Mafia Kings: Adriano: Chapter 9

I nervously checked my phone for the 200th time.

It was almost 8 o’clock, and I still hadn’t heard from my father.

I sighed as I sent another text: CALL ME.

Suddenly a man’s voice snapped, “You can’t have that in here.”

I looked behind me to see one of the Agrellas’ men. He was a thug like all the others, but he wore a more expensive suit.

“Alright, fine, I’ll put it away.”

“Turn it OFF and put it away,” he snarled.

“FINE.”

I powered down my phone and looked for a place to stash it.

We were in a gorgeous hotel suite on the third floor. From the outside, the building looked like an ancient palace owned by the Medicis or some other Renaissance family.

On the inside, though, it was modern and luxurious to the point of obscenity –

Including the pile of cocaine on the mirrored coffee table in the middle of the room.

Another girl was already snorting a line with a rolled-up 100-euro bill.

One of the perks of the gig, I guess – if you were into that sort of thing.

I wasn’t.

I just wanted to get in, get out, and buy my father some time.

I decided to stow my phone in the master bedroom off the main suite.

As I walked past the girl doing the blow, she gave me some side-eye.

Bitch, I thought as I strolled past her.

Although I could understand why she wasn’t exactly friendly.

She looked like a supermodel in a glamorous little black dress.

With my blue wig and leather outfit, I looked like I’d walked in from a futuristic BDSM club.

I had to admit, the leather outfit was sexy… and the thigh-high boots were smokin’ hot.

Maybe that’s why the supermodel was pissed – because the mafia thugs were definitely paying more attention to me than to her.

Although the wig was working as desired. Several of the mafiosos had stared at my chest, then looked up at my face –

But as soon as they saw my hair, their eyes had gone blank.

Total loss of interest.

Score one for the blue hair.

I went into the master bedroom and put my phone down on a bedside table.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened, and the third woman came out and smiled at me.

She was absolutely stunning. She looked Russian or Ukrainian and had the most beautiful honey-blonde hair I’d ever seen.

Plus she was a lot friendlier than the skank doing rails in the other room.

“Are you needing the bathroom?” she asked in broken Italian and a heavy Slavic accent.

“No, I’m good,” I said.

She smiled and looked towards the main room nervously.

“You okay?” I asked.

“This is my first time doing such a thing as this,” she admitted.

“Same here.”

She put out a hand. “Oksana.”

I hesitated, then shook her hand. “Bianca.”

“Nice to be meeting you!” she said cheerfully.

I couldn’t work up quite as much enthusiasm, given that I really didn’t want to be there, but I smiled anyway. “You, too.”

Suddenly another mafia thug poked his head into the room and barked, “They’re comin’ – get out here!”

As soon as he disappeared, I muttered, “Asshole…”

“Yes, right?” Oksana said with a smile – but she tottered off obediently in her four-inch stilettos.

Griping silently, I followed along behind her.

As soon as we got into the main room, the front door opened. A talkative guy in his forties and an expensive suit entered.

“ – and we’re so sorry about all that unpleasantness last month. You have to believe me – we didn’t know about any of it.”

He was immediately followed by three much younger guys – all of them dressed in stylish designer suits, all of them handsome.

One was blond with piercing blue eyes and a short beard. He looked Swedish.

The second was gigantic – a huge guy, at least six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a massive build. He was definitely Italian, with dark brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

But it was the third man who really caught my attention.

He was around 6’2” with piercing eyes and three days’ worth of scruff.

His hair was black, his skin olive.

He wore a scowl, which directly contrasted with the two other guys’ placid expressions.

He also exuded this vibe, like he was a coiled-up ball of energy – like he could go off at any second. Totally unpredictable.

But it was his suit that really got me. It was the flashiest – a dark grey sharkskin suit by Prada with a midnight blue silk shirt open at the collar.

On somebody else it might have looked gaudy, but he pulled it off.

The impeccable tailoring and thousand-dollar shoes certainly helped.

He definitely stood out from all the other men in the room with their black and navy suits.

Not quite punk rock, but… daring. Unconventional.

His eyes darted around the room like he was taking everything in –

And then they stopped on me.

Our eyes met, and there was this almost electric click.

I stopped breathing.

There was a second that felt like it lasted ten times longer –

And then everything went to shit.

He turned angrily to the chatty older guy and snarled, “You brought whores to our meeting?!”

It was obvious he was referring to me.

I was the only woman in the room he’d looked at for more than a split second.

I immediately bristled. My entire body tensed.

ASSHOLE –

“Whaaaat?!” the chatty guy said, like he couldn’t believe such a thing could even been suggested. “No – no, no, no, no, no – just some beautiful ladies, some companionship for the gentlemen – ”

“And this – what the fuck is this?” the asshole snarled as he pointed at the mirrored table with the pile of coke.

The girl who’d snorted some earlier suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

The older guy stammered, “Well, it’s just – we wanted to offer every concession – ”

“This is a business meeting, not a fuckin’ whorehouse!” the asshole barked.

“Of course, of course – we’ll have it removed immediately.”

The older guy clicked his fingers, and a couple of the gorillas moved the coffee table into one of the smaller side rooms.

The coke-snorting girl looked very unhappy.

“May I offer you a drink?” the chatty guy asked.

“I’ll pour it myself,” the Angry Asshole said as he walked over to the bar.

I noticed he picked out a bottle of scotch that probably cost north of $5000.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Chatty Man said with a smile. “Don Agrella will be here in 20 minutes.”

Angry Asshole looked back at him with an expression both enraged and incredulous. “He’s not here?!”

“He was unavoidably detained,” Chatty Man said in a sad What can you do? kind of voice.

“Wonderful,” the Angry Asshole seethed, then pointed at all the thugs standing around. “Get these other guys out of here.”

“Of course,” Chatty Man said. He motioned to all his minions, who filed out of the room.

Then Chatty Man looked at me and the other girls and jerked his head like Get over there and TALK to them!

Cocaine Girl moved first and walked over to the Swede.

Oksana nervously approached the giant.

Which left the Angry Asshole for me.

I sighed inwardly.

Great.

But if I was going to buy my father some time and knock a third off his debt, I had a job to do.