The Auditor and the Mafia King

Chapter 2

Antonio’s POV

I received the certified letter this week telling me that my business was under audit from the Internal Revenue Service (IRS). Sh*t. I don’t need some stuffy cringy old man poking around my business. I wonder how much it will take to bribe some overweight middle-class dad to overlook things. My offices are here at my main nightclub in New York City. The nightclub takes up the bottom two floors, then I have an empty floor for future plans and the Blackout offices are up above on three more floors. I don’t need some government agent snooping around here. I may be the CEO of Blackout, but I still have my mafia business as well. I conduct that from my secret offices on the seventh floor and the basement. Those are off limits for everyone that I don’t personally invite in.

Being the Don of the Moretti family is something I take seriously. I own New York City. All the smaller gangs and mafia families report to me. I didn’t become the King of the Mafia in New York City by being a nice guy. I exude authority and people respect and fear me. My son, Matteo, is learning from me so I can retire in the next ten years. I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be able to enjoy some time off before I die too. Matteo is 20 right now, too young to take over from me. I figure I will retire on his 30th birthday. I’m not old by any means, I am only 45. Retiring at 55 and enjoying traveling for years will be perfect. Still young enough to f*ck any beautiful woman and God knows I have the physical body to do so. I workout every day and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

I have until next Monday to get sh*t cleared out and make sure that whatever government dumb*ss that comes in only sees what I want them to see. I don’t intend on this audit taking more than a day. I can make anyone cower in fear so fast they run out of my office with their tail between their legs. I don’t think some government fool is going to be able to withstand being in the same room as me for more than an hour. I’d even bet on it.

Picking up my phone I decided to call my consigliere Luca. He’s been my best friend since we were learning to walk and my right-hand man since I took over as Don when I was 18 when my parents were killed. Luca not only helps me with my mafia business but also helps me with my financials since he is a master’s in accounting. He thought it would be an asset to both the mafia and Blackout if we keep it all in the family, so he decided to go to college while I ran things on the daily.

“Luca,” I said, “the IRS has decided to audit Blackout and we need to come up with a plan.”

“When will they be here boss?” he asked. “Monday,” I replied.

“I’ll get on it. I’ll go through our financials and make sure everything is according to the regulations. Did they say what years they are looking at?” Luca asked.

“2018-2022 the letter states,” I answer.

“s**t. I don’t know if I will have time to look close enough through all four years in a week, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about. Other than the six months I was out from being shot everything should be legit and according to the law. They are only looking at Blackout, right? Did they ask about your personal finances?”

“The letter just states they are auditing the company. Can they add my own personal finances as well?” I ask. “Yes, they can if the auditor thinks you are hiding anything in your personal finances as well,” Luca replied.

“You know it will probably be someone we can intimidate to just look at Blackout. I wouldn’t worry about anything. Just double check the six months you were out and take a quick look at the rest if you have time,” I told Luca.

I hung up and decided to go downstairs to get a drink. Today seemed like a vodka kind of day. I’d have a drink and see that the club is ready for tonight. The VIP rooms have all been secured and cleaned. The private VIP rooms are all ready to go. I just need to double check that the main floor is in shape for tonight. The rich and famous of New York City like to party and I like to take their money.

The club not only helps provide cover for who I am, but it also helps to launder the money we get from my other nefarious business. Laundering money isn’t easy, but it has to be done to make everything seem legit. You can’t just all of a sudden have a billion dollars in your bank account without the government wondering where it came from and if you paid your taxes on it. I am a multi-billionaire. My company Blackout is a multi-billion-dollar company, but I also receive over a billion dollars from my mafia business as well.

I protect those who are under me, make sure families are taken care of in the event someone dies and also provide another set of law and order to the streets of New York City as well. Gangs can creep in and try to take over, but they are squashed quickly. I don’t allow drugs to be sold that aren’t pure, we don’t need the authorities looking further into those selling drugs than they already do. The Chinese sh*t some of the smaller gangs have been bringing in are impure and for a while there were leading to overdoses on too large of a scale. That problem had to be cleaned up, so our customers stopped dying. You can’t keep making money from dead people. And you can’t be the Mafia King if you don’t take care of those who work for you. Keeping those people loyal is what helps prevent wars and we’ve been at a level of peace for quite a while now. Peace is the ultimate goal of a Mafia Don. Don’t step on my toes and we won’t have a problem.

As I drink my Vodka I consider my plans for the week. I have a big party this Saturday planned for Blackout. I have some business to take care of before the party and then Sunday is our regular family dinner. I like to make a regular event of having a family dinner with my consigliere, underboss, capos and top soldiers. It helps to ensure I know what they are up to regularly and to keep them loyal. Loyalty is everything in the mafia. If you aren’t loyal you are a rat and rat’s get taken down to the sewer. I finished my vodka and gave the bartender a large tip with my empty glass. Time to get back to business, the IRS just ruined my week, and I can’t wait to return the favor of the unfortunate soul that comes to audit my club.