Dark Mafia Heir: Chapter 4

Vivienne knows I’m watching her. She can’t see me, but I’m sure she can feel me staring at her from the driveway across the café. It’s obvious from the way she keeps looking around anxiously.

I wonder if her pulse is racing as she scans the place, or if her blood is whooshing in her ears from how nervous she is. It’s not a good feeling to know someone is watching you, and it’s even worse when you have no idea who it is.

My lips curl with a smile because Peter Cole doesn’t know what hit him yet. I can’t wait to relish in his shock when he finds out I’m hunting his precious daughter.

“Nio, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to mess with Peter Cole’s daughter,” Luca says, his face marred with concern. “This could start a war.”

He’s right. Messing with Vivienne could start a war, but I don’t give a shit. Not when Dante is about to become food for bugs underground. Not when my mentor was taken from me in such a cruel way.

I’ll start a war… Scratch that! I’ll turn the whole fucking world upside down if it means I get the answers I need. And the only way to do that is through Peter Cole.

Vivienne picks up her bag and stands up. She urges her sister to do the same and her red hair falls over her face as she rummages her bag for something. She leans over the table, and my dick twitches at the shape of her ass.

Fuck, that girl is hot in a way that can make a man beg on his knees. I’ve been with a lot of women, but something about her makes her irresistible. It’s not just her beauty, but her fierceness and protectiveness.

If she weren’t Peter Cole’s daughter, she would have been something more to me—someone dear. Not that I would fall in love with her, but I would keep her all to myself.

Even now, despite knowing who she is, I’m tempted to make her mine. Asides my revenge, it will be fun to see Peter’s face when he realizes his little girl warms my bed and sucks my cock.

“Dante wouldn’t have wanted this,” Luca says. Those words are enough to make me snap my head in his direction.

“Dante is dead. What he would’ve wanted does not matter.” My insides flare with rage. “What matters is that I punish those who stole his life from him. Do you understand?”

Luca hesitates, but he finally nods. “How are we going to do that? Dante won’t just talk because you want him to.”

I smirk as Vivienne and her sister walk out of the café. Vivienne suddenly stops walking and turns around.

Her emerald eyes meet mine. They’re sparkling under the afternoon sun, filled with so much life that I just want to drain them out of her, little by little, until there’s only darkness left.

For a moment, I want to think she’s seen me, but the tinted windows do not give me the chance to be that delusional.

She stares at my car for a moment longer before her sister, Harper, grabs her hand and pulls her along with her.

“Oh, trust me. There’s a way to make him talk,” I drawl with amusement.

Luca shakes his head. “Please tell me it is not what I’m thinking, Nio.”

I chuckle sardonically at the surprise on his face. For someone who tortures men to death and smiles in their faces while he does it, Luca is such a soft guy.

He’d be better off selling cotton candy at Disney or wearing Barney costumes if he wasn’t so good at shooting a gun.

It’s not that he’s a good guy. For most of us, women and children are where we draw the line. While I would like to continue being that perfect gentleman who wouldn’t drag a woman into mafia business, I’ve gone past the point of giving a shit.

My phone buzzes, and my alarm goes off. It’s almost time for Dante’s funeral. My chest tightens with an ache I haven’t felt since I lost my family.

It’s the feeling of losing someone you care about, and it fuels me with so much hate and rage that nothing else matters.

The car roars beneath me as I turn on the engine and flash a mirthless smile at Luca. “If what you’re thinking is as dark and twisted as the voices in my head, then you’re right.”

I’ve always hated funerals. The gloomy faces and red-rimmed eyes are something that makes me uncomfortable.

And there is a little bit of jealousy at the fact that people get to bury their loved ones—something I never had the chance to do since I became homeless after my parents and younger brother were murdered.

I was just seventeen then. Too young and afraid to protect my family. I’d run the night they were killed, and I lived on the streets for a while before Dante found me and brought me home.

He taught me everything I know, from how to shoot a gun to how to be ruthless and cold-blooded.

The only thing he’d not taught me was how to move on when he was no longer here. He was the last family I had left, and they took him from me.

Dry leaves rustle under my feet as I walk towards the group of people gathered in one part of the cemetery. From the distance, I can see Dante’s white coffin waiting to be lowered to the ground.

I’ve killed more people than I can count, but this hits different in a way that makes my chest hurt. I still can’t believe I won’t get his annoying calls or get to hear him nag when I drink his favorite whiskey.

It feels surreal.

I stop in front of the priest and bow my head as he prays for Dante’s soul. Birds chirp in the distance, and any normal person would revere the scent of flowers and earth.

But not me. All I can smell is the stench of formaldehyde and rotten corpses. This place reeks of death, and it makes me nauseous.

The prayers are over after what feels like an eternity, and Dante is lowered to the ground. I take a fistful of sand and toss into the grave, promising to take my revenge on whoever is responsible for his death.

My mind drifts back to Vivienne. She’ll be the perfect tool for my revenge. I’ll use her while breaking her bit by bit until Peter goes on his knees to beg me for his little girl to be returned to him.

After the funeral, we retreat to Dante’s house, and I go upstairs to greet his wife, Mariana.

She’s sitting on the dresser in her room, and my jaw clenches when I see the bitter smile on her face and the tears trailing down her cheeks.

Mariana looks like she’s aged twenty years in just two days. Her fair skin is now pale, her eyes deep in their socket, and she looks so much thinner.

Dante and Mariana didn’t have any children together, but they raised me like I was theirs. Everything I have now, I owe it to them.

I knock gently on the door so as not to startle her.

She flinches, quickly wiping away her tears and turning to face me with a forced smile. “Antonio.” Her voice is shaky. “You’re here.”

“Si.” Yes. I enter, walk inside the room, and lean against the vanity table. “You weren’t at the funeral.”

She nods. “I couldn’t bear to see them put him in that cold ground. My husband hated the cold—” she chokes on her words and trails off. More tears run down her cheeks despite her struggle to fight them. “I’m sorry.”

A numbness creeps through my limbs, as if the weight of the word is weighing me down. I hate to see Mariana this way. Her tears hurt me even more than Dante’s death.

I get on one knee in front of her and take her hand, brushing it softly with my thumb. “I will find who did this and I swear to God, I will avenge Dante. I promise.”

She cups my face with trembling hands. “I know you will, child. But you must be careful. I cannot afford to lose you too.”

“You won’t. I come to you the moment it is done.” I take the back of her hand and press it to the top of my head. “You must be strong for me, Mariana. I cannot face Dante in heaven if I can’t keep you happy.”

“I won’t die until every one of those bastards do,” she assures me. “I won’t rest until all our enemies are in their graves.”

I turn my head to the door as the sound of footsteps draws nearer.

Lorenzo appears in front of the door, greeting Mariana before shifting his attention to me. “The men are waiting for you, Nio.”

I nod and return my attention to Mariana. “I have some things to take care of. I’ll have dinner with you after I finish.”

She bobs her head.

I rise to my feet and follow Lorenzo to the living room, where some of the members of the Cosa Nostra are waiting. Dante was the head. Now that he is dead, someone will have to fill his spot.

Rafaelle Vitale is the first to speak. “We have to move on from this, but we must first appoint someone to take Dante’s place. I think we all know who it must be.”

Luigi Santoro speaks up next. “Dante had no children. There is no one to take his place.”

He glares at me, and I glare right back at him. Luigi is like a green snake in a field of green grasses. Cunny and conniving with his own selfish interests. His greed will be the death of him soon enough.

“He had a foster son who he wanted to take his place,” Rafaelle says. “Antonio will be the next leader. There’s no better person to take the position.

Some of the members agree with a nod, some don’t react at all. Luigi is seething, though. I want to gouge his eyes out and feed them to him for daring to glare at me in that way.

“So, a boy of unknown origins becomes the head of the Cosa Nostra?” Luigi chuckles sardonically. “That won’t happen, not while I am alive.”

As much as I would like to watch the drama unfold, I have a plan to kickstart it. I don’t have the time to stay here and listen to Luigi’s nonsense.

“If it can’t happen while you’re alive, then die,” I say, my voice cold and emotionless.

“How are you, boy?” His chest heaves with anger. “You don’t deserve that position, you’re⁠—”

Before he can finish, I pull my gun out of the holster strapped to my chest and pull the trigger twice.

The first bullet pierces right into his chest. The second one drives a hole between his eyes. Blood splutters, and his body falls to the ground with a thud.

Panic erupts in the room, and the tension grows to a palpable degree.

Still holding my gun, I stand to my feet and glance at the men one after the other, daring any of them to say a word. “Does anyone else have a problem with me leading the Cosa Nostra?”

No one says a word, but they all shake their heads.

A maniac smile splits my lips. “Good. Now, let’s get to business, shall we?”