Page 50 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“If you’re living under the delusion that anyone in the Bianchi Family would ever run from you, Jerry, you’re sorely mistaken. And I’ll be happy to show you the error of your ways when I come home.”
“Aye, or maybe we’ll use your little vacation as an opportunity to show you who we really are. When the cat’s away…”
“You know I’m not scared of you.”
“I know that’s true, but maybe you should be.”
“Jerry,” I snarl. “You need to stop calling me. Stop making threats. You’re only making this worse for yourself.”
“Who answered the phone, Dario? You finally found a lady down there? Is that it?” When I don’t say anything, he goes on. “It is, isn’t it? That silence tells me all I need to know. Maybe I’ll find out who it is, pay her a visit.”
“If you ever threaten her again, I’m going to wipe out your entire bloodline.”
Something in my tone shifts the mood of the entire conversation. Perhaps he can tell I mean it.
“Your brothers, your uncles, your old man. Only your women and your children will be safe. Everyone else-anyone who’s so much as taken a fucking collection for you -will be in the dirt.”
“Juh-Jesus, Dario.”
“That’s the way it is.”
“You know this is how business is done. These are the sort of words men say when they’re trying to get theirs.”
“I will paint the city in your blood if you even think about making a threat like that again. Listen to my voice; tell me I don’t mean it. Tell me I’m bluffing.”
“Jesus,” he repeats.
“You’ve been on the whiskey, I’d bet. It’s three in the goddamn morning there. Been on the whiskey and now you want to play the tough guy. The game’s over. You’ve overplayed your hand. Hang up this phone and think seriously, Jerry, sincerely ask yourself… do you want to start something with me?”
I let a moment pass, then go on.
“I’m not talking about my father or my uncle or my godfather. I’m talking aboutme, Jerry, because that’s what you’ll get if you press this point. I’ll come down on you and yours like it’s my sole purpose in life. If it means doing the rest of my life in a super max prison, I’ll do it. Understand?” I squeeze the phone so hard I’m afraid I might break it. “Understand?”
After a pause, Jeremaih mutters, “I get ya, Dario. I… yeah, let me sober up and think on this.”
“Good man.”
I hang up the phone, close my eyes and take a moment. I never normally let myself go like that. But even if Jeremaih was fishing when he mentioned Siena, even if he doesn’t know who she is, it was still a button he shouldn’t have pushed.
Walking past the room, I tuck my cell phone into my pocket and go to wait for Rocco on the beach.
He appears a few minutes later, wearing shorts and nothing else, showing off how fit he is for a man almost sixty years of age. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I force a smile. “Yea. Hey, you’ve already got a tan.”
He grins. “I’ve been sunbathing, and that’s pretty much it. Making the most of this break. Being a consigliere is hard work. Not like being Don, eh? That’s when a manreallygets to rest.”
“Father works hard. Don’t let people hear you saying shit like that.”
Rocco narrows his eyes. “You’re… right. I got carried away.”
“My bad, Rocco. My head’s fucked this morning. Let’s run, help clear it.”
“In this heat, it’ll do more than clear it. You’ll be lucky if you have any thoughts left.”
“Right now, I’d consider that bad luck.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “Want to talk about it?”
