Page 21 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
I slam the laptop shut and pick up the blood-soaked note I found tucked inside the box next to Will’s hand. My vision tunnels into a red haze of pure fucking rage. The words blur together as my pulse hammers against my skull.
The note is simple. Direct.“You took mine. I took yours. Will Rawlings will lose pieces until you learn respect.”
Will Rawlings. Our bar manager. Good man, loyal soldier, and now a severed hand in a gift box because I underestimated how petty the Pakhan could be.
Dario’s voice cuts through the static in my head. “I’ve confirmed that Will didn’t show up at work today.” He’s pacing my office like a caged wolf, all restless energy and barely contained violence. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Luca sits on the couch clutching bourbon like it’s a lifeline, but his knuckles are white around the glass. My sons are angry.
They have no idea how much deeper my rage runs.
Because it’s not just about Will. It’s not even about Kozlov’s disrespect, though that alone is enough to make me want to paint the walls with his blood. It’s about the look of terror in Mia’s eyes when I opened that box. The way she shrank back from me like I was the monster in the room.
Maybe I am.
“Check his home anyway,” I tell Dario, though we all know it’s pointless. “But Kozlov isn’t bluffing. Will’s probably already begging for death.”
“Fuck,” Luca mutters. “This is turning into nasty business.”
“It’s always been nasty business.” I resist the urge to pour myself a drink. I need clarity, not comfort. Especially for whatever conversation awaits me upstairs with my skittish wife. “The only difference is now they’re making it personal.”
“I’ll check Will’s place,” Luca offers.
“And I’ll handle the bar,” Dario says. “Make sure operations stay smooth.”
I nod. “Double the security here. I want this house locked down tighter than a confessional.”
“On it.” Dario starts toward the door.
“Wait.” I stand, straightening my suit jacket. Both my sons pause, and I can see them bracing for another order, another crisis to handle. “Before you go, you should know that your old man got married last night.”
The silence that follows could choke a man.
“What thefuck!” Luca shoots to his feet so fast bourbon sloshes over his glass and hits the hardwood.
Dario’s reaction is more controlled, but I can see the questions blazing in his eyes. “You got married?”
“Her name is Mia.”
Another beat of dead air.
“That’s it?” Luca stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “That’s all you’re telling us?”
“For now.” I crumple Kozlov’s note and toss it in the trash with more force than necessary. “You two have business to handle. My wife is upstairs waiting for me.”
Probably terrified and plotting her escape, I don’t add. The dinner Rose prepared is still sitting in the oven, forgotten. This was supposed to be our first real evening together. My chance to start winning her over properly.
Instead, she got a front-row seat to the brutality of my world.
“Okay, fine,” Dario says, but his expression promises this conversation isn’t over. “But I want the full story soon. There’s got to be one hell of a reason behind this.”
Luca drains his bourbon in one gulp. “A stepmom, huh? Can’t say I saw that coming tonight.”
“More surprising than a severed hand?” Dario asks.
“Considering Dad hasn’t dated a woman in years? Yeah.”
“I’m standing right here,” I growl.
