Saved by the Mafia

Darling Dad

“Anyway, her dad is pretty much useless. A felon. Two domestic abuse charges. One for trespassing. From what I can see, he got custody of her when her mother passed and has had her ever since. Lots of disturbance calls to the local police from the neighbors.”

I started at Peter, my insides boiling hot and angry. “Who were the victims in the domestics?”

Peter dropped a paper on my desk. “Well, check this out. It looks like the first one was her mother, probably sixteen years ago. But this last one is recent. Like.. hasn’t even made it on a court docket yet. He was locked up a week ago for showing up at her job and knocking her around. He made bail just a few hours later.”

A week ago. I imagined the pretty blonde I’d met with more bruises on her face, and it just made me want to rock his s**t with my own bare fists.

Peter pursed his lips. “Is she someone we need to be watching out for? A love interest of Rinaldi’s boy? I’m confused as to why this is important, Slater.”

“Just do your f*****g job, Peter,” I lashed out. “I don’t pay you to ask me a million goddamn questions.”

“Understood,” Peter said cooly. “Is that all you needed?”

I wasn’t done yet. “What does he do for a living, Peter?”

Peter shrugged. “Not much, unless he’s working under the table somewhere. He gets a check from the Veteran’s Association once a month. Not much to it though. Other than that, I didn’t see a work history for the past 10 years, at least.”

Living off of his daughter. How big of him. “I see.”

“I looked into the girl while I was at it,” Peter continued, thorough as usual. “She’s spotless. No record. Graduated with honors. She tried to sign up for classes at the community college earlier this year, but was dropped from her classes due to non-payment. She works as a waitress at a somewhat local steakhouse. She even did some volunteer work in the community.”

I closed my eyes. Of course she was. I knew the second I saw her that she was an Angel. What would she get arrested for— stealing flowers? I snorted out loud. My hope that maybe Peter would tell me something undesirable about her had failed me.

“Any other immediate family?” I pressed further, rubbing my temples.

He shook his head. “Nah, just the two of them. Do you just want me to leave this whole file here?”

Fucking Christ. Of course I didn’t. What I wanted to tell Peter to do was to go find her useless f*****g dad and bring him to me. I’d give him a fair chance. I’d even let the fucker tape up his knuckles if he wanted a fair fight, just so I could get a chance to knock his teeth in. But I couldn’t do that. The girl didn’t even know me. I mean, she knew of me, sure, but to her I was a stranger. At this point, I was being stalkerish. The fact that I had so much information about her when she had none about me other than rumors— even I knew it was wrong.

I’d seen situations like this a thousand times before and never batted an eye. I’d never been phased by it. I’d watched men get blown to pieces. I’d killed people for almost no reason, and I’d felt no remorse doing it, because it was right to do for my family and the mafia.

So why could I see all of that with no effect, but the thought of some waste of space leaving bruises on Evelyn Adair made me sick?

I decided then. I had a meeting coming up with my executives at the casino. I’d see her one more time. Maybe I could figure out what it was that gave her permanent residency in my head.

“My meeting with Tori and Gustav,” I looked up at Peter. “Move it to Quinn’s Steakhouse.”

Peter blanched, collected himself quickly, and raised an eyebrow. “Because the girl works there? It’s on the other side of town, Slater—“

Before Peter could react, I’d reached down to pull my knife out of my boot and threw it in his direction, the blade moving as fast as a dart. It landed in the back of the chair by his left shoulder, burying down in the wood, just inches from his chest.

Peter sucked in a deep breath as he glanced over at the knife. He stared at it, making no move to turn back to look at me. His face paled.

My voice was quiet and deadly when I spoke again as anger at being questioned raced through my veins.

“You’ve been with me a long time now, Peter,” I spoke slowly. “It seems you have forgotten who you work for, since you have no f*****g problem questioning my decisions. It makes me wonder if you really are loyal to my family, or if you are in this for selfish reasons.”

I could see the panic in his face in response to my words. The Lucci’s took care of those who took care of them— but my father’s ultimate rule for anyone looking to get into bed with my family.. ‘Be loyal to the name, not the wealth it holds”.

No matter how I felt, I had to keep up traditions and boundaries or the entire f*****g thing would fall apart. What my father did— it worked, whether anybody liked it or not.

Peter’s brown eyes— the same one that always seemed to remind me of his s**t-bag of a father— met mine head on.

“I am not my father’s son, Slater,” he said evenly. “My loyalty is to the Lucci family.”

I knew he wasn’t anything like Ruben— I could see it in the way he held himself. Peter’s father was one of the biggest betrayals my family had ever seen. He’d played my father like a fiddle— and when my father killed him, he’d taken Peter in. Not as a show of mercy, like most might think— but to show Ruben’s family that he would turn his only son into a henchman for the Lucci family. It was my father’s way of taking revenge even after Ruben’s death.

“You’d do well to remember that, Peter,” I nodded. “Move the meeting. Call the steakhouse, get her schedule, and make a reservation. Make it clear that I want her to serve my table.”

Peter bowed his head slightly. “Yes, Slater. Should I inform Gustav and Tori?”

I nodded, leaning back in my chair and propping my boots up on my desk. “Yes. You can go now.”

Peter sauntered out of the room, and the splitting headache I felt from the choices I was making was making me pissed off.

What the f**k was I doing?