Chapter 25

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 25 When I walked away from the bedroom, I heard Caterina howl in pain –

And I wanted to die.

But I kept on walking. I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and make my way up the stairs to my room.

I told myself over and over again, It was just a fling...

It wasn’t serious...

She’ll get over it.

But at the moment, it felt like I might never get over her.

Not that I would have admitted that to anyone.

Hell, I couldn’t even admit it to myself.

I threw some clothes and shoes into several suitcases, along with some suits in hang-up bags.

When I was almost ready to go, Niccolo walked in. “Don’t forget to bring your tuxedo.”

“Why?” I asked angrily.

“Because you’ll need it to get married in.”

He walked out, and I snarled under my breath, “Motherfucker.”

But I packed the tuxedo all the same.

A foot soldier drove me and Niccolo out to the airfield amongst the olive trees. I ignored my brother the entire way.

An old jet was waiting for us on the airstrip.

And when I say ‘old,’ I mean old. The fucking thing looked like it was out of the 1970s.

“We’re supposed to fly in that?!” I exclaimed as we pulled up.

“Second lesson,” Niccolo said. “When a Sicilian offers you something – whether it’s a ride on his plane or a glass of wine – never, ever criticize it. EVER.”

I scowled at him as we got out of the car.

The foot soldier carried my suitcases, and I took the hang-up bags with the suit and tuxedo.

I noticed Niccolo didn’t have so much as a carry-on.

“You’re not bringing any clothes?” I asked.

“I won’t be there that long.”

“But I’ll be there for fucking ever,” I snarled.

Nic didn’t say anything.

We boarded the jet, which had seats that looked like they hadn’t been replaced since 1979. The leather was scuffed and ripped in places.

There wasn’t a stewardess to help, so I just stashed my bags in a closet near the entrance.

“Can’t this guy afford a better jet?” I muttered to Niccolo.

“What did I say about criticizing Sicilians?” Niccolo whispered harshly.

“Yeah, yeah. Is he poor or something?”

Niccolo smiled grimly. “He’s probably the richest man in the Cosa Nostra. Only the Widow of Venice has more money.”

“And he can’t get a new fuckin’ jet?”

Niccolo gave me a SHUT THE FUCK UP look as the pilot came out of the cockpit.

He was an old guy, probably close to 70, and brown as a walnut from years in the sun. He looked pretty strong, but it was hard to ignore the white hair – on his head and growing out of his ears.

He told us gruffly in a Sicilian accent that we’d be in Palermo – the capital of Sicily – in an hour and a half. Then he told us to strap in and went back to the cockpit.

“Maybe Don Vicari should get a new pilot, too,” I muttered.

“I’d bet you a million dollars that guy has flown combat missions in the military,” Niccolo said. “Not to mention a thousand drug runs through NATO and Russian territory. If there’s anybody in the world you want flying your plane through a storm, that’s the guy.”

I looked at Niccolo dubiously.

“You have a lot to learn about Sicilians,” he said drily.

I took a seat as far away from Niccolo as I could get. For most of the flight, I just stared out the window and ignored him completely.

About halfway there, though, he came over and sat down in the seat opposite me.

“I realize you hate me right now,” he said, “but I’m trying to do what’s best for the family.”

“Which includes fucking me over, apparently,” I snarled without looking at him.

“If it’s the girl – ”

“She has a name.”

“If it’s Caterina, then why didn’t you take Dario up on his offer?”

He didn’t say it snidely or anything – but the question enraged me all the same.

“I’m 22 years old,” I said. “What the fuck were you doing when you were 22?”

“Preparing to be a consigliere,” he said quietly.

“Oh, that’s all you were doing? ‘Cause I seem to remember you, Dario, Adriano, and Massimo partying your asses off.”

“But not Roberto?”

“I don’t think Roberto would know a party if it spat in his face.”

Niccolo chuckled. “That’s probably true.” Then he grew more serious. “We had our fun back in the day, yes... but it wasn’t all fun.

Dario wasn’t much older than you are now when he went off to prison.”

“He was 26 – not 22. And he got out of prison. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to be getting out of this marriage.”

“Dario got out, yes, but he only got out alive because he met Lars. People tried to kill them all the time in San Vittore.”

“And, what, it’s gonna be peace and love where I’m going? No danger at all? Give me a fucking break.”

Niccolo narrowed his eyes. “In the past, whenever war broke out, I’m sure the men who got drafted bitched and moaned about all the guys before them who hadn’t had to serve. But in the end, when war comes, they hand you a gun, and you go fight.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get as many good years as Dario and Adriano and I had, but believe me: war has come to our doorstep.

Times have changed. We’ve all picked up our guns, and now it’s your turn to serve. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but don’t get angry at me – get angry at Fausto and Aurelio.”

“Oh, believe me, if I ever get the chance, I’m going to shoot them both in the back of the head,” I snarled. “But it’s not Fausto or Aurelio who’s forcing me to go to Sicily.”

“No, it’s not. It’s me and Dario,” Niccolo said. “And you can hate us for the rest of your life, if you want.”

“I’m pretty sure it was all your idea, so I just think I’ll hate you for the rest of my life.”

“Be that as it may... if you don’t marry Don Vicari’s daughter, and he and the rest of the Council vote against our family... then Fausto gets to do whatever the fuck he wants. And right now, he’s winning. So when you get gunned down like they tried to do to Massimo last week, and you’re lying there bleeding in the dirt, you’ll be wishing you’d gone to live a life of luxury in the Sicilian countryside.”

“At least I’d die a free man, with a gun in my hand and nobody telling me what the fuck to do,” I snapped.

“Then I guess you should have taken Dario’s deal,” Niccolo said coldly.

He got up and walked away.

I guess you should have taken Dario’s deal.

I hated Niccolo with a passion right now –

But his words had the ring of truth.

I thought back to Caterina, my heart aching, and wondered, Why didn’t I?

Why DIDN’T I take the deal?

If I was going to be honest, it’s because it scared the shit out of me.

Dario’s words echoed in my memory:

You SWEAR to me you’ll be faithful to her your entire life. No other women – no affairs.

I was 22 years old. I had no fucking clue what I wanted out of life –

But I knew I didn’t want to have to make that decision right now.

I wanted time.

I wanted to party.

I wanted to be young.

Did I care for Caterina?

Hell yes, I cared for her.

I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I wanted her, deep in my bones.

But promising to be married to her for the next 50 years?

And never getting to touch another woman, ever?

That scared the hell out of me.

And, yeah, while I was getting forced into a similar mess by having to marry some chick I’d never even met...

It felt different.

In one situation, I was being forced to do it.

In the other... I’d have to willingly do it.

I’d have to make the choice.

And as fucked up as it sounds...

I almost preferred being forced to do it.

At least that way, I could hate Niccolo and blame him...

Instead of putting it all on myself.

But one other thought lingered in the back of my mind:

Maybe there was something I could do or say that would blow this whole thing up.

Maybe I could make Don Vicari come to the conclusion that I wasn’t the right guy for his daughter.

If I could make him bail on the deal...

Then maybe I could go back home to Caterina...

And it would be like none of this had ever happened.