom. I open the faucets and while the water warms up, I strip out of my suit.

As I place my Glock on the counter, my eye catches my reflection in the mirror and staring at myself, I take in the fine lines around my eyes.

I see the emotionless expression and try to remember the last time I felt any kind of emotion.

A frown forms on my forehead when a memory flashes through my mind.

Gabriella keeping eye contact with me in the living room of her parents’ house, caught me by surprise. When she took a step away from me but then caught herself and stood her ground, something shifted in my chest.

She was manhandled but kept her chin raised.

Stefano even hit her with his belt, and she didn’t shed a single tear.

Gabriella is either fucking strong or broken beyond repair.

In my experience, I’ve learned broken people don’t fight back. Which means she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever encountered.

She’ll be a good match for Dario with his soft heart.

Letting out a sigh, I step into the shower and let the warm water wash over my body.

I automatically go through my routine before switching off the faucets and drying myself. When I walk into the closet, I’m tempted to put on a pair of sweatpants so I can just go to sleep.

Check on Mamma first.

I grab a pair of chinos and a sweater. After getting dressed, I stop in the bathroom to get my Glock, and as I tuck it behind my back into the waistband of my pants, I leave my bedroom.

The mansion is quiet when I take the stairs down to the first floor, but nearing Mamma’s sitting room, I hear Gabriella say, “The dresses are so pretty.”

“Bridgerton is my favorite show,” Aunt Greta murmurs.

Just as I’m about to enter the sitting room, Mamma says, “Describe the dresses to me, Gabriella.”

“They have really high waistlines. They’re elegant, and all the colors are pastel. Some have flowers printed on the fabric. They kind of remind me of the outfits they wore in Pride and Prejudice.”

“I saw that movie,” Mamma mentions. “Good, now I have an idea of what everything looks like.”

“Aida hasn’t always been blind,” Aunt Greta says, and it has me stalking into the sitting room.

Gabriella startles, and Aunt Greta’s eyes fly to me. I head straight for my mother, a smile already forming on her face.

She’s always been able to feel whenever I’m close by.

“You’re home,” she murmurs, reaching out in my direction.

Taking hold of Mamma’s outstretched hand, I help her to her feet, and without bothering to greet the other two women, I lead her out of the sitting room.

Mamma doesn’t talk as we walk to the other side of the mansion where the sunroom is. I don’t switch on the lights as I take her to one of the plush sofas.

The room is filled with indoor plants, and the glass ceiling allows moonlight to shine into the space.

Once we’re seated, I lean back against the sofa and close my eyes.

Mamma leans against my side, then whispers, “Are you tired, mio figlio?”

Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “Yes.”

“You work too hard.”

“If I stop, it will leave the family vulnerable,” I mutter as I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders.

There’s a minute’s silence then she says, “I’m proud of you, Damiano.”

“Thank you, Mamma.”

She pats my thigh, then mentions, “Gabriella seems nice.”

“Mmh.”

“We’ve spent a lot of time with her the past week.”

“Mmh.”

“She made dinner tonight. Coda alla vaccinara,” she mentions. “There are leftovers in the kitchen. You should have some. It’s really good.”

“Mmh.”

I let out a sigh because I know where Mamma is going with this conversation.

“Don’t sigh at me,” she mutters. “Dario’s still young, whereas you need to settle down or I’ll never get to see my grandchildren.”

I force my tone to sound calmer than I feel as I say, “Don’t, Mamma. I got the woman for Dario. End of story.”

“Such a pity,” she sighs.

My eyebrow lifts, and my voice sounds almost playful as I ask, “Now you’re sighing at me?”

“Tit for tat,” she chuckles.

The corner of my mouth lifts, and I give her a sideways hug.

“When things quiet down, we should take a vacation. Where would you like to go?”

She thinks for a while, then answers, “The house in Manhattan. Just the two of us.”

“That’s not much of a vacation,” I mention.

“It doesn’t matter where you take me, Damiano. I just want to spend time with you without work interfering.”

Ever since she was blinded, she lost interest in traveling to foreign countries. There’s a stabbing sensation in my chest, and for the millionth time, I wish I could kill my father all over again.

“I’m going to head to bed,” I say as I help Mamma to her feet.

“Try to sleep in tomorrow.”

“I have a meeting at nine.”

She shakes her head, not looking pleased.

I take Mamma back to her sitting room, where Aunt Greta is busy watching TV. Gabriella must’ve returned to her suite.

Once Mamma takes a seat in her favorite armchair, I press a kiss on the top of her head. I spare Aunt Greta a nod before leaving the room.

My phone starts to ring as I head upstairs, and seeing Dario’s name, I answer, “What took you so long to call me back?”

“I was having sex.”

Shaking my head, I mutter, “There’s a meeting at my club at nine tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be there.”

The call ends, and I shove the device back into my pocket while shaking my head again.

The last thing I needed to hear was that Dario just had sex.

I hope it was a one-night stand and nothing serious, or I’m fucking stuck with Gabriella.