Married to the Mafia Boss

Miguel

It’s two in the morning, the hour of poets and gangsters, especially in New York City. You’re either one or the other-there is no mingling in those worlds. The crime lords of this city have no tolerance for the arts other than to use them to cover up illegal business dealings.

Entertainment is our game, the Rossi game. We run casinos, movie production studios, art galleries, and anything in-between.

My driver pulls into the back lot of a quiet industrial area. We don’t own many warehouses to move our products, but the few we have are well isolated. I step out of the car and button my suit jacket. I look around warily, ensuring no unwanted eyes see me walk into the building.

I always have to be on my guard.

“Don Rossi,” the guard greets me, buzzing me into the building.

“Where is he?” I ask. I don’t have to speak loudly to be heard.

The guard motions to the right. “At the back. Lyle and Jarred are with him now.”

Suddenly a scream sounds from the direction Harry pointed in. I nod and take long strides, navigating the empty stations to the back, where my two cousins are looking down at a man strapped to a wooden chair.

“Mr. Kippler,” I say. My cousins part ways, allowing me to get nearer the man.

He’s nearly fifty with graying hair. One eye is swollen shut, and his lip is bleeding. There are bruises all over him and more blood stains than I care to count. He’s also pissed himself, which is always charming.

“I apologize for my cousins. They tend to get carried away sometimes. I, on the other hand, am a man of simple pleasures. Tell me what I want to know, and we’ll return you to your family. No further harm will befall you. You have my word,” I explain.

He spits blood onto the ground in front of me. “The word of a Rossi means nothing, especially since I have told your cousins I don’t know anything about the Sorvino family plans. I am only a friend.”

“A family friend who often goes to Don Sorvino’s house. I know that you know the supply routes that the Sorvinos use and that they use your bakery as a cover. What I also know is that you have a beautiful family. Two girls, right?”

“Leave them out of this,” he whimpers. I’m not moved. I don’t care about children, even my nieces, and nephews. You fall in line, or you’re dealt with, family or not. There is a pecking order, and I am at the top of it.

“Alessandro helped Andre Catalan gain power in Mexico not so long ago. Is Alessandro making a power play for other territories?” I ask, picking up a scalpel from the small table to my right.

“I don’t know.” He stresses the words, and for a moment, I consider believing and trusting him, but I’ve learned you cannot trust anyone in this industry. Not in our world. There is no one you can trust. Everyone will betray you eventually.

I hold the scalpel to the older man’s face. “I’m going to slice your eyelids off so you can never close your eyes again,” I murmur. “And you can watch every little thing I do to you until you have the balls to tell me what I want to know. If you fear the Sorvinos, I can have you and your family moved under our protection. I’m willing to offer you that, Mr. Kippler.”

He stammers a little and then shakes his head.

“No? You don’t want my protection?” I ask, tracing the blade lightly on his cheek, not hard enough to break the skin.

“No, I won’t betray Alessandro. He has been good to me and my family. He is a good man,” Mr. Kippler says.

I nod to Lyle, who grabs the man’s head and tilts it up, holding it steady. “There are no good men in families like ours, Mr. Kippler. Only powerful men and a few men willing to do whatever it takes to control that power.”

I slowly grab his eyelid, and he screams as I slice at it, pulling it at the same time. Lyle holds him as still as he can, and I shush Kippler. “Now, now, I wouldn’t want to take your eye out. We still have so much to do.” I grin, slicing the last bit and pulling the eyelid off. “There, that’s better. Now the other one.”

He screams again but offers me no information. He is a fool-brave, but a fool, nonetheless.

I stay until four in the morning. I look at his lifeless body. He has just died. The torture was finally too much for him to bear, and his heart must have given out. Suffering can do that if you’re not equipped to handle it.

He handled it better than I expected but not as well as a Rossi would. I wipe my hands on a cloth hanging nearby. “Roll his body into the Hudson and get some rest. I’ll call a family meeting later.”

Lyle and Jarred acknowledge my words and get to work. I leave the way I came, casting a wary glance once more when I’m outside. Alessandro will not be pleased if he finds out I killed a family friend, but he doesn’t need to know yet. I will make my move, and when I do, the Sorvino territories will fall under my command.

My driver takes me back to my apartment, and I take the elevator to the penthouse. I wash my hands properly and change into some sweatpants and a wife beater. I climb onto the treadmill and start running, speeding up every ten minutes until I sprint. Then I lower it slowly only to speed it up again.

I run on the treadmill for over an hour before turning it off and going to the shower.

As the hot water splashes over my body, I let my mind wander just a little. It isn’t a good idea to focus on negative things when you’re a businessman. You need to focus on the positive and keep the money rolling in. Being responsible for the family now that my father is retiring is a new challenge but something I’ve been training for my entire life.

As I rub the soap into my stiff muscles, I consider what I need to say at the family meeting. We need to make a move against the Sorvinos sooner rather than later. They won’t be expecting it because they’re still celebrating their win over Jose Catalan, the Don from Mexico that threatened their family.

I pull on some briefs and slide into bed, lying down on my back and staring through the ceiling at the sky. I specifically had glass ceilings installed in all my residences so that I could see outside. It is shatter-and-bulletproof so no one can use it as a weakness, but I don’t sleep. I don’t sleep at all, so I look at the stars and spend the night planning my next move.

I haven’t slept since I was twenty. If I’m honest, I haven’t slept since she left. She just left me, upped, and vanished without a trace, and Lord knows I tried to trace her. I used numerous family resources to try to find her, but no, she’s more than likely dead.

I stare at the brightest star in the sky and give a little sigh. My doctor says it’s insomnia, but I feel like it’s more than that. There’s a piece of me missing; without it, I can never rest. I will never sleep.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

I only know that the Sorvinos made her disappear, and I have spent a lifetime planning to make them pay for it.