Long Live the King (An Italian Mafia Romance Duet #2) by Ws Greer Read Free Book Online Page A

Lumiere.”
    “Okay, you’ll be okay to get home after I drop you off, or you want me to wait for you?”
    “Don’t wait for me,” he answers, his mood completely reversed. “This shit is gonna require my full attention.”

Dominic
    I pull the doors to the conference room apart and find Frankie, Tommy, Jimmy, Sal, and John all standing there waiting for me. Their immediate reaction seems to be relief from my arrival, as if they’ve encountered some sort of monster that only I can scare away. I’m already annoyed that I had to be pulled away from Alannah because of this bullshit, but seeing their anxious faces really irks me.
    I fight back the urge to call them all pussies as I greet them with our customary hugs and walk over to the table, taking a seat in my red leather chair. After I’m seated, the rest of my roundtable of gangsters takes their seats as I light up the cigar that was already waiting for me in a marble ashtray. I light it up, blow out a white pillow of smoke towards the ceiling, and exhale.
    “Okay, la mia famiglia , somebody tell me what the hell happened tonight,” I begin, resting my arms on the glass table.
    Frankie clears his throat before speaking.
    “We’ve got a problem, Dominic,” he starts. “Jimmy’s crew stopped the Big Vic truck on the highway tonight. The driver pulled a gun again, but they beat the shit out him and sent him running off, leaving his truck behind. When they opened up the trailer on the back, they saw it was a refrigerator truck full of boxes. Some of the boxes had frozen meat inside, and some of them held frozen money.”
    “Frozen money.” I reply, unsure of if I’m asking a question of just restating the fact.
    “Yeah,” Jimmy chimes in. “As it turns out, Big Vic’s is a meat packing place up in Chicago.”
    When I hear the word Chicago, I feel the urge to rub my forehead from instant headache.
    “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
    “Yeah. Like I said, we’ve got a problem, because Big Vic’s is owned by Victor Fronzo,” Frankie informs me, just like I was knew he would. I let out a loud sigh and let my head fall backwards onto the seat cushion.
    So, here’s how this works. Everyone knows the Original Five Families in New York, but what most people don’t know is that La Cosa Nostra is everywhere. We’ve got families in California, Las Vegas, New Jersey, St. Louis, and of course, Chicago—and that isn’t even all of them. The Family in Chicago is called the Chicago Outfit, and in the rare occasion that the Commission gets together in New York, the entire Midwest is represented by the boss of the Chicago Outfit, Victor Fronzo.
    Victor is seventy years old, and probably the most ruthless boss left in Our Thing. See, everyone else has been replaced by younger bosses, but not Victor. He’s managed to avoid trouble and jail time better than anyone in the history of La Cosa Nostra, and his family is the most loyal I’ve ever heard of. They do not go against Victor, and they will brutally murder anyone who disrespects his name. My father once told me a story about how Victor’s consigliere, Giovanni Cirillo, cut a guy’s dick off for getting drunk and making a pass at Victor’s daughter. Under Victor’s orders, Giovanni cut the guy’s dick into ten pieces—he shoved one piece up the guy’s ass, placed one piece in each of his hands, and then shoved the rest into his mouth, all before he actually killed the guy by slitting his throat. Giovanni is just as ruthless as his boss, and together, they can be a huge fucking thorn in anybody’s side.
    Victor Fronzo is old school, and he doesn’t like this new style Our Thing seems to have with the younger bosses. He’s the last of a dying breed, and crossing him means imminent death. The fact that he visits with the Commission face to face gives him a lot of swaying power when it comes to decisions the Commission makes. So basically, if you’re a made guy and Victor wants you dead, he’ll