The Mafia Contract Series

ALESSANDRO

My gun is heavy against my heart, reminding me what’s at stake. As I observe the two new diners heading into the restaurant, it’s safe in the knowledge I’m concealed from view. I pay attention to the woman eagerly, searching her expression, wondering if she knows how serious this is.

I’m guessing she must be in her sixties, but you would never guess. Apparently, surgery has been kind to her because every inch of skin appears to have been nipped and tucked into place, defying nature’s best intentions.

Portia Symmons is a fine-looking woman, and the fact my grandfather’s hand is placed on the small of her back signifies an ownership and an intimacy that sickens me.

I am trying to remember the last time he escorted my grandmother anywhere. I’m guessing his nights are spent with different company and Nonna is probably happy to be off the hook.

It’s well known my grandfather likes the women. He’s an Italian Stallion of the greediest kind.

The way Portia smiles up at him and flutters her eyelashes tells me she adores him, and I fight back a grin because the old man is a player and I suppose he always will be.

I’m pretty certain the sparkling diamond around her neck would be a gift from him, and I’m guessing the fake tits are also a well-earned reward.

I watch with interest as they take their seats facing the door so they can observe the man of the hour and his soon to be widow walk on stage.

The maitre d fusses over my grandfather and Portia as if they are visiting royalty and as soon as he heads off to bring their drinks, I endure them fawning over each other like teenagers on a date after the game.

All the time my mind is wired when I think about what happens next. Finally, I will be in the same room, breathing the same oxygen as the woman I love, and I’m not sure how I’ll deal with that.

Twenty minutes pass and I can tell my grandfather is getting angrier by the second. He is the most impatient man I know and even the hand job Portia gave him under the table hasn’t mellowed his mood.

Then the door opens, and I swear my heart almost gives out on me when Massimo Delauren and Winter walk into the packed room.

Nothing prepares me for seeing her in the flesh for the first time in two years. It’s as if the years melt away and I’m seeing her walking from Principal Stoner’s office. I don’t do feelings and certainly never emotion, but watching her slight body move through the restaurant, it’s a direct hit straight to my heart.

I can’t tear my eyes from her.

Nobody else matters as I stare hungrily at a woman that has occupied my dreams for the past two years.

I love her.

It happened so fast and hard it took me a while to understand what that means. I will do anything for her, and it takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to jump up and go to her, tearing her hand from the man who deserves to die in the most horrific way.

I’m not the only one who can’t tear their eyes from the scene and as Massimo holds her hand and leads her through the tables like the most precious bone china, I barely manage to conceal my rage when I see the purple bruise that covers half of her face. The marks on her neck almost make me lose my mind, but it’s the fear in her once sparkling eyes that sends me over the edge.

Despite everything, though, my soul weeps bitter tears for the woman I love, for the life she has endured since she left my side and for the pain she must suffer daily because of him.

I can’t even look at him because one second of my attention away from Winter is a second wasted and I drink in every drop of her features and feast on a dish I have craved for so long it hurts.

The fact they can’t see me provides me with a golden opportunity and I stare so hard she must surely feel it from where she’s standing.

She looks so frail, so battered, and so weary. Not the effortless, cold beauty my friends described. There is no love in the gaze that lingers on her face when she turns to her husband. She is a prisoner of circumstance and I intend on blasting the door wide open and so I bite back my anger and gain strength from her weakness. I feed off it to use against the man she stands beside, and I make a vow that he dies today in the most painful way I can make happen.

Winter

I’m not sure how I can even walk. My legs are shaking so much. The restaurant is packed, and I don’t miss the nervous glances thrown my way as we pass through the tables. They must be horrified by my appearance because it looks as if I’ve been in a car wreck. I’m certain of that, and I wonder why Massimo flipped the way he did. There must be a reason for it, there always is, and yet why would he want these people to see me this way?

We take our seats and I stare at a beautiful, graceful woman who looks at me with a shocked smile. The gentleman beside her has a familiar appearance that I can’t place, and he is staring at me with a curious fascination that’s a little unnerving.

I don’t miss the frostiness between him and Massimo, who says tightly, “Don Majerio. I wasn’t aware you knew Portia.”

The name jumps out and hits me far harder than Massimo did.

Majerio.

Alessandro Majerio, the beast I fell in love with. Frankie’s father and the man I left my heart to keep forever.

As I stare at the gentleman who bears the same name, it only reinforces the similarity. Is this his father, grandfather, an uncle perhaps? The similarities are breath-taking and my heart flutters and then starts galloping as his husky drawl enters the conversation.

“Don Delauren. It’s been many years.”

“You never answered my question.” Massimo snaps, and the hint of amusement in Don Majerio’s face makes me curious.

He turns to Portia and rests his arm along the back of her chair and says lazily, “Portia is a good friend of mine, too.”

“Friends with benefits, I’m guessing.” Massimo fires back and I can tell he’s nervous just from the tapping of his foot under the table.

Massimo clicks his fingers and the waiter heads over as if he’s running the 100m and Massimo says sulkily, “A bottle of your finest vintage champagne. It appears we have a celebration on our hands.”

“We do?”

Don Majerio arches his brow and Massimo growls, “Yes, today we celebrate friendship and new beginnings.”

I turn my attention to Portia, who is looking mighty uncomfortable, and she grabs her glass of water and almost drains it entirely, which Massimo seizes on immediately.

“You appear nervous, Portia. Is there a reason for that?”

His cool tone obviously registers with her, and she says shakily, “No, it’s just, well, I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted.”

“I don’t believe you.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Her eyes widen as Massimo snarls, “In fact, I’m making an educated guess that you set this whole thing up, Portia.”

She looks startled and moves back a little as if to distance herself, causing her guest to lean forward and say with an undercurrent of danger, “Back off Massimo. Portia has nothing to do with this.”

Massimo merely laughs out loud and waves around him. “She may not, but it’s obvious you do.”

Shaking his head, he gestures at the silent tables. “Did you really believe I would be foolish enough to walk into your trap, Don Majerio?”

He says nothing and Massimo starts rocking in his seat, laughing like a clown.

“You will never beat me. Nobody will ever beat me because I am invincible.”

He stops and grabs my hair and twists it cruelly and snarls, “Look at my wife. I control every part of her. She depends on me and can’t bear to be without me. Isn’t that right, my darling?”

He nods my head for me and the distaste in Don Majerio’s eyes makes my heart sink. He is no match for Massimo. He must know he is about to face death and lose the fight because one by one, every man in the restaurant stands and takes out their guns.

Massimo laughs like a maniac and, still holding my hair, snarls, “You’ve had a good run, Don Majerio but the race is over.”

He glares at Portia and snarls, “I have a particular fate waiting for you, my friend. Tell her, Winter, tell her how merciless I am when faced with betrayal.”

The tears course down my face as I fight the pain and just gasp, “He’s merciless.”

Massimo laughs like a hyena and then something happens that takes us all by surprise as the door opens and two new diners enter the room. Portia and Don Majerio glance past us, and a small smile breaks out across the Don’s face, and he smirks as he says to Massimo, “It appears we have a visitor.”

Dropping me like a hot poker, Massimo turns, and I see his expression change as he stares at the two people who are heading toward us. My own mouth drops as a familiar face reveals itself and I whisper, “Ivan.”

The tears fall unchecked because who cares about appearances now when I see the Savage who protected me so well at Rockwell academy heading into the restaurant, holding the hand of the woman from the painting. Imogen. Massimo’s wife.

The chair falls back as he stands and stumbles toward her with a disbelieving cry.

“Imogen, my darling.”

The whole restaurant stills as he cries, “Where have you been? I waited for you.”

He falters a little and shakes his head as if he’s seeing a ghost, and I suppose in his mad mind, he is.

“Darling, you must have been so afraid. Were you lost? Did you ache for me as I have ached for you? We have so much to catch up on. Tell me the names of the people responsible for keeping me from you, and I will ensure their long and painful death. You can help me; we will be a team again. Where’s the baby?”

He looks around wildly and then screams, “WHERE’S THE BABY? WHO TOOK OUR BABY?”

He howls like an animal in pain, and I don’t believe one person here expected to see this sight today. The real Massimo Delauren in all his chaotic glory. The mask has slipped and shattered to the ground as he struggles to separate the past from the present.

The expression on the girl’s face is terror personified as she holds on tightly to Ivan’s hand, who is staring at Massimo with all the fury of Satan himself. As Massimo lurches forward, Ivan steps in front of her and snarls, “Back off Massimo.”

Massimo stops as if stunned and his voice breaks a little. “Who are you? Why are you holding my wife’s hand?”

He turns to his soldiers and shrieks, “Kill him!”

He looks wildly around and stares in disbelief as every last soldier lowers their guns and he can be in no doubt of their intentions as they stare at him with hate and disgust.

“What are you waiting for? Kill the bastard! Kill them all. I order you!”

The silence is palpable as Massimo stares in confusion around him and then his eyes flick back to the woman he believes is his dead wife. The expression on his face is one of pain, confusion, and hope. He has so much love and need in his eyes as he stares at the woman he loved before she died so cruelly, and witnessing the uncertainty in his daughter’s expression makes my heart break for her. Just picturing her fate lying beside her mother in perpetuity fills my soul with pain and then, from out of nowhere, a voice from the past whispers in my ear and I hear his words as clear as the day I heard them.

“Learn how to survive and always look for their weakness because there always is one. Then use that to your advantage to get what you want. The element of surprise is a powerful weapon, and I’m guessing you can learn to wield it where it will do the most damage.”

Now is that time. My opportune moment because Massimo can’t tear his eyes away from the woman I must save. I steal a furtive glance around me and it’s as if the packed restaurant is frozen in time as they witness a scene play out that is so unbelievable it doesn’t seem real.

I note that Massimo’s men’s guns are lowered as they view something they would never have believed, and Portia is staring in disbelief at the woman who is the spitting image of her mother. Don Majerio appears as stunned as the rest of us and nobody gives me a second glance as I reach into Massimo’s jacket that he hung on the back of his chair.

I hold my breath as the seconds tick down to the end of life as I know it and my heart races as my fingers close around the metal box that contains the deadliest injection.

My hands shake as I attempt to remove it under the cover of the table, and when I feel the plastic syringe in my hand, I relish the sense of power at my disposal.

Massimo continues to stare at his daughter in disbelief as she cowers behind her husband. Ivan, meanwhile, is preparing to tear Massimo limb from limb if he has to.

Carefully, I edge slowly toward him and as I reach his side, he doesn’t even see me and without any hesitation, I plunge the needle deep into the side of his neck.

As I release the steady stream of poison into his bloodstream, his scream tears the city apart and all around us the spectators stand frozen in shock as he stumbles and reaches out, grabbing me roughly by the shoulders.

“What have you done? You stupid bitch, you’ll pay dearly for this!”

His piercing scream bounces off the walls and before anyone can react to what’s happening, he falls toward me. I have no time to step aside and it’s as if the whole scene is in slow motion as Massimo’s giant frame crashes against me, forcing me back and as we fall to the ground as one, a glancing blow on the back of my head fills my final breath with pure agony.