"What exactly are you sending me, Ilya?" Luca asks after the pause stretches long enough to understand no explanation is forthcoming on its own.
"Oh, everything," Ilya slurs. "Every fucking little thing. The contacts, what those rebel motherfuckers want, my contact, the rendezvous... everything. You're welcome, my friend."
"I'd take it if I were him," Papa confides in Paulie. "Never trusted 'em terrorists... a fickle lot, can bolt instead of re-negotiating the deal like civilized people. Always on some bend or another."
Excellent! Luca will refuse to blunder into the war-zone, showing he has no balls, and—
Luca glances at Matteo-fucking-Scali.
Scali, who looks interested in the proceedings for the first time that evening, gives a tiny shrug. Like go ahead, cuz, we can do it.
Papa turns his watery gaze on Scali. "Matteo, isn't it? Are you married, son?"
He knows perfectly well Matteo's dying to get married. He'd have eloped if he wasn't promoted within the family. Everyone knows that! If Papa had somehow missed it before tonight, he'd figure it out by intercepting one glance Scali throws at Bryn.
"We're getting married this fall." Matteo seems even more unwilling to talk than usual, because his spidey sense must be tingling. He's a loyal man and craftier than he appears.
"Matteo's getting married..." Papa sighs theatrically, ostensibly addressing no one in particular, though it's obvious he speaks to Luca. "Men do that. Meet a girl, marry her without moping around, decide and do it, fight their own battles. Such men earn respect from the other men."
Funny enough, bratva is famous for demanding blind loyalty from men, including forbidding them marriages. Bang any number of girlfriends, but don't put a ring on it. God see, Papa acts like that's still the case sometimes... however, look at this hypocrite preaching all-American family values!
Luca makes a small gesture, and Scali melts into the background. His self-assured smile doesn't waver, but it costs him some effort. Having his manhood questioned can't be fun. He waits it out though, instead of jumping with both feet into a trap to prove his manliness. A cautious son of a bitch.
"Naturally, if you can't do it, you can't do it," Papa says derisively after the pause stretches too long for his liking, "Ilya can go then, but I figure he'd rather give the prize to some lucky girl. Hot Tatar blood and all... Don't you, Ilya?"
Go Papa! It's in our blood to go on offensive. He's pulling no punches.
Ilya flexes his massive shoulders. It's all he ever has to do in a dick measuring contest. A blond, capable giant with steel eyes and a square jaw. He can handle anything, bend anyone. If it's infuriating to me how much of a perfect mafia son Ilya is, it must irk Luca to the point of going mad.
Concern shadows the corners of Luca's mouth. Paulie has two daughters, both only slightly older than Ilya and me. One of them is married, but the other... and Ilya isn't just a perfect mafia son. He would make an equally perfect mafia son-in-law. Luca has every right to be worried.
My head's swimming so bad. Look who's being roped into a marriage with a Tangorello! The very man who told me I would marry Luca like a good girl a month from now! If the superstition is true and the whole year is going to be like New Year's Eve, then my 2019 is going to be fabulous.
One drop of tar in this barrel of honey is that Paulie says nothing, letting Luca take the lead. He doesn't plan to retire and leave the family business in Luca's hands, does he? Because then getting at Luca would be that much harder. And, for better or worse, I promised Ryan his vengeance.
YOU ARE READING
Raised by the Mafia
Sciencefiction||L.A. Lawless Serial|| ||Season 2|| What do mafia princess and an ex-FBI agent have in common? An enemy. What should they do about it? Fake-marry, of course, and rub it into his face. What could possibly go wrong...or right? Right.
