Page 256 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Occupational hazard.

When I said I wanted the guys to relay a colorful picture, I wasn’t kidding.

I hope they take pictures.

I want everyone to know exactly what will happen to them if they abandon their responsibilities under my rule.

I want them to fear the consequences of their deception.

I want them to understand that no amount of money is large enough, no pussy is tight or sweet enough, to warrant the kind of torture and torment that I will bring to them.

I step away from my masterpiece, my shoulders quaking, my breaths coming in heavy pants.

Dario is barely conscious at this point, which is actually too bad.

I grit my teeth. He needs to realize that the misery I just caused him isn’t the end.

His head rolls back and forth after a few minutes, his eyes open a crack.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out, silencing a groan when I see Matteo’s name flash on the screen.

Anxiety consumes me as I regard Dario.

I made the right move.

Fuck, I had to do this! I had to prove to everyone who and what I am, dammit!

A nagging voice in my head reminds me that the king doesn’t carry out the executions.

He only orders them.

I hate this second-guessing shit! I did what I had to do to protect the family and our interests!

Whether or not Matteo will agree is another story, but I don’t have time to relay the grotesque tale right now. I decline the call and stuff my phone back into my jeans.

I look up at the expectant faces of the men standing in front of me.

They’re looking for direction, for strength, for leadership.

So I give it to them.

“Finish him,” I say through clenched teeth, abruptly turning around and storming out of the warehouse. My phone buzzes again and I stab the Accept button when I see Bobby’s name flash on the screen.

“Boss,” he says. “We’ve got Salvatore. And the name of his partner.”

Tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Tell me,” I growl.”

“It’s one you know well from back home,” Bobby says with a deep sigh. “Frankie Amante.”

My throat tightens.

My ex-best friend.

Here in fucking Manhattan.

Screwing me years later, just like his father did to mine back in Sicily.

And the brother of my date at eleven tonight.

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