He grunts in agreement, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. I motion to Danny. “Get him out of here, will you? We’re done.” Tommy starts muttering curses in Italian while Danny jerks him to his feet and attempts to bully him out the door. Then Tommy glances back at me and says with menace, “fucking faggot with your diseased boy whores,” then spits on the carpet, and that’s where my mercy ends.
In three strides, I’ve grabbed him by his hair and drug him back toward me. The knife I keep in a holster next to my gun is already in my hand. “Rico,” I command, and Rico shields Giovanni from what comes next. To Tommy I say, “If this is what I get for being nice, then I’ll see you in hell,Tommaso.” I drag the edge of my blade against his neck, fast and brutal, as I’ve done countless times before. I step backward and he drops to the carpet, grabbing at his spouting jugular to try to stem the glut of blood. I wipe my knife on his shirt, then hand it off to one of my men to properly disinfect—I don’t want any droplets of blood or lingering DNA.
“Roll up the carpet and take it out the back,” I say to Carmine while Tommaso still gasps and thrashes on the ground like a beached fish. “Find me another rug by tomorrow night. Something red. Send my condolences to the family and set them up with a monthly allowance to help with the loss of income.” To a dying Tommy I say, “The family’ll take better care of your wife and kids than you, you homophobic piece of shit.”
And that’s how I ensure my men are respectful.
Carmine and a couple other guys handle the body, quickly and efficiently, and I replace my now-cleaned knife back in its sheath.
“The rest of you, go get a drink. Rico can man the door.” I rub my forehead to ward off a tension headache and wait until all but Rico have left the room before turning again to Giovanni. His eyes are wide and wary, and I worry I’ve gone and fucked him up again.
“I didn’t mean for you to see that.” I lay a hand on his head and instead of pulling away, as any rational being would from a monster, he leans into the touch, placing my palm against his cheek and nudging it like a puppy who wants to be pet. I brush my thumb over the apple of his cheek and tuck his hair behind one ear.
“I didn’t see anything,” he says, wise beyond his years.
“Yeah, well, you got anything you want to say to me?” I brace myself for whatever recriminations he might hurl my way, but rather than answering, he grabs my hand and turns it over, leans forward and spits something onto my palm. It’s a cherry stem tied in a perfect knot. I grin at the absurdity of the gesture. “Anything else?”
“I couldn’t do what you do, Valentin,” he says quietly so that Rico can’t hear him. “And I wouldn’t want to. You can keep the family business.”
I collapse onto the couch beside him and spread my arms wide. Giovanni sidles up next to me, mindful of my gun. “How do you feel about what just happened?” I ask, but what I’m really asking is how could he remain loyal to me, knowing that I am a murderous bastard?
“Kingdoms and tribes are as old as time, and there have always been those who rule them. I’m sure everyone in the family knows the consequences of what happens if your rules are broken.”
I nod at his rationalization, all of it true. Does it justify my actions? I’m not so sure.
“I wouldn’t trust myself to make those decisions,” he continues, “but I would trust you, as my grandfather trusted you. You are just, Valentin, and fair. A modest, humble king. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m relieved,” I admit. The stakes were too high, I now realize. I exhale a deep breath and lay my head against the back of the couch.
Giovanni, now playing with the buttons of my shirt, says to me in a low seductive purr, “I could help you destress. Relieve some of your tension. You can use me however you want. Like a whore.”
The adrenaline still thrums through my veins, potent and strong, but I stiffen at the word that was only just used against me as a slur. “You arenota whore, and you know I don’t think of you that way.” I squeeze the back of his neck to make my point.
“I wouldn’t mind if you did. I can do for you what a whore would do, only better.”
I don’t doubt his commitment in the least, nor does my engorged cock. I motion to Rico. “Go on outside with the others. Make sure no one comes in for the next thirty minutes or so.” Rico high tails it out of the room like his ass in on fire. “As for you.” I grip Giovanni’s smooth jaw in my fingers, squeezing his cheeks tight enough to cause his lips to pucker. “Go over there, put your hands against the wall, and spread your legs.”
“What are you going to do to me, Sir?” he asks, playing coy.
“I’m going to take you up on your generous offer, Giovanni. I’m going to use you like a whore.”
A few dayslater I take Giovanni with me to the firing range. I like to go regularly, both to exercise my trigger finger and alleviate my stress. And although I don’t expect him to ever have to use one, I want to make sure he knows how to load and fire a gun.
“You ever done this before?” I ask, while fitting him with a headset to protect his ear drums.
“A few times with my grandfather. I was pretty young though. He stopped bringing me once I became suicidal.”
I nod, thinking Matthew Sr. was probably onto something. “Are you suicidal now?”
“Not at the moment.” I give him a look and he shrugs. “It comes and goes, Sir. You know that.”
“I’d prefer if it left for good, and if you ever turn my own gun on yourself, I will…” I pause, thinking on a compelling threat and coming up empty. “Please don’t do that to me.”
“I won’t. I promise. Besides, it’s way too messy.”
“Too messy? Don’t want to ruin that pretty face, huh?” He smiles and I shake my head at his conceit. “I have some rules to help you along with that, Gio, and prevent any accidents. You are not allowed to touch my gun without my explicit permission, not to clean it, not to hold it, not even to look at it.Capito?”
“What if your life was in danger?”
