Mafia Heir by L. Steele

6

Michael

"The guys are restrained in the basement," Seb informs me as the rest of the men sprawl around in my spacious living room

I'd gotten home, swallowed some painkillers, then showered and changed clothes. Now, I stare outside at the darkness, hearing the muted roar of the waves in the distance before they crash on the shore.

Massimo leans forward in his seat, "They are getting bolder, Mika." He rubs the back of his neck, "You are lucky you escaped with your life."

"They didn’t want to kill me." I crack my neck, before turning to face my crew, "They were all unarmed."

"It was a warning," Christian muses as he rubs his chin, "but for what? What do they want from us?"

"What does anyone want from me?" I tilt my head.

"Money? Power?" Massimo counts off on his fingers, "All of the above?"

"They want you to back off from trying to consolidate your power?" Alessandro speculates. "What reason could they possibly have for that?"

"Maybe they don’t want you as the next Don?" Luca grabs a bottle of whiskey from the bar and a few glasses. He prowls over to place them on the coffee table, then pours whiskey into them. He snatches a glass, offers it to me. I accept it and he holds up his own, "To your long life, fratellone." He clinks his glass with mine, before sauntering over to take a seat. "They hadn’t reckoned on your skills with the knife." He jerks his head in my direction, "They may have tried to scare you, but I suspect its they who are more worried than ever about your growing influence now."

"That would be the assumption, now, hmm?" I take a sip of the whiskey and the liquid leaves a trail of warmth in its wake. I walk over to where the men are seated. Antonio is at his post by the door, arms crossed in front of him.

"We need to double the security on all of our businesses." I take in their features, "I anticipate they… Whoever they are, will not take what happened lying down."

"Consider it done," Luca tilts his head, "We also need to increase the security on you."

"No."

"But," Seb frowns, "you saw what happened. A few minutes without your bodyguard and they got you."

"And I fought them off."

"You may not be so lucky next time."

"I don’t intend to give them another such opportunity or a next time."

"It was uncharacteristic of you to take off like that," Luca murmurs. "You are never not careful, Mika."

I rub the back of my neck. I had been preoccupied…with thoughts of her. I had been taken in with a dream of a woman I have never met, whom I may never meet, who is, clearly, just a figment of my imagination. I need to get her out of my mind. It’s because I was distracted that things had escalated to this extent.

No, I cannot allow that to happen again. I will not let myself become vulnerable, will not give my enemies another chance to get to me. Whoever she is… She’ll have to remain in the realm of my imagination… And if I ever do meet her… Something which does not seem likely, at all... But if I do… Then, I’ll have to ensure that she does not sway me from my path. I’ll probably have to fuck her out of my system... It's the least she owes me for the hard-on that I seem to sport every time I think of her. That, and the fact that the thought of fucking anyone else does not seem palatable, at all. Fuck… I need to find a way to keep my mind occupied, until I get over this bizarre fixation with a mystery woman.

"It was a one-time mistake." I widen my stance. "One I intend not to make again."

"If you were careful, you would not have allowed them to get to you in the first place." My father’s voice booms through the space. I glance up to find him stepping through the door.

Behind him, Antonio raises a shoulder. He glances from my father to me. I nod and he falls back. The door snicks shut as the Don prowls into the room.

The muscles of my shoulders go solid and I have to force myself to draw in a breath. Another. Why the fuck is it, even after all these years, even though I am a grown man with my own path… I still have to stop myself from stalking over and strangling the man?

"Don Sovrano," I murmur, "what brings you here?"

"Can’t I come and spend a pleasant evening with my sons?" He takes in the gathered men. Luca stiffens. Massimo’s jaw hardens. Christian’s fingers tighten around his glass. Only Xander is unaffected. But then, none of us are as good-natured as Xander. He is, without a doubt, the most level-headed, most good-natured man I’ve ever come across.

All of us come from the same parents, and except for what my father had put me through, we brothers had been exposed to a similar set of circumstances; yet each of us had grown up to be different men. We have different personalities, and disparate tastes when it comes to women, or to the kinds of kinks that we prefer. And that includes Xander… Though among all of us, he, perhaps, holds the least hatred toward our father. And that’s only because of the kind of man he is. He never holds a grudge, probably because he channels all of his angst into his art, living true to his heart and mind, unaffected by others and able to live life as he wants.

Now, he rises from his seat and walks over to our father. At six-feet three-inches, Xander towers over our father. Not that I’d ever call the Don frail. At seventy, he still wields his power like a cloak that he’ll take with him to his grave when he dies.

"Padre," he kisses our father on both cheeks, "how wonderful of you to drop by."

"Sandro," our father grips his shoulder, "you are looking well. Being part of the Mafia suits you."

Xander tilts his head. "Now, Father," he reminds him, "you and I both know, I am here only because this allows me an outlet to paint to my heart’s content."

"And what masterpieces they are." Christian rises to his feet, "If it weren’t for Xander’s genius, we’d never be able to use his growing fame in the art world to identify potential new targets we could kidnap and hold for ransom."

"In return for their safety, we get access to influence and to power, which we use infiltrate governments and those in higher echelons of power. Yeah, yeah." The Don scoffs, "Save it, son, I didn’t come here for a lesson in how to run my own business."

Christian’s shoulders stiffen. He opens his mouth to retort, but I hold up my hand.

"Enough, Christian," I murmur, "I believe our father is here with an agenda of his own tonight."

The Don’s lips curve in a semblance of a smile. Those dark eyes hold mine in a challenge, a look with which I am all too familiar. Perhaps it’s because I am too much like him, a trait I can do nothing to rectify, but which I use to my advantage at every possible opportunity—that I can read his moves as if they were my own.

"Very good." His grin widens, "Let’s get down to business then." He glances about the room, "Out, all of you."

"Wait, what?" Sebastian protests, "If it’s about business, we need to be involved in it too."

"I came here to talk to the Capo."

"I thought you came here to meet your sons."

"And I have." He jerks his chin, "Out, boys."

Luca’s jaw hardens. He glances at my father, then turns to me. "You gonna be okay, Mika?" he asks in a low voice.

At my nod, he turns and stalks out, followed by Christian, Xander and Massimo. Sebastian seems like he is about to protest again.

"Leave, Seb," I murmur. "You heard the Don."

He frowns, then tilts his head. "Fine, but you’d better catch us up later."

"I’ll do what I think is right." I lower my chin, "Now go."