Book II of the Mafia Escapades series
"I could never have feelings for you, Rocco. You are the definition of a red flag, that keeps swaying around like a gnat. You struggle to hide your emotions towards me, like a child with no self-awareness."
"D...
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I always knew the Russians were going to start issues, it was bound to happen. In the rear of my mind, the awareness of my conscious spoke precisely and clamant. Some events lead to this, and those events cost us in the end.
I was coming back from Florida after the wedding of Enzo and Nova Marino. The woman he married was an outcast from the Siena, at least in my mind. But father wielded the idea of her being an outsider since her father was Luis Davis, a loyal soldier.
The only reason I attended was to meet my soon-to-be wife. If there was any other reason, I wouldn't have been there. I was never a fan of Enzo, as he never took a liking to me. I always thought his father, Alessandro was a bit naïve as well, and put us at risk too many times. If I had it my way I would kill the bastard.
Though I don't know Enzo well enough. All I know is his work is sloppy. His mind doesn't work the same way mine does, or any other Capo that works under me and my father.
There was never a time I was wrong about my work, so when I was called in the crack of dawn to act on an outlawed matter within one of my men; what I had perceived to be right, was wrong.
"This better be good Manuele. I am lacking sleep." I walk out of my car, facing my private estate. Here we held our captives and did our killings. I don't live here in my everyday life, but I use this home when necessary.
Not only that but we have the law on our side to aid our killings, I don't like sloppiness. Killing messy is weak-minded. Me, I like it to be precise and equated properly. We pay the law enforcement and lawyers to keep our names out of any suspect list and give them the best whores and around that would do things their wives can't imagine putting down
Manuele backed off the doors of my estate. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it, leaving a mark. When he realized I had been staring at it, his arms raised defensively. He got down to pick up his crap. "This is a good one. You know I wouldn't call you if it wasn't."
"What is it?"
We walked into the house. It was filled with yelling and smelt of booze. To my right, three drunk young teens played video games on my couch, drinking liquor that I didn't provide.
"What are they doing here?" I cock my head.
"Elio had some business to handle and didn't feel like dealing with them. I thought maybe one of them could learn some lessons from today's matters. Got to make them tough, right?"
I scrutinize the young boys. Their food was laid out on my coffee table, shoes on my carpet, and beer cans crushed up. It made my skin crawl. I don't use this estate often but when I do, I like to see it untouched.
"Santoni's!" I shout. "I won't say it again, clean up after yourselves or I'll beat the crap out of all three of you."
All three boys looked up at me and rolled their eyes. These boys have no respect, not for me; their underboss, not for their oldest brother Elio and not for anyone around them. I didn't feel bad for them and their back story. Their parents dying had to be something that would make the boys tough yet it broke them. Countless times I tell them they need to rise from their heartaches and not fall like a bunch of cowards. At times I think they are still to young to understand, even as young mademen.
