Vicious Proposal: A Dark Mafia Romance

“More than you’d think.” He sighed and laughed. The bastard was enjoying himself.

I let him finish the tour. Silvano was a showman: he enjoyed the attention and the spotlight. I asked questions, nodded along to his comments and speeches, smiled at his bad jokes. When we were through, we left down another short hallway, dropped our hard hats with a guard, then stepped into the bright afternoon sunlight.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking out over the scrubby landscape that abutted the facility.

“I think you have a real product here,” I said carefully. “And you’re making it in a very secluded place.”

“All the better to surprise those bastards out east.” He slammed a hand down on the steel railing. It vibrated under his palm. Silvano was a strong man, big and hearty, but he was soft. He grew up in an Oligarch family.

He’d never seen a loved one take so many pills that they passed out behind the wheel of the car and had to be revived by Narcan, like coming back from the dead.

The sick fuck thought getting a bunch of innocent people addicted to his pills was a good way to wage war.

But I had first-hand knowledge of what addiction would do to a family, and I’d never wish that on anyone, not even the monsters of the world.

“They won’t roll over and die,” I said quietly, not looking at him, doing my best to hide my disgust. “Roman still controls several mafia families, and Kaspar—”

“Kaspar,” Silvano said, exasperated. “Everyone goes on and on about how scary Kaspar is. You know what I think? I think he’ll die like anyone else after I put a bullet in his skull.”

I rolled my eyes. Silvano’s false bravado never failed to annoy me.

“Kaspar’s clever. Don’t underestimate our eastern brethren. They may be squabbling, but now that Maeve’s empire is settled and in control of Darren’s sister, they’ll be stronger than ever. She’s Redmond’s wife, which means all five of the eastern Oligarchs are linked together by marriage or alliance.”

Silvano leaned against the rail and twined his fingers together as he stared across the scrubby landscape. He sighed and lowered his head, staring down at his feet.

“You know how long it took me to get my house in order after I took over for my father?”

I went still and tilted my head. Silvano ascended to control over his family’s business after his father was murdered by the discontented head of a mafia. It was rare for an Oligarch to get killed by his own people, but it had happened over the decades and generations. Deal with violent men, die by violent means.

“You never talked about it.”

“Of course not. If you vultures knew how difficult it was to pacify my people—” He stood up straight and waved a hand in the air. “The first thing I did was hunt down that bastard Fernando. I tied him up in my basement and personally cut his fingers off, one by one. I filmed the whole thing and sent it to every man in his organization before putting a bullet in the fuck’s skull.”

“Sounds like overkill.”

“It was a message. I needed them to understand that I can’t be messed with.” He sighed, looking into the sky. “They came after me anyway. It took months of fighting until the rebellious scum were slaughtered and the rest of my people were pacified like sheep. I hated them, hated them so much, but they taught me something.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. “And what lesson would you like to impart upon me, Silv?”

“You’re not handed a damn thing in this world. You have to take what you want, or else you’ll be stomped on, again and again. The boot of the world is always poised above your throat.”

“Is that what you think the eastern Oligarchs are? A boot, ready to crush your windpipe?”

“Yes,” Silvano said, meeting my gaze. “The world’s changing, Alex. Roman and Darren showed us that when they started their petty war. The old rules no longer bind the Oligarchs, and it’s only a matter of time before they turn their attention in our direction. They control too much strength and they’re too closely tied together, and if we don’t stand against them, we’ll be crushed.”

“We’re Oligarchs,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not what we do. Petty fights in the street? That’s for the mafias we command.”

“The world’s a filthy place.” He sounded exhausted, and for the first time, I wondered if the strain of running his family was getting to him. Silvano was a hearty man, always loud, always brash, but he was human like the rest of us. Exhaustion would kill as easily as a bullet, though slower. “We’ll have to get our hands dirty from here on out. I’m only preparing for the inevitable.”