Page 248 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

And voila! Problem solved.

He is truly the best at what he does, but he always keeps a low profile as a result.

He has to pretty much be invisible at all times in order to do his job as swiftly as possible.

If you so much as see him coming, it’s already too late.

You’re dead.

Dante thrives on the element of surprise in his kills.

He’ll get you either way, but he favors the sneak attack.

I stab the Accept button. “What’s the good word, bro? I thought you were holed up somewhere in South America.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m in your living room,” he says with a loud yawn. “And I need some pizza. Who do I order from?”

“Bleecker Street Pizza,” I say. “Best around and they’ll deliver fast.”

“Good, I’m starving. What time will you be home?”

“A couple of hours,” I say. “Hey, you’ll never guess who I just ran into. Marchella Amante.”

“Get the hell outta here. She still hot as fuck?”

“You have no idea.” I crane my neck to see if she’s returned to the seating area, but there’s no sign of her yet.

“Too bad her father fucked shit up. I’d have loved a chance to get her on her back.”

“Shut up,” I grumble.

“Still so sensitive about that, huh?” Dante chuckles. “You never could close the deal.”

“Like I ever had the option.”

“Yeah, Frankie was a sick bastard. He’d have castrated you.”

“Or worse,” I quip. “I wonder what she’s been up to. Her father caused a real shit show when he killed that Russian. I hear he’s in gen pop on Rikers Island. His days are numbered, that’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna make a play to comfort her?”

“Nah, she didn’t recognize me,” I say, seeing Ray and Bobby finally walking into the restaurant. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. The guys are here. Don’t drink all my booze. I’m gonna need some when I get home.”

“I’ll try to save some of the booze. But don’t count on any pizza.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I smirk, clicking to end the call.

Ray and Bobby shuffle over to the table. I watch the patrons peer curiously at them as they walk over to meet me. They stick out like sore thumbs with their slicked-back hair, wearing expensive suits and shoes.

Definitely not the uniform for this type of place.

The guys pull out their chairs and sit down. Their eyebrows are knitted, their jaws tight, and I’m damn anxious to find out what they know.

And ready to take action against the pricks who tried to pull one over on me.

I lean forward, my hands folded. My eyes dart between their faces for a minute or two. “Are we speaking tonight? Or are we doing the whole mental telepathy thing for privacy’s sake?”

Ray takes a deep breath, raising his eyes toward mine. “Sorry, Roman. We, ah, have some information for you, but you’re not gonna like it.”

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