The kingpin's obsession: Lena

8

I crossed the narrow street, the sun beating down against my back, and headed toward a small stand tucked beneath an ivy-draped wall. It wasn’t hard to not notice the eyes that followed me from the shadows. But this was my honeymoon. I already promised Lorenzo I wouldn’t bring work with me for Lena’s sake, but what would I do when work came for me instead?

The smell of roasted almonds and vanilla clung to the breeze as I approached a wily old looking man who was turning something in a steel basin, whistling an old tune to himself.

“Due galletoe, per favore,” I told him. “Vaniglia per ora.”

He nodded and began scooping without a word. I watched the motion of his hands, as I took out my wallet, it had all my business cards, ATM’s and a few bank notes. And in a small pocket with a transparent film over it was a picture of my mother. I made a mental note to keep it with me all the time.

I wasn’t like one of those religious extremist who believed in ghosts, demons or the afterlife, or any bullshit like that. Hell was just an imaginary concept humans came up with to scare bad people into thinking there’s an afterlife of pain and punishment, and good people go to heaven. A place of eternal peace and happiness. But this world was already hell, people did bad things, I didn’t need all that s**t to know bad things happened to bad people. But if there were really a heaven, the pearly gates? I knew mama was there.

“What flavour for the second one, young man?” The old man’s voice broke my thoughts and I looked away from the picture.

I liked Vanilla. Plain and Simple.

But… what did Lena like? Would she prefer the fruit flavors? or was she a chocolate girl?

Hell, what was her favorite color?

I rubbed the back of my neck as all these thoughts came to my head.

After being initiated into the role of Don, things like that didn’t matter. Pointless and meaningless. It was all about guns, blood, and glory. Not hugs and sunshine. But lena was my sunshine. Even while being utterly consumed by her. I could list the number of ways her body responded to my touch, how her lips trembled when she was trying not to laugh, or the exact sound she made when I pressed into her softest spots. But I didn’t know if she preferred coffee over tea. If she liked cats or dogs. Movie, Music, food, guilty pleasures. Things like that

I might not be as invincible as people think. A few months ago, I almost died, but the thought of never seeing her or my child scared me more than the idea of death or the afterlife.

“Vincenzooo?”

Call it insticts, or whatever, but the second I heard that oily voice., I reached for my gun, but realized I didn’t have it on me. I promised Lorenzo I’d leave work back in New York and enjoy my time of in years and focus on my bride. Or at least that had been the plan…until.

“Hah! Vincenzo! Caio!” the voice drew nearer, laughing.

I turned slightly, to see the last person I expected to meet out here today. Sullivan Rune.

Fottuto bastardo.

His family, the Rune’s used to run a few lines out of Thessaloniki, small-time compared to my family, but always had the mouth of someone who thought he mattered more than he did. He and I went way back. Way, way back, back when we cared about useless crap like forts.

Tall, maybe a few heads shorter than me, lean, but strong. He had blonde hair, and bright red eyes and a smile like the devils. I always thought of him as a vampire, I still do. Blood sucking, backstabbing, motherfuc-

“Hah, careful now, your blood lust is dripping all over the gelato.”

“Rune.” I finally spoke, acknowledging his presence.

Rune spread his arms in greeting, a crooked grin plastered across his pale face as if we were all buddy-buddy now. “Amico mio! It’s really you, huh? It’s been years!”

“Like wise.” I nodded once, stiff and measured.

He ignored my cold tone and came closer anyway, adjusting the lapels of his expensive linen jacket. I sized him up. Everything from the clothes on his back to the shoes on his feet were practically name brands. “Heard you roll with the Greco’s now.” I sneered, the corner of my nose crinkling in distaste, but that didn’t stop him smiling. “Things must be going well for you.” I added.

“Ha. Of course, but…I don’t roll with them again. Found something better.” he adjusted the suit as if to emphasis that.

“And word is,” he said, bringing his tone down a bit, “you got married.”

I raised a brow. “News spreads fast.”

“But of course! The Kingpin of New York finally settling down? Dio mio, it’s enough to shake the Mediterranean.” He laughed. “Bet the ladies were disappointed, eh? All those long-legged models and heiresses…” He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “You always had your pick.”

I didn’t respond. Just took the finished cup of vanilla from the old man and paid him.

"Cioccolato, per ora.” I told the old man and he went to work on the second one.

Rune, didn’t take the hint though. “Come on Vince. Where is she? The mysterious woman who tamed Vincenzo Maranzano?”

My jaw ticked. I didn’t like the way he said that. Tamed. Like I was some beast chained by a pretty face. Lena wasn’t a chain. She was a choice.

“Somewhere,” I said coolly. “And I suggest you keep that tongue of yours respectful, Sullivan. You know how bad I am at forgiving things.”

His grin faltered for a second. Just a flicker.

Then he laughed it off, hands raised in mock surrender. “Ah, come on, I meant nothing by it. Just surprised, is all. Some people thought you’d die a bachelor. Myself included.”

“Those people are idiots,” I said flatly.

He blinked. I stepped closer.

“You see me walking around with a wedding ring, you don’t come sniffing like a dog looking for scraps. You nod. You say congratulations, and you get the f**k out of my space.”

His smiled dropped, and his eyes darkened, matching the intensity in mine. “Congratulations,” he muttered.

I smiled—cold, sharp.

“Grazie.”

“Your Gelato.” the old man handed me the second cup and I walked past him without another word. But he stopped me. “Milano wants to see you.”

Sullivan turned around, his smile all but gone as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Glad that got your attention. You can come, or don’t, I don’t really care. But remember, this aint New York.” I said coldly.

Milano was the real deal here. The head of the Greek Mafia. But no one knew who he really was, nor seen him. The man was like a phantom and his name stretched far and wide. Even extending into my own turf. How did an i***t like Sullivan Rune get connected to a phantom like that?

If Milano asked specifically for me, and even sent this i***t to come get me? It would be stupid to decline the invitation. And as much as I hated Sullivan’s guts, he was right. This wasn’t my turf.

“So what? You’re his lap dog now? Running errands?” I taunted him.

I could see the irritation behind his eyes at my words.

“Hah, I see you’ve still got that annoying sense of humor.” he retorted. “Milano asked me to personally invite you to his soiree this weekend.” he pulled out a black velvet envelop with a gold stamp used to seal it. I eyed the piece of paper in his hand with hesitation, but he waited patiently for me to take it. I eventually did. “Bring the Mrs. Wouldn’t want her to miss out on the fun now.”