◆ Threats To Sanity ◆

◆ MILES ◆

"Bambino, è un compito semplice, ma di enorme importanza." [My boy, it's a simple task, but one of grave importance.]

"Alora?" [So?] I swore inwardly, waiting for him to cut the bullshit. He didn't call me "bambino" unless he wanted me to do something for him. Important or otherwise. Or he wanted to manipulate me into agreeing to something he said or proposed.

"Parlagli e basta, e fatti dare le sua benestare." [Just talk to him, and y'know, get his blessing.]

"Cosa sta' dicendo, Pappa?" [What're you saying, Pappa?]

Get that old dirtbag's approval? What for? That nutjob Leandro Tomassini already signed the contract for the port deal, including the senior executives and the board of directors.

That deal was closed months ago. Why should I ask for that dirty old creep's blessing? Shit if I had to meet with Ignazio Tomassini this week. Enzo and Leandro's uncle. Currently the head of the Tomassini empire.

Since Leandro was still in training wheels, Pappa mentioned that the Tomassini clan chose Ignazio to be in charge for the meantime after Luciano (Enzo and Leandro's father) got seriously ill. Bed-ridden.

Ignazio, a known businessman here in Italy, was mostly a real estate mogul with lucrative properties and prolific money launderers on his payroll. Also a dirty old pedo in his spare time, if memory served me right.

Another Tomassini with deep pockets. Lots of connections. A sex addict with illegal and perverse pastimes. Not surprising.

"E come sempre, non posso dirti di no?" [And as usual, I can't say no to you?] I sighed after a moment of silence.

Pappa Stefano sighed on the other line, as if utterly disappointed and annoyed by my antagonistic tone. "He's turning 65. Just throw him a big party on Serrafim. Alcohol. Good food. Get some girls onboard. Then your job's done."

Done? My job would be "done"? It wasn't even part of my job description in the first place. But of course I should do exactly as he says.

Serrafim was our newly launched cruise ship, which Pappa was very much willing to trash for days on end just to throw that old Tomassini creep a nice retirement party.

My current designation as part of the Client Relations Management Team of course included some long-term schmoozing and constant ass-kissing when it came to maintaining good relationships with our big clients and business partners. But at this point, I just didn't have the gumption or a shred of willingness to care.

Sure. Our family business had grown exponentially the past months thanks to the Tomassinis and their connections. But I just didn't want to act like my father. Act as if I owed everything to that clan of hopelessly corrupt assholes. It was just pathetic. "Did you forget I tried to shoot his nephew's head off?" I said louder. It should remind him of my recent death threat to Leandro.

That happened when I found Mykaela helplessly trapped on that secret orgy island in San Pietro. It wouldn't surprise me at all if someone told me Leandro took his whores there whenever he went on "vacation".

"Maximiliano."

"Why can't Amara or Artur do it? Or Emil? He hangs out with Ignazio's son from time to time," I reasoned. Ricchar and I weren't the only second-generation Falcos working for the family business. I wasn't even semi-decent at party-planning.

Pappa must be thinking I didn't care that he's doing business with the likes of Ignazio, who liked to live a life of overindulgence as much as he enjoyed underage prostitutes. So now I had to gladly throw that mafia boss a wild birthday party on our newest cruise ship?

"Just call Ricchar. I'm busy this month." I scoffed and threw my cellphone on the bed, ignoring the dried up splotches of blood on the wrinkled sheets.

To cut down on my drug intake, I had to resort to sex-for-blood exchanges again. Last night's willing blood bag was a younger guy, quite into the dark gothic scene here in the country. He left early in the morning, just as I expected.

The situation with female strangers before was no different. Money was also in the mix at times. But I preferred to do those transactions in hotels. Just to lessen the risks of getting personally involved in other people's businesses.

"Ricchar and Cloe need some time alone." Pappa sighed on the other end, sounding more serious. Bossy as always. "You know she needs bed rest to keep the baby healthy and safe. For now, Charr needs to stay by her side at all times."

Right. So that of course meant Ricchar had to take more time off work, and I had to assume more of his tasks. My steady paychecks took care of my daily expenses, taxes to pay, the upkeep of my house, so on. But hiring a full-time assistant would be stretching my income thin.

I just didn't have the time or energy to paint new artworks to sell on the side. "Call Amara. Or Emil. Artur's never busy. Likes to party and kiss ass, too."

"Amara?" my father echoed. "She's on her honeymoon with Luis. Emil and Artur are busy fixing his latest screwup. They just met with Greco this morning."

I sat on the side of the bed, my fist clenching at the news.

The last I heard, the Massardos now had some issues with our clan after Artur, my youngest cousin, assaulted Greco Massardo's son in a bar fight, sending the guy into the nearest emergency room. The Massardos had been doing business with our family for years now. And not always the legal kind.

Since Ricchar and my other cousins were too busy dealing with their own shit, now I had to entertain Ignazio Tomassini by myself next weekend.

"Oh great," I murmured under my breath. Something was trying to drill a hole inside my skull, and now that he gave me another task, I highly doubted I'd get four hours of sleep without downing some pills.

"Maxim, stop complaining and just get it done." Pappa let out another lengthy sigh. "Then we'll have no problems with your inheritance."

Inheritance. Wow. Did he seriously just bring that up?

As if money would be enough. As if it solved everything...every little thing I would have to get my hands on in two weeks' time just to make that party happen.

Did he actually think everyone else around him worshipped money as much as he did?

I shook my head and glared at his name on my phone screen. The heck's up with him tonight?

I never asked him or Mamma for more money after they helped pay for my house. I worked my ass off and paid for everything else.

Did he really think I was exactly like him? That all I cared about was keeping up a comfortable life despite losing my soul to the devil?

This man just never fails to make me dream of the day we'd finally have to shove him six feet under... Not gonna be anytime soon. But if he didn't stop fucking around with the Tomassinis, my daydreaming might just become reality in a matter of weeks.

"Maxim, just get it done."

"Certo. Ciao." [Of course. Bye.]

It was all I said before hanging up on him. I might do more than swear out loud if we kept talking on the phone.

"Fuck." Now I had to call Lorenzio to ask what drugs and booze his uncle liked to get shitfaced with lately. Great.

He'd better not be anywhere near Kel.

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