Cillian's War (Mafia Heirs 5)

“I’m not. I’m only giving a fuck about you and about your survival when I’m gone. I haven’t told your brothers about your bloodline. It wasn’t on purpose at first, but more so because I know other men in positions like yours. Men who’ve been killed by their own family when they discover their power. Now, I’d like to hope that none of you would turn against the other, but I tell you all of this now, so you understand my choices. If you want to tell your brothers, then the card is in your hands.”

I shoot up from my seat, heading over to the bar. It only takes me a moment before I’m pouring myself a stiff drink, trying to swallow everything he’s just told me.

CHAPTER TWO

MIA

Belfast is beyond my wildest expectations. I figured it would shock me in a way, maybe even surprise me, and it has. I grew up in Italy with my mother, and I became accustomed to the Italian culture and lifestyle. Never did I think I’d take a job in Northern Ireland, uprooting my entire life in the process.

My mother married Sergio Russo when I was five. They met while she was waitressing in New York City, and within a year, we were moving across the globe to begin this luxurious life. A life I never thought was possible.

Back in New York, I was used to public school, hot dogs on the street corners, and the stench of the city. What I wasn’t anticipating was going to a private school that only had eight students max per class, freshly made gelato every Friday around the corner, or flowers adorning the cobblestone streets. It was a breath of fresh air and a much needed one at that.

Now here I am, almost thirty years old, starting an exciting new chapter of my life. I suck in a heavy breath as I round the corner, and warmth settles through my body. It’s an exciting feeling knowing I landed a job at Row Interiors. They do all of the interior designs for companies like Maxum Developments, Living Escapes, and Ruggiero & Associates. All of the companies I just listed are staples around the world for high-rise condominiums and apartments, exotic living, and more. The biggest thing I’m excited about is how I landed this job without an ounce of help from my stepfather.

Sure, his money helped me get into the best interior design college in Italy, but my scholarships mostly paid for everything. There were just a few textbooks and programs my scholarships couldn’t cover, so he offered to pay for them.

My stepfather is a nice man. I know so many kids I went to private school with who were stepchildren, and they were treated quite a bit differently than I was growing up. I was treated with respect, almost as if I was his blood. Others hardly ever told me they were being treated the same.

I stand up a bit straighter and put one foot forward in front of the next. It’s my first day, so I head for the matte black doors, and the doorman opens it for me. “Welcome to Row Interiors,” the man says as I pass him and walk inside.

When I was on the street, I couldn’t see the interior, but man, it’s beautiful. Carrera marble floors flow through the space, and there’s an aquamarine wall in front of me where security sits. There’s a massive mural halfway through the center of the wall, with golds, silvers, whites, and an array of blue and green colors. It’s a beautiful statement piece, but I’m sure whoever picked it out is well aware.

I approach the desk, and a man in all black greets me. Meanwhile, other people are shuffling in and out of this place like ants going to the middle of their mound. “Morning, miss. Can I be of any help to you?”

“Morning to you as well, and yes, please. My name’s Mia Russo, and I was told to come here before I head up to the design floor.”

“Ah, you’re the new hire. From Italy, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, that would be me.”

“All right, then. I need your passport, and then I’ll get a badge made for you. This way, tomorrow, when you come in, you can bypass us completely and head straight up. All you have to do is scan your badge like they’re doing over there.” He points to the left, and I glance over. People walk through aisles kind of like they do on the metro in New York, only these are much classier. “Just give me a few moments, and then I’ll get your badge ready. You’re more than welcome to take a seat over here.” He points to a black bench with gold legs, and I head over to where he’s directed me.