Married to the mafia King

“ADRIANO!” I screamed.

Suddenly gunfire erupted all over the restaurant.

Strangers poured into the room, guns blazing.

Massimo and the other Rosolini men took cover and opened fire.

Guests screamed and darted beneath their tables

The musicians in the band scattered

And Mezzasalma’s calloused hand closed around my arm and hauled me to my feet.

“ADRIANO!” I screamed.

I saw him struggle to get up from the floor

Before Mezzasalma fired two more bullets into him.

BANG BANG!

Adriano fell out of sight behind the table.

I screamed in horror

And the old man began dragging me across the room.

His men lined up behind him and fired at any Rosolini soldier who dared show their head.

Mezzasalma fired at them, too and for the first time, I saw his weapon.

There was some kind of a mechanical arm, a contraption that had been folded inside his suit jacket.

When he’d flicked his wrist, it had extended to its full length

And placed a small gun right in the palm of his hand.

Within a few seconds, he had dragged me across the room into the underground passageway leading to the lobby.

There were gunshots up ahead of us

And Mezzasalma put his pistol to my head.

Valentino Rosolini stood farther down the hallway with a gun aimed at us.

A dead man lay at his feet.

“Get out of my way, boy, or I’ll plaster her brains all over the wall,” Mezzasalma growled.

Valentino looked into my eyes

And immediately withdrew, disappearing around a corner.

Mezzasalma forced me along, using me as a human shield should Valentino change his mind.

He dragged me up the stairs to the street just as a silver car roared up.

A clean-shaven man with sandy-colored hair jumped out of the driver’s side and rushed around the front. He left the door open and the engine running.

Behind us, the gunfire crescendoed inside the restaurant

Pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop

And then it was over.

People in the street were running and screaming.

Mezzasalma opened the passenger door of the car and shoved me inside.

“Get in the back and keep a gun on her,” he ordered the sandy-haired man, then slammed the door shut on me.

Mezzasalma limped around to the driver’s side. His black jacket was wet and gleaming in the headlights.

That explained the two gunshots I’d heard a split second apart

They weren’t from the same gun.

Adriano had shot Mezzasalma, too…

Although not nearly as badly as Mezzasalma had shot Adriano.

“You’re hit,” the sandy-haired man said in alarm.

“I’m fine get in the back,” Mezzasalma snarled as he slipped into the driver’s seat and put on his seatbelt.

The other man got in the back

And I felt the barrel of a gun press against the base of my skull.

“Don’t kill her, you fool,” Mezzasalma snapped. “If she gets out of line, just shoot her in the kneecap.”

Then he put the car into gear, and we roared off down the road.

Adriano

Gunshots blasted all around me as I groaned in agony.

Mezzasalma’s first shot had caught me off guard; the next two added insult to injury.

Thank God for Signor Guillardo’s tuxedo.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

He was famous in the Cosa Nostra for his bulletproof vests seamlessly combined with dress suits.

I’d ordered the ‘special padding’

Meaning I’d wanted everything covered.

Torso

Legs

And especially my cock.

A titanium codpiece.

Not the most comfortable accessory, but priceless all the same.

As it was, Mezzasalma’s three bullets hadn’t pierced my skin

But the suit only stopped bullets.

It couldn’t magically displace all that force.

My abdomen felt like Mike Tyson had sucker-punched me

And I was pretty sure at least two of my ribs were broken.

Small price to pay for not getting my dick shot off, though.

“Adriano!” a tinny voice shouted in my ear.

It wasn’t Bianca, though.

I’d heard her cries grow fainter as Mezzasalma dragged her across the restaurant.

My men had orders that she was to be protected at all costs, so I wasn’t worried that she would get shot

But I was terrified that she was now in the hands of the devil himself.

“Adriano ”

“What?!” I hissed as I forced myself to all fours.

“You alright?”

It was Valentino speaking through the tiny electronic earpiece I was wearing.

“No, I’m not!”

“Are you hit?!”

“Yeah, but not bleeding,” I said as I gritted my teeth.

I poked my head just high enough above the table to see what was going on.

Mezzasalma’s thugs were over to my left. They were firing at Massimo and my men over to the right.

Civilians were everywhere, screaming and hiding.

“Oh shit he just came through with Bianca!” Valentino said.

“Let them through!” I yelled. “Do NOT engage, do you hear me?!”

And then I opened fire on Mezzasalma’s men.

I guess they thought I was dead.

Surprise, surprise.

I shot three of them before they realized what was going on.

Their biggest problem was they were caught in a crossfire:

Massimo and our men opposite them

And me 90 degrees to their left.

There was nowhere to hide, and we sliced them to ribbons.

When the shooting stopped, no one was moving on the Mezzasalma men’s side…

Though there was lots of groaning.

I released the clip in my gun, slapped in a new one, and staggered across the restaurant.

“Where’s Bianca?” I snarled.

“I’ve got eyes on her,” Valentino said. “Some guy drove up in a Rolls Royce. Mezzasalma put her in the passenger seat he’s staggering around the front. Looks like he’s been shot.”

Finally, ONE good piece of news, I thought.

I could’ve sworn I hit the guy at the same time he hit me.

Not sure if he had a bulletproof vest on…

But he was Sicilian…

And from the way he looked, tough as nails.

“Mezzasalma just drove off with Bianca,” Valentino informed me.

“Get me a fucking car,” I snarled.

“You got it.”

Suddenly Massimo was beside me.

He bent down, ducked his head under my shoulder, and helped me go faster across the restaurant.

“You hit?” he asked.

“I’ll live. What about Lars?”

A new voice spoke in my ear, calm and collected.

“Sorry, man they had somebody on a nearby rooftop pinning us down.”

“It’s alright, as long as you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“What about the shooter?”

“Dead.”

“Good. Call Niccolo and tell him about Mezzasalma having men around the house.”

“Already did as soon as the bastard said it.”

My team Lars, Valentino, and Massimo had been listening the entire time via a microphone in my tux.

“Then tell Nic I need the chopper to tail Mezzasalma.”

That was part of the plan to have a helicopter on standby if we needed it.

“Roger that,” Lars said.

“You can’t drive in the shape you’re in,” Massimo said.

“The hell I can’t.”

“I’ll take the wheel you take shotgun.”

“Alright,” I agreed.

As we burst into the lobby, Valentino came rushing up. “Vincenzo’s outside.”

“Good,” I grunted as Massimo helped me hobble up the stairs.

Valentino ran alongside us. “Can I go with you?”

“No. Evacuate our men and help any civilians if you can.”

“But ”

“Do it!” I roared half from the pain I was in, half from frustration. “The cops’ll be here any minute you gotta be gone by then!”

“Okay,” Valentino said, then ran back down the stairs.

Massimo and I reached the street, where Vincenzo was waiting in one of our family’s bulletproof Mercedes.

Massimo flung open the passenger door and eased me into the seat.

Vincenzo looked over at me in shock. “Holy shit ”

“Get out,” Massimo told him right before he closed the door.

Vincenzo followed orders as my brother ran around the front.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Vincenzo asked.

“No, help Valentino,” Massimo said.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and slid it back as far as he could to accommodate his huge frame. Then he slammed the door and turned to me. “You good?”

“Let’s fuckin’ do this.”

Massimo stomped on the accelerator and we were off.