Page 42 of Mafia’s Fake Bride

The senator was not a healthy man, and he could hear it. That wasn’t good, not when the man was here to ask for a favor.

“He’s got some product coming in from Columbia, good stuff, I promise. More like the old kind we used to get you know?” The man looked at Matteo and seemed to realize his mistake. “Well, you may not remember it.”

The man gave a short laugh before he looked down at his nails, polished perfectly to a healthy shine.

Matteo sat passively in his chair, waiting for the man to get to his point.

“I’ve heard you don’t have any, ahem, product, in your casino at the Mexican place.”

“And I intend to keep it that way,” Matteo said and sat forward, his eyes narrowed with suspicion now. He knew exactly what the senator wanted now. “Forget it, it’s not going to happen.”

“Hear me out, Matteo. We’re talking about five million dollars worth of the stuff.” The senator sat forward, his chubby hands now on Matteo’s desk. Matteo didn’t like that and glared at the man’s hands until he pulled back.

“Listen, I don’t care if it’s worth 20 million, Senator. Your last nephew nearly finished me, is this one going to complete the job?”

“Strange that, isn’t it, Matteo? How he disappeared like that.” The senator’s voice was quiet now, threatening. Like he had secret knowledge that should make Matteo afraid.

“Not really,” Matteo answered with a nonchalant shrug. “The boy left our organization and ran away to newer pastures. Maybe he went down to Mexico to get away for a while?”

Matteo’s raised eyebrow of warning didn’t deter the senator. “Well, you see, Matteo, his mother doesn’t think so. And neither do I. Now, I can push for an investigation, maybe try to find her son for her, but there’s my other nephew, you see? He needs a little helping hand. Maybe think about it for a while, before you turn it down out of hand?”

The senator sat back as if he’d just won a rather challenging game of chess, his smile one of self-assured pride. Matteo wanted to punch it off his face. He had enough on his plate, right now, there was something wrong with his wife. He didn’t need this prick in here with his weak attempts at blackmail.

“Try it, Senator, and your wife, along with the media, get those pictures you seem to have forgotten about. The ones that were taken with that male prostitute with the many lines of coke he was snorting off your ass? Remember those?” Matteo leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eye.

The Senator swallowed and gibbered for a moment before he could form words. “I thought you’d burned those.”

“Some of them, Senator. Some of them. I’m not a stupid man, you understand?” Matteo’s left eyebrow rose over his eye, a threat to the senator that he needed to shut the fuck up and listen.

“Ah, yes. I see. Well, have a nice day, Matteo.” The man scuttled away as fast as his heavy frame would let him and Matteo leaned back into his chair again. That was easy enough, he thought. Now, if only he could crack what was wrong with Marie so easily.

A knock came at the door and the green eyes of his main man in New York appeared in the doorway. “Boss, we got a problem at the Green Valley house. One of the men brought in a hooker and the two of them are causing a problem.”

“Great. Just what I needed. Let’s go, Anton.” Matteo pulled his suit jacket off the back of his chair as he stood and followed Anton out of the door.

“What’s the problem?” Matteo asked as Anton drove his Audi out of the city and onto a highway.

“She’s screeching about wanting coke, it’s not even 10 am yet. But anyway, she wants it, he hasn’t got any, and we don’t provide it. So, she’d wandered around until she’s found some paint in one of the outbuildings. Splashed it all over the entranceway, and then hid in their bedroom. She won’t come out now.”

Just what he needed, a coke-head without a fix. He really needed to get home to his wife, but business came first, right now. He’d found Marie asleep on the couch this morning, tear tracks streaked down her tanned cheeks. She caught the sun, even when she wore a hat, poor thing.

What bothered him wasn’t the tan though, it was the tear tracks and the fact that she was on the couch. Was she unhappy with him? Surely, she’d say something? He worried over the matter the whole way up to Green Valley, a place a couple hours outside of the city.

He hadn’t come up with a solution by the time they sorted the matter and got the woman to come out of the room. Anton tipped a tiny bottle of coke under the door to lure her out. Not their usual policy, but at least the man had the sense to know it would be the only thing to get her out without breaking the door down.

Matteo wanted out of the drug trade completely. He never wanted to see any of it again, but he knew he couldn’t escape it. Not with his life choices. The woman left with the man finally, and Matteo waved them away. He had a maintenance guy come in to clean up the smeared paint and paint over what he could and checked the rest of the staff at the place. He reminded them all that it might be a gambling joint, but it wasn’t a drug den. He didn’t want any of his staff carrying at any time. If they were, it was grounds for dismissal.

“I don’t care how much money you can make off the clients that come in here. You bring one speck of coke, or anything else, into this place, and you’re finished. Understand me?”

They’d all nodded before he sent them all back to work.

On the way back, Matteo finally realized they’d listened to Johnny Cash the entire way up to the house. He couldn’t do two more hours of it, though. “Man, I like Johnny, but can we have something else?”

“Sure, boss. What you want? I have it all.” He tapped the expensive player in the dash of the car and Matteo tapped at buttons until he found some Beatles. He let The Long and Winding Road fill the confines of the car and finally began to relax. He loved the song, but not many people knew he was a Beatles fan.

The song played out as they merged onto the highway and Matteo began to relax. He was tired, he’d spent a lot of time at work lately, in the car, traveling between all these damned houses, and it was wearing him down. He just wanted to go home and relax with his wife. She needed him, he could see it, but he’d been so busy lately.

Tonight, he’d make an effort to get her to talk. She’d become accustomed to bottling things up, to packing them away, with her mother, but he knew some of those closets were packed full, they had to be. She needed to talk to someone and he wanted that person to be him.