Her Mafia Daddy - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

After his mother was killed, I kept a close eye on him, though I loosened my surveillance in the last three years as he took on more responsibilities. This had to be a mistake. "Tell Gratteri to count it again. I want every gram accounted for."
"He's already counted it three times, Rav."
"It's not a lot, but it looks sloppy. Worse, I cannot have Dimitri 's name associated with any irregularities in our operation."
"Agreed."
"Don't do anything, not until I can speak with Dimitri . If he admits to taking the drugs, I'll inform Gratteri that Dimitri was acting under my orders."
"No one will believe you need four hundred grams of coke."
"Maybe, but no one would dare question me."
"What will you do to Dimitri if he admits it?" I tapped my fingers on my desk. I never considered that discipline of this kind would be needed with my son. He'd been born and raised in our world, and he knew the consequences for transgressions. He'd even meted out quite a few himself over the last three or four years. The responsibility for punishment would fall on my shoulders...and I honestly didn't know what I would do. "Cristo. I'm not sure."
"Understandable, considering. Whatever happens, we'll keep it quiet."
"Yes, we fucking will…and the sooner he gets married, the better. Then he'll settle down and begin to fulfil his obligations as my heir."
Marco smirked. "I cannot picture you as nonno." I couldn't see myself as a grandfather, either, but it didn't matter. "You won't be far behind me, not with Fabrizio's reputation."
Marco's oldest son was sixteen and slept with nothing but a pair of tits. "Bite your tongue. I am not ready to be so old."
"Just wait. I'll be a nonno and still get more pussy than you."
"Go to hell." Marco rose out of his chair. "Let me know when the lovebirds are ready to go out." The knot in my stomach twisted. "I will."
"Oh, and did you hear? D'Agostino died." I leaned back in my chair and considered this news.
D'Agostino had been the head of the Avellinos, a 'ndrina we'd warred with in the past. My father brokered peace with them when I was a boy, but not until after two of my uncles and six cousins had been killed. Enzo, the eldest D'Agostino son, was known for his unpredictability.
Some said he wasn't right in the head. This would require careful navigation. We had to get along without giving up any of our power, a balance that seemed more and more difficult these days. "We'll have to arrange a meeting on neutral territory," I said.
"Make it appear as if we're willing to work with them."
"Want me to set it up?"
"No. Wait until they contact us. The Avellinos need us more than we need them."
"That is certainly true. With our lock on the southern ports, only the Sicilians come close to doing our business."
"I'll let you know the time for tonight later."
"Are you going to ask Dimitri about the coke before he leaves for dinner?" I thought about it. I needed Valentina to fall for Dimitri , to accept this marriage, which meant I needed him to be charming and happy.
If we argued, the evening might be ruined for everyone. "I'll wait until the morning. Tell Gratteri I am looking into it. Let Dimitri and his fiancée have fun tonight."
Valentina's POV
Even if I didn't want to admit it, I was excited to go out tonight. I told myself it was because I wanted to see Siderno, to look for possible escape routes. It was definitely that, but it was also the chance to get out of the castle. I hated being cooped up there, and a night in a fancy dress, at a fancy restaurant, sounded like heaven.
That was how far I'd fallen in just a few days. Dimitri was chatty during the drive into town, pointing out places and things, sharing funny stories about his childhood. The more I was around him, the less he seemed like a hardened gangster like his father. Dimitri was thoughtful and smart, playful and entertaining, basically everything Rafael was not. If they didn't look so much alike, I wouldn't guess they were related.
At the restaurant, everyone fawned over us like we were Kate Middleton and Prince William. I supposed we were sort of royalty, considering Dimitri 's last name. We were seated in a private room, the table covered with silver and crystal. The place was cosy and dark, with exposed
brick and soft lighting, and rows of wine bottles rested along the walls.
"Benvenuti a L'Agriturismo," the host said when we sat down. Then he started speaking to me in rapid Italian. I looked at Dimitri , helpless and embarrassed. It wasn't a feeling I liked. "Inglese, per favore," Dimitri said. The other man nodded.
"Do you have any food allergies, miss?"
"No, I don't." I ate just about anything and everything, a trait that used to make my father laugh. A pang of homesickness washed through me, hollowing out my stomach, but I pushed it aside. Papà had given me to Dimitri . To Ravazzani and the 'Ndrangheta. I would never forgive him for it. "Va bene," the man said.