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Orazio widened his muscled arms. His gray suit was so tight it looked like it was screaming for oxygen. I worked out, but this guy clearly took his workouts seriously.
“Franco, what the fuck?”
I stood and kissed both of his cheeks.
“What the fuck what?” I said as I sat across from him.
Ettore approached, pouring two fingers of whiskey into two short glasses. I nodded at him before he stepped away.
Orazio slipped a hand over his short brown hair. “Tell you what?”
“Don’t fucking play with me, Orazio.” I stabbed my finger on the table.
“A few men tried to kill me as of late. Porter, one of my men, was the first to almost succeed. I’ll tell you like I told the others. If you think anyone other than a DeLuca will run Portland, you’re delusional. My family will not give up Portland. Eugene is now the DeLucas’ territory. Will I gain Bend next?” I asked, raising two fingers in the air.
“Franco, sending the arm to deliver a message was fucking crazy. And uncalled for,” Orazio bit out.
Saro placed a lit cigar in my grip. I brought it to my lips and puffed. I stared at Orazio through the plume of smoke. Notes of cinnamon and chocolate danced on my tongue like my wife’s pussy would do later tonight.
I removed the cigar from my lips and pointed it at Orazio. “Would you have preferred to receive Lungy’s body instead of his arm?” My brows rose in confusion.
His brown eyes darkened. “Franco, I didn’t want to receive any deadly messages from you.”
Bringing the cigar to my lips, I puffed again, still staring into his eyes. I held the cigar between my fingers, pointing it at him again. “I’m going to ask you a simple question. The truth is what I want. Orazio, if you lie you and I will be at war too. And I’ll run all of Oregon. Who’s trying to kill me?”
Hopefully, those words drove my message home.
Orazio nodded, then gulped half the contents in his glass. “A certain someone visited me weeks ago. He said we needed to get rid of the problem running Portland.”
My lips formed a thin line. Clutching the whiskey glass in my other hand, I was two seconds away from squeezing it until it broke into tiny pieces.
“I said I never had a problem with you. Sure, you're arrogant as fuck.” He shrugged. “But who isn’t in this business?”
That was true. Every mafia man I knew had an air about them. If I walked around greeting everyone like a politician, they would’ve said I was sneaky and untrustworthy. What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Orazio gestured his hand in front of me. “Maybe it’s that Thor thing that fucks with people.”
Dark laughter left my throat. “Let me get this straight. Because I’m a very confident man. And maybe a bit cocky. Oh, and I look like a superhero in a suit. That combination puts mafia men on edge?”
He teetered his hand. “A little, yes.”
Orazio sank back into the black leather booth. “You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you. I told him I wouldn’t take part in his scheme to take Portland. I’m aware the DeLucas’ hold a massive mafia presence all over the world.”
“The message I delivered was gruesome. However, I wonder if any of my cousins would’ve delivered a tougher message. Maybe blowing up one of your warehouses where you keep guns. I felt my method was rather reserved for a savage gentleman like myself.” I straightened my navy tie, then placed the cigar between my lips, offering a superhero smile.
The Thor shit had gotten out of hand. The only person I’d let say I looked like Thor was my wife.
“I want a name,” I growled.
He smoothed a hand over his brown bearded chin. “Duke.”
I blew out a breath. “Was that so hard?”
“Franco, I wanted nothing to do with this shit,” he spat.
I chuckled. “Orazio, I knew you had nothing to do with this war.”
His brows lifted. “How?”
