Page 66 of Lethal King

But then what? I go talk the Italians down from the roof? I set up shop in some stuffy office? I become a wise and distant king who leaves the fun shit to everyone else?

That doesn’t sound like my idea of victory.

Fuck.

“The Italians are fine,” Maksim assures me. “At least, they are for now. But you know them. If there’s one thing they respect more than respect itself, it’s power. And your power was tested at the coronation.”

“I’ll have to schedule a meeting with the four families,” I grumble, already dreading it.

There’s no fun in the diplomatic side of ruling.

“It might be best to meet them individually,” Maksim suggests. “A show of respect and appreciation for all they’ve done.”

“They’re doing less by the day,” I snip, remembering how Dad and I went over the numbers before he relinquished his crown to me.

The Italians were performing at an all-time low. Their production numbers were in the dirt, and they didn’t seem interested in picking up the slack—at least, not while my father’s future was in turmoil.

Disloyal bastards.

“Maybe you can motivate them to do more.”

Maksim is being insistent. That must mean this shit is important. And as much as I hate to take time out of my day to meet with people I have no interest in, I understand that I’ve already taken far too many liberties in my young career as a supposed mafia king.

“Fine. Put it in my schedule,” I relent.

“Very good,” Maksim nods, clearly pleased.

“Now, tell me why you knocked on my door.”

“Ah, yes. You have two special guests here to see you—well, three. Actually, four, if you count Don Sabatino as special.”

“I don’t,” I growl.

“Alright. Then let’s get that meeting out of the way first.”

“Who said I was going to meet him?”

Maksim just sighs.

“Rian, listen to me. Now is not the time to be testing the loyalty of your subordinates. They were all there when your strength was tested. They saw how your power was attacked. They know you aren’t interested in forging a stronger alliance through marriage. They’ve heard about how your crown was stolen…”

“My crown wasn’t the only thing stolen that day,” I blurt out, before forcibly settling myself. I don’t want to talk about my failures anymore. But there is something else on my mind. “How is Mel doing, by the way?

“She’s fine. Upset but fine. Would you like to stop by her guest room on the way downstairs? It would probably do her some good.”

For a moment, I hesitate. But not because I don’t want to see my little sister.

Mel is high on the list of people I’ve disappointed the most. And I was waiting until I had her painting back before going to her. But a thread of guilt pierces my chest when I realize how distant I’ve been acting.

She doesn’t deserve that.

“Yes,” I nod. “Let’s go see her. I have good news.”

* * *

“You found it?”

Mel’s eyes light up when I mention her painting.