Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 16

Romano groaned, rubbing his face, which was getting a reddish flush alarmingly fast.
"Bastard still has the meanest fist," I told Romano, who scowled at me. I shrugged and resumed my walk. We didn't speak, which was part of the reason why I chose Romano to come with me.

Bruno always had an uncanny way of reading my mind, which meant we would have ended up talking about Sophie.

I didn't want to think about her, least of all talk. I was going to ignore the hell out of her. Her rejection still stung a little bit.

But to be fair, maybe she was just afraid and confused. In less than 72 hours, she had witnessed a murder, kidnapped by the man who committed the said murder, and now she has been given a directive; though not categorically, she wasn't allowed to go back to her life.

"Do you know any moving company?" I asked Romano. He had stopped rubbing his face but appeared grim and in a very bad mood. God help anybody who'll cross him today.

I saw him get out his phone; I imagined he was making a Google Search checking out any moving companies in our vicinity. After a few minutes, he made a call giving instructions to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

Walking was cathartic. My thoughts for Sophie decreased in motion. I could feel Romano beside me without looking, walking together in companionship. His mind was as preoccupied as mine was, probably still pissed.

I had said please. I said the word please to her as if I used it every day.

It's courtesy, damn it!

I kept telling myself! But it was a big deal. I can't remember saying please to anybody in my entire life.

We were headed to one of my clubs. I needed to do something, and discussing business and figures was another way of taking my mind off Sophie.

We entered through the back door. Several of my men stood to say hi. I was young for a don, but I was old enough in experience to lead families, and I had five under my authority.

Passing through the hall to the office, I found Donati, my club manager, foundling a young girl who wore a minuscule of a pantie and a bra that barely covered her nipples.

He tensed the moment he saw me. I saw fear and anger. I probably thought, how dare I come unannounced.

It's my fucking club. I could make an impromptu visit if I wanted to. The truth is, I hadn't planned on coming here, but I had to get away from Sophie for a few hours. It was either walk away or force her to talk to me, which would have ended up in a disaster.

"Get the hell out of here," Romano told the girl. She didn't have to be told twice; she ran away like the devil was after her.

I looked at Donati as I sat down on his chair. His shirt was still opened to his waist, his hair rumpled.

"How old is she? " I asked him calmly; my eyes fixed on him as I took a cigar from his desk, lighting it up.

"Twenty-one, I think, boss?" he responded, his eyes blinking.

"How. Old. Is. She?. And this time, think before you answer me. Romano here is dying to blow some steam. Something tells me pulling the trigger into your forehead will improve his disposition."

Looking afraid, his hands shaking, he fumbled with his shirt, trying to button it up.

"She is seventeen" his voice was low, but I heard.

I had a policy in all my clubs. All girls were supposed to be twenty-one and above, which was still a major disagreement in meetings among the other families' heads, But I was their don; my word was law. I was not going to be like every other cliche mafia don who capitalized on peddling flesh.

While I engaged in every crime known to man, I drew a line on prostituting young girls for gains.

"You have violated one of the most important policies that I have. How many other underaged girls do you have? " I asked, tightening my hands into a fist. I got up and walked to where he was standing. I felt rage that I hadn't felt in a long time; I figured he just triggered all the emotions I had bottled up in the last few days.

"Could be thirty," he murmured, trying to take a step backward.

He stared at me for a fraction of a second, begging me to spare his life.

"Please, boss...they wanted the job, some of them have kids, they just wanted the job. I forced no one into it," he said quickly and quietly, moving his hands as he tried to explain and defend himself.

"What about the girl who was in here? Was it her choice? Somehow I fail to see the attraction. She is young, beautiful and you're ..What-Forty? And you're also not very good on the eye either."

"Forty-five," Romano said in disgust. "You do realize that statutory rape, don't you?" he continued coming up to stand beside me and hitting his head with the rear of his gun.

Donati turned his head and stared at Romano with such intense hatred it would have scared a lesser man.

I knew then that I couldn't have him in any of my establishments.

"Call Fabricio," I told Romano, who was standing by the window overlooking the huge swimming pool, which was almost full of people. I could hear the laughter, the drunken slurs, and giggles.

Donati knew what calling Fabricio meant.

"Ples..pleas..please boss, I will never again do anything that goes against your policy," he begged. Falling to his knees to beg at my feet. Get the hell up; I'm not God. I snapped.

"I don't want to die" his whole body shook, he was almost in tears, but men in the mafia rarely cried. I have never seen a mafia man cry; I can't picture myself crying.

"Boss," I heard Fabricio call from the doorway. His face, I noticed, wore a surprised look as he took in the scene.

Fabricio was a dandy. He was always dressed to perfection, not even a hair out of place. Today he was in white chinos, an opened white shirt showing the hairs on his chest, and roofers. I acknowledged him with a nod, then turned to Donati and assured him his family would be cared for.

Suddenly like a reflex, Fabricio hurried to another side of the room as Romano pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the room. But at least Fabricio's attire was spared though I did hear him cuss.

"You're the next manager," I told Fabricio.
" I want all the under-aged girls fired and given an alternative. I will be back in two days. You better have a plan."

I walked out, Romano slightly behind me. The club looked the same; no one would have guessed or even imagined that a murder had been commitment less than five minutes ago.

We were ready to go home. I stole a glance at Romano; his mood was still the same.

"Is there a reason why you're still gloomy and overbearing?" I asked

"I wasn't aware I had spoken," he retorted

"Don't be a smart ass! "