Tempted By the Devil (Il Diavolo Mafia #1)

Prologue - Rafael

PROLOGUE - RAFAEL

MAY 2006 - RAGUSA IN SICILY, ITALY

“ Il diavolo ha molte forme.”

Mamma’s words whisper in my ear as I lurk in the bushes outside the club. I always thought it was some dumb proverb, but seeing Vito Bellucci in the flesh gives the saying new meaning.

He arrives like he’s in a parade. An army of cars fills the usually barren roads of Ragusa’s city centre. A formation of men waits for him on the cobblestone outside Il Toro.

Ragusa’s never seen celebrity like the Vito Bellucci coming through.

My eyes are peeled watching the doors pop open and the devil himself emerge. He’s everything they say he is and more—a bull-faced man that stalks forward in his pinstriped suit and gold pinky ring, striking fear in the hearts of everybody nearby.

The devil comes in many forms, but in Sicily, it’s Vito Bellucci, Don of the Bellucci family. He has public officials on his payroll and the world at his fingertips.

He exudes power and glory.

Never to be crossed, always to be revered, nobody can compare.

The two of us live in opposite worlds despite being less than fifteen meters apart.

Don Bellucci’s escorted inside Il Toro nightclub while I sulk unknown and unseen in the bushes.

Tonight’s been another night of pickpocketing and scamming. I’ve got about twenty euros to show for it. Barely enough to feed me and Nonna Ornella for a few more nights.

The little money she’s earned giving tailoring clothes has been taken by the same devil strolling into Il Toro.

People in the village don’t dare push back against his tax .

The fee he charges for his protection is seen as a necessary evil. Otherwise, he’ll allow the street gangs to take over. He’ll let the rival crime family, the Morelli’s, reign over us.

Everyone’s come to an unspoken consensus that their rule would be worse than Don Bellucci’s. At least Bellucci leaves us alone; he doesn’t allow his men to bully and intimidate residents and he doesn’t lay claim to various properties around the village.

Though it’s a known fact they do belong to him should he ever wish to take them.

But, as the devil himself disappears into the nightclub and his men follow, I can’t deny there’s bitterness snaking through me. There’s a real sense of animosity that this ugly fuck has the world at his fingertips while I’ve got nothing more than a pocket full of coins.

Call it reckless. Call it dumb.

Call it fucking suicidal—’cuz it is.

It’s a death wish I’m embarking on as I step out from behind the bushes. I stick my hands in my pockets and look both ways before crossing the street.

Nobody’s around except stragglers. A pair of lovers sharing a smoke a few buildings over.

Bellucci’s men have gone inside with him. The music pours out from the club building. Eurodance music that makes my eardrums bleed. Everybody must be having the times of their lives, because nobody comes out.

The coast is clear.

The fancy Fiat he arrived in sits unguarded. Easily hot wirable in under sixty seconds. Especially since they didn’t even bother locking the door.

I’ll almost certainly die if I do this. Either I’ll get caught right away or I’ll take the fast car for a joyride and eventually be gunned down by his men.

I’ve got nothing to my name. I’ve got nothing to lose.

So why not risk the one thing I do have?

My life.

Nobody except Nonna’s going to give a fuck if some no-name kid gets killed by la cosa nostra . I won’t even care if that’s how I go.

I’m quick sliding behind the wheel of the car that smells like leather and feels like new.

It probably is—Vito Bellucci’s so loaded he could afford a whole fleet of these.

But I don’t have time to ponder if he does. Every second counts when you’re stealing a car on a public street. Not just any car either.

A car that belongs to the devil himself.

The engine whirs once, twice, rumbling to life on the third try.

A broad grin comes to my face. “Easy. I’ll show you, motherfucker. Take our money? Take what we’ve got? I’ll take what you’ve got. The devil’s finally met his match.”

I grip the steering wheel and reach over to shift the manual gears.

Then I realize I’m not so alone anymore.

Someone clicks their tongue from the cobblestone sidewalk. The devil himself has appeared, flanked by two henchmen who look ready to bash my skull in.

“ Cosa pensi di fare, ragazzo ?” Vito Bellucci asks calmly.

I’m left speechless by his sudden appearance. Something that almost never happens to me.

Don Bellucci nods his head at his men and they step forward to wrench open the door and drag me out of the Fiat. They take an arm each, gripping me tight, and force me to look up at the man who I just tried stealing from.

The most powerful man in Sicily.

The most powerful man in all of Italy.

I might as well be an animal at the zoo by how he stares me up and down. He surveys every detail about me in tense silence, the top lip curling on his ugly face.

“How about we make this boy’s wish come true?” he says. “Come, soldatos . Let’s take him for a ride.”