1. Lindsay #4
I pick up one of the pictures. There are four men in it, standing side by side. Four of the most dangerous and important members of the Vitale mafia empire.
Four of the Vitale brothers. I’m pretty sure there are five, but I know nothing about the last one.
Which is almost in line with what I know about the other brothers. Next to nothing. They’re private, secretive, which makes sense considering what kind of business they partake in. The file I have contains their names and ages, schools they attended, and possible roles within the mafia.
Salvatore Vitale is the Don, the boss, and he’s also the man who got married to my best friend about a year ago. Raffaele Vitale stands beside him, there’s something almost feral about him compared to the rest of the brothers.
With the rest of the brothers, you could walk right past them on the street and have no idea what they are. Raffaele Vitale, however, looks like he walked right out of the underworld.
It’s the look in his eyes, almost rabid and completely upsetting. He’s also heavily tattooed which isn’t helping matters. Ink spills out from every inch of him that the light touches.
Elio Vitale is the youngest who graduated from Harvard not too long ago. He seems to be gearing up to be completely immersed in the family business. Which is a shame because he’s young and part of me feels like he could choose a better life away from all the crime and murder.
From the surveillance reports, he’s spent the last couple of months shadowing both the Don and Matteo Vitale, who is the last man in the picture.
I stare at him for longer than the others. He’s the one I know the most about. He might as well be the face of the Vitale empire. Thirty-four years old and a graduate of Wharton Business school, summa cum laude if the rumors are to believed.
He’s the smartest of the brothers. The one who manages most of the businesses they use as a front for their illegal activities.
He’s somehow exactly what you’d expect from a member of the mafia, and yet the complete opposite at the same time. If Raffaele Vitale looks like he walked right out of the underworld, then Matteo Vitale might as well be the gatekeeper.
Like the rest of the Vitale men, he’s good looking in a way that makes it seems he was cut and molded with intentionality. Even from a picture, I can almost feel his intense dark gaze sweeping over me, scanning for weaknesses.
He stares straight forward, his jaw crisp and clean shaven. He’s in an expensive black Armani suit like the rest of them, with an even more expensive watch on his wrist.
I can’t help but feel like Matteo’s the most dangerous of them all.
With the rest of them, you know where you stand, to a certain degree.
Salvatore’s cards are easy enough to get at; he’s in charge.
He’ll stop at nothing to protect his family.
Raffaele’s a brute and it’s clear he’s the brother to avoid.
Elio has yet to grow into his power or ruthlessness.
Matteo, however, possesses a quiet intelligence that makes it hard to guess at his motivations. One could be mistaken about who he really is and in doing so may unwittingly fall into a trap. He’s a leopard that can blend in, hiding his spots, and that makes him infinitely dangerous to me.
I stare at him in the picture for longer than I should. A part of me feels a thrill at the prospect of figuring him out. It would be no easy feat to unmake a man like him.
Which makes me feel a little sick. First Valentina gets lulled into the madness of the mafia, and now I’m entertaining asinine thoughts about one of them?
They’re criminals, murderers. Every single one of them. And my job is to put them all away. Behind bars.
And yet there’s something about the look on Matteo’s face that calls to me.
I remember catching a glimpse of him at the wedding. A short one, before it all went to hell.
He had stood by his brother’s side, his lips in a firm line, his eyes taking in everything all at once. The suit he wore was definitely custom made for him. Not a seam out of place. It had clung to him like he belonged inside of it. He cut an impressive figure.
I’m still not sure why he stood out to me so much. All I know is that I’d stared at him for longer than I should have, wishing he was anyone else.
My thighs clench together almost reflexively. A dull ache beneath my breasts and thoughts of what it would feel to stare down a man like Matteo Vitale and I realize I’ve officially lost it.
I’m so horny.
The last time I had sex was way too long ago. Which is probably why I’m entertaining such stupid thoughts about a man who might as well be the devil himself. I need a distraction or at the very least a drink.
I shut the Vitale file before getting dressed and grabbing a jacket. Exiting the penthouse, I head down to the third floor of the hotel. There’s a bar there, and while I may avoid the restaurant and the more luxurious parts of the hotel, rhe bar is more understated.
The patrons there could be good looking enough to make this night and these horrendous past few weeks marginally better.