Married to the mafia King

The house was magnificent.

Crystal chandeliers in the giant foyer…

A beautiful staircase…

Artwork from Renaissance masters lining the walls…

But a tour had to wait, because they all wanted to hear what my father had to say.

We walked into a luxurious parlor on the first floor.

I sat between Adriano and my father on a plush couch. Though I held my father’s hand to give him emotional support, I got my own support from Adriano as I snuggled against him.

There was a charcuterie platter on a coffee table, and we snacked on gourmet cheeses, cured meat, and grapes from the estate’s vineyards. The men drank grappa, the traditional Italian brandy made from grapes. I asked for a glass of white wine.

However, I noticed that Alessandra stuck to sparkling water.

After Adriano said some things about the cop he’d tied up, all eyes turned to my father.

After a halting start, Papa repeated everything he told Adriano about hiding in plain sight within the Florence judicial system.

Niccolo watched him like a hawk and asked most of the questions.

“What did you discover that put you in danger?” he asked.

“There were new payments the Agrellas authorized,” my father explained. “New arrivals from out of town 15 policemen.”

“Where were these newcomers from?”

“Venice, Rome, Naples, Sicily, and Milan.”

All of the Rosolini brothers looked shocked.

Niccolo collapsed back in his chair. “Shit…”

“What?” Alessandra asked.

“Those are the cities of the most powerful families in the Cosa Nostra.”

“So?”

“So it suggests something… ominous.” Niccolo looked at my father. “Was that the conclusion you drew?”

“I knew something was odd,” my father agreed. “Unfortunately, I made the mistake of asking my handler about it.”

“Your handler?”

“A man named Sergio Pasquarelli,” my father said, then muttered under his breath, “May he rot in hell.”

“Don’t worry, he’s already there,” Adriano said drily.

“…what?” my father asked, shocked.

“Papa,” I said gently, “we walked in on Sergio in our apartment. He was holding a gun to Mama’s head.”

My father’s face went white as a sheet. “What?”

“Adriano saved her. And… well…”

“Sergio’s no longer with us,” Adriano said.

My father stared at Adriano for a second… then reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “For saving my daughter and my wife.”

“Of course,” Adriano said as he patted my father’s hand kindly.

My father finally let go, but he was obviously shaken.

“Have a drink,” Niccolo said as he pushed a crystal glass across the table.

Papa took a gulp of the liquor. “Sometimes I forget what beasts the Agrellas are…”

“Were,” Niccolo said.

My father looked confused. “What?”

Niccolo looked over at Adriano in exasperation. “Did you not tell him anything?”

“I was a little busy finding out information from him,” Adriano snapped.

Niccolo turned back to my father. “Last night, the entire Agrella family was murdered Dominic, Carmine, and Bautiste. All their capos were killed, as well. The entire organization was basically leveled within hours.”

My father’s mouth dropped open. “Then… he does exist…”

“Who?”

“Mezzasalma,” my father whispered.

Mezzasalma was an unusual last name. Not only because it was somewhat rare, but because of what it literally meant:

Half corpse.

“Who is he?” Dario asked my father.

“When I asked Sergio why so many cops were being transferred in from other cities, he got this frightened expression. Ordinarily, Sergio was a cocky bastard but he looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“He told at me to mind my own business unless I wanted a bullet in the back of my head.

“I went into the next room to leave when I heard him speak to one of his thugs. I was curious, so I listened in.

“I heard him say, ‘Mezzasalma will be here in a week.’

“The other guy cursed.

“And then Sergio said, ‘Don Agrella should know better never invite a vampire into your house.’

“I heard footsteps coming towards me, so I hurried out.

“From what Sergio said, I can only assume Mezzasalma is behind the Agrellas’ deaths.”

Adriano spoke up. “Before I shot him, this guy Sergio was saying all sorts of weird shit. Like how I couldn’t keep him safe from the devil, and that he’d kill Sergio if he talked.”

“That was Mezzasalma,” my father said.

Niccolo frowned. “I don’t understand. You overheard something about this man Mezzasalma, but that doesn’t explain why you went into hiding.”

My father looked shamefaced. “The way the Agrellas kept me under their thumb was… I have a gambling problem. I’d get stressed… go out for a drink… and the next thing I knew, I’d be betting on blackjack. I’d eventually lose… so I’d ask for a line of credit.”

“And the Agrellas would give it to you,” Niccolo said sympathetically.

“Yes. I never wanted to be part of their organization… but I always owed them money. And the only way I could pay it off was to do whatever they wanted.

“Anyway… I fell off the wagon a couple of weeks ago. I got drunk and lost another six grand. I was terrified… I knew I’d never get out from under them… and then Sergio told me that if I did one last job, they’d call it even.”

“Really,” Niccolo said, obviously shocked.

“Yes,” my father said with a wry smile. “Which was an immediate red flag.

“Sergio gave me a briefcase full of sealed envelopes and a list of names the 15 cops that had transferred in. I was supposed to give an envelope to each cop and tell him, ‘Slow walk it on Friday night.'”

It wasn’t lost on any of us that Friday night was the massacre at the hotel.

“I was supposed to distribute the envelopes by Friday afternoon… in the order that they appeared on the list… and I was supposed to wait for them to check their envelope and not leave until they said I could go. If I did all that, the Agrellas would cancel my debt.

“This was after I’d overheard Sergio talking about Mezzasalma, by the way.

“Worried that I was walking into some sort of trap, I opened the envelope for the last cop on the list. Inside I found 10, 000 euros and a slip of paper that said, ‘Take care of the messenger.'” My father grimaced. “I doubted very seriously that it meant, ‘Tip him.'”

I gasped especially given my own history with the Agrellas hiring me to do a suicide job.

“What did you do?” Niccolo asked.

“I couldn’t deliver the envelopes to the cops that would have been a death sentence. But I couldn’t keep the money, either. That would have meant a slower, more painful death.

“So I stashed the briefcase in a locker at a local gym and used a combination lock I owned.

“Friday morning, I texted Sergio that I hadn’t been able to deliver the packages but that they were all at the gym. I gave him the locker number and the combination. He started calling me back immediately, but I shut my phone off.” Papa looked at me mournfully. “I guess that’s when he started making your life miserable.”

I still hadn’t told my father about agreeing to dress as an escort. I didn’t feel like this was the best time so I just smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Out of curiosity,” Adriano asked, “what was the name of the last cop on the list the one who was supposed to ‘take care of’ you?”

“A fellow named Moretti.”

“You did the right thing, then. That was the asshole who tried to kill me tonight.”

My father stared at Adriano. “Seriously?”

“Yes. You dodged a bullet literally.”

My father’s hand trembled as he took another gulp of liquor.

“I think that’s enough questions for Signor Lettieri tonight,” Alessandra announced. “It’s been a difficult couple of days.”

Niccolo frowned. “But ”

“Dario?” Alessandra said with a smile.

Dario chuckled. “We can pick this back up tomorrow.”

Niccolo gave Alessandra a look of mock disapproval. “No fair.”

“What good is it to be married to a don if I can’t pull rank once in a while?” she teased him.

Niccolo rolled his eyes, then turned to my father. “Go on up to your wife and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll probably have more questions for you tomorrow.”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

My father nodded. “Alright…”

“Excellent. Bianca, I can have a servant show you to your room ”

“I’ll handle it,” Adriano interrupted.

My heart fluttered a tiny bit.

And other parts of my body, too.

Niccolo played it cool, though I’m sure he knew what was up.

“Of course. Her parents are in the blue room on the third floor, but we have Bianca set up in the green room on the second.”

My father, bless his heart, had had so much grappa and bad news that he was completely out of it.

He didn’t register any of the chatter about the guest rooms…

So I doubt he realized I wouldn’t be spending the night alone.

“Goodnight, Papa,” I said as I kissed him on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Paperotta,” he whispered, then followed a servant who led him to Mama’s room.