Made Men

6. Pest Control

Vito Bellini was not a merciful leader. Despite his nickname being Saint, he was anything but one. He was made to fight, lie, kill, there was nothing remotely honest about the thirty-one-year-old. To become a feared Don of a well-respected mafia, the whole concept of mercy simply did not exist to him. He had been conditioned from early on to be the way he was, and that meant he lacked basic empathy for everyone and everything. Mercy, to him, paralleled the easy way out, it meant to give up completely.

The dinner table filled with low murmurs, he could see the eyes of the men on him as they waited for him to take the first bite.

Rolling his tired eyes, he lifted the fork to his mouth and took a bite of his pasta.

"Do you like the food, baby?" An annoying shrill came from the left of him, his eyes found those chocolate ones in a flash.

Clara Russo would be his personal demise, he had never thought a woman could piss him off as much as she did.

This whole 'have a relationship with another mafia's princess' was a stupid plan. One that his men insisted he does as a way to strengthen ties.

He didn't do relationships, he pretty much only knew how to get his anger out by fucking and killing. He didn't do this shit, he didn't know how.

"It's alright," there needed to be more sauce, it was so fucking dry. He needed to fire whoever had dared to put such a monstrosity on his plate.

"Oh," she breathed, moving to caress his arm. "You don't like it? Mamma made it just for you."

Her Mamma, the chubby woman sitting in front of him, gazing at him with those beady fucking eyes. Glancing over at the elderly woman, he turned his head in to whisper into the princess's ear. "I have business to talk about, you need to leave."

"But what about dinne—"

Gesturing two of his men across the table, he pointed over at the girl and her mother.

Within minutes, they were being escorted out of the dining hall and he felt like he could breathe again.

Fabio's menacing chuckle sounded as the short man came into his line of sight. "You're whipped." He taunted the leader.

A scoff escaped. "Don't be fucking stupid, have you heard her?"

They had heard her alright, his entire team had the misfortune of hearing her high pitched whale of a voice.

"How much longer before I slit her throat?" Vito warned, stabbing his fork into the pasta again. He ate angrily, the fury coming out of his ears.

"Not long at all. We need the deal to go ahead, but you know what her father's like, he wants to see marriage from you."

Yeah, not fucking happening, he mused. He had a plan on how to get the princess off his back, first, he needed the signature.

Fabio was his right-hand man, he had been there for everything. After the mafia parents had died, Vito did not have anyone to trust other than the stumpy idiot before him.

He didn't like him very much, but that didn't mean he wasn't one of his best men.

"Everyone sit." Controlled, straight to the point, his right-hand man told the rest to take a seat. "We have a lot to discuss."

One by one, they found their position at the table, soon enough twenty of his men stared at him in awaiting.

"Someone's been letting our secrets run freely, one of you figlio di putanna's has been lying to my face. You wanna know what happens to rats in here?" His voice was demanding, yet low. He didn't need to raise it to know they were all listening to him intently.