The Mafia Saved Me [SAMPLE BOOK]

Chapter 11 [SAMPLE]

POV Leo

The fake mustache and black wig have transformed me into Luigi, or as close to him as possible.

There's an irritation forming around my mouth from the synthetic fibers of the mustache. My patience thins by the second, but I force down my annoyance and continue my strides through the hotel.

Adriano's men are at every turn.

From beside me, Luca is grooming his fake beard and joking around, saying he looks like Abraham Lincoln. Which doesn't make sense because Abraham Lincoln wasn't as white as his pale ass, and he didn't have blue eyes.

Luca's ridiculous comparison receives an eye roll from me, and from beside him, Kaden punches him on the shoulder, telling him to shut up. I stiffen when Adriano's men give us questioning looks.

I glance at the two idiots beside me, warning them to knock it off. They separate without another word.

Kaden looks visibly annoyed as he runs his fingers through his black hair. The constant scowl remains on his lips while his steel eyes scan the area for any threats.

Although a black suit covers his body, you can still see the tattoos crawling at the base of his neck and peeking through the sleeves of his suit. He's removed the piercings on his bottom lip, right eyebrow, and nose to conceal his identity.

To add to his unapproachableness, Kaden looks like an athlete with broad shoulders and a height about as tall as my six-seven-foot self. He's an image of a man you don't want to cross.

My and Kaden's height, next to Luca's six-three-foot self, makes our friend look like a child.

Luca doesn't fit the image of a capo for a mafia. He resembled more of a college student trying to figure out his life, who took to dying his hair in weird colors to cope with an existential crisis. Which works perfectly in keeping him on the down low from the law.

We disperse, and I take a right toward the elevators, which are only available to those with VIP cards.

Luca and Kaden are to cover me while I'm inside scouting the auction, and much to my displeasure, I need to place a bet to get the location of where they take the girls.

By the elevator stands a man in an all-black tuxedo. He stiffens at seeing me until I hand him the VIP card.

The identification photo on the back is grainy and faded.

"Luigi Vitale?" he asks, moving his gaze from me to the picture, his eyes squinting, unable to make out Luigi's features.

"Yes." This is enough confirmation for him to scan the card over the panel near the elevator.

"This way." He ushers me into the elevator, following behind me.

"Any good girls today?" I ask, when he looks at me suspiciously, and the words are bitter in my mouth.