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It was an unwritten rule.
Not once in the mafia’s history have I ever learned of a union between the two. The two branches of the mafia were night and day. Where one believed in decorum and rules and preferred the gentlemanly way, the other didn’t give a fuck. They were messy and killed whomever and whenever. There was no logic to the Bratva.
Long ago, the families established rules that there would be no alliances between the two branches. And to my recollection, there has never been such an alliance.
Until now.
“I wish you’d just let me hire someone to kill him.”
“I can’t let you do that,” I muttered, knowing damn well why I couldn’t give my brother the go ahead. He was right. It would be so fucking easy to end all this misery with a single bullet, but it wouldn’t solve a damn thing. In fact, it would only make things worse.
No. As much as I wanted Maxim to pay for what he did, I couldn’t in good conscience have him killed. “What do you think the families will do?”
Sal sighed. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but I know you will become persona non grata. None of the families will give you aid.”
“What about you?”
Salvatore smirked. “I’ve never followed directions well. You know that. You’re my baby sister. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says. If the families sanction me, I’ll just tell them to go fuck themselves.”
“I’ve put you in a terrible position, haven’t I?”
Shrugging, Salvatore muttered, “Nothing worse than when Giovanni told me I couldn’t see Isabella Cavallari anymore.”
“She was a bitch and you know it.”
He nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “True, but she was good in bed.”
“EWW!” I laughed, picking up a pen and throwing it at him. “I did not need to hear that.”
It was late when I walked into the penthouse at Davenport Tower to find Mrs. Rushton sitting on the sofa in the living room, holding an envelope in her hands.
Seeing me, she slowly stood as I walked over.
“What’s wrong?”
“This came for you twenty minutes ago.”
Handing me the envelope, I opened it and read.
There was no way this was going to be good news.
News delivered in the dead of night rarely was.
Illyria Valentinetti,
First, let me congratulate you on your marriage to Maxim Fedorov. The Italian families around the world would like to wish you nothing but happiness. May your union be everything you wished for.
It is also with a heavy heart that I must inform you that the Italian families will no longer afford you protection. I am sure you understand, as we cannot interfere with your husband’s business.
May I suggest seeking protection from an outside source, as your marriage has caused a rift in the alliance that our two branches once held?
Sincerely,
Alphonso Moraiti Vinelli, Don of the families of Italy.
Well, shit.
That was fast.
