The Masterful Italian (The Masterful Series) Read online

  The Masterful Italian

  An Italian Mafia Romance

  Cordelia Gregory

  Published by Blushing Books

  An Imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia Corporation

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

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  ©2020

  All rights reserved.

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  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The trademark Blushing Books is pending in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  * * *

  Cordelia Gregory

  The Masterful Italian

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  EBook ISBN: 978-1-64563-440-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64563-441-6

  Audio ISBN: 978-1-64563-442-3

  v1

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  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Cordelia Gregory

  Blushing Books

  Blushing Books Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  London, July 1996

  A sudden blue flash dazzled Alessandro’s eyes, momentarily blinding him in its vivid colour. Before he could determine its source, the ground beneath his feet shook and the world around him began to explode and splinter. Air rushed from the darkness to punch him hard in the chest. The last thing he remembered was being thrown backwards up into the air to be dashed against the wall of an office building.

  Moments later, he regained consciousness to find an assortment of glass, plaster and paper debris lying over his fallen crumpled body. He put his hand to his aching head as he made a stiff effort to sit up. He turned his head sharply to the source of hurried footsteps approaching from the top end of the London alleyway in which he had been walking. Vainly, he attempted to focus his blurring vision on the figure.

  The figure cleared to reveal a man passing by, blooding streaming in a torrent down his face. He was crying loudly and didn’t seem to know where he was going as he stumbled on and out of the small street. The faintly lit evening had turned grey with smoke and there was a smell of gas. For a moment, Alessandro thought he was dreaming. None of it seemed real, it couldn’t be, he wasn’t sure. He wiped at the small trickle of blood coming from his forehead and considered how lucky he was at having survived the explosion.

  He cleared away the debris and slowly stood, wiping the dust and plaster from his navy suit. There was a distant wail of police sirens and a chorus of car alarms going off as he hurriedly made his way to the opposite end of the alley wondering if the man he had arranged to meet outside a restaurant in the next street was still alive.

  Alessandro heard a woman shouting as he rounded the corner. Quickly he looked for her and spied her leaning over the prostrate form of a man lying in the middle of a road. She was desperately trying to revive him with mouth to mouth and heart massage. The small Italian restaurant he’d frequented so often was blown through and its huge glass windows lay in shards all over the road. A large one lay imbedded in the injured man’s chest. He was a bloody mess and Alessandro doubted whether the woman’s efforts to save his life weren’t a waste of time.

  He made his way towards her, stepping over the rubble. A street lamp was bent double, the light holder having been broken but the light was still shining. It creaked eerily in the warm July evening breeze, casting shadows of yellow light in the grey cloud that now hung low all around him. He found himself stopping to step over the body of a young woman and two of her severed limbs. There were several other bodies littering the street all in the same state of dissection.

  Finally, he reached the frantic brunette counting out loud as she continued to give the injured man heart massage. Alessandro Maderno was no stranger to death or those who sought to set its curse upon others. He was often one of its messengers in his line of work, but still he found himself wincing at the futility of death’s random set of innocent victims. At least when he brought death to an individual, there was a reason, a purpose, a due to be paid, even a justice to it.

  He felt blood dampen his forehead and ran his fingers through his soft black hair finding the cut. He would need stitches. He was lucky that was all he had needed. Not many people seemed to have survived the explosion in this street. He would be damn lucky if his informant was alive. More than likely he was lying in several pieces just like the others strewn around him. He approached the woman and felt the warmth of a blazing fire against his face. He turned to stare into the glow of flames that roared in the gutted hole of what used to be one of his favourite restaurants. He needed to get her away from it. The smell of gas was much stronger here.

  He looked down at the man and cursed under his breath. It was his informant, Paul Wakem. The man’s eyes were staring wide and vacant of life, yet still the pretty young woman was doing all she could to save him and refusing to admit defeat.

  He called down to her, but she didn’t seem to hear him or even notice his presence. He bent down and took Paul’s pulse in his wrist just to make sure. He was gone.

  “He’s dead. You need to stop now. There is nothing more you can do for him,” he told the woman gently, laying his hand lightly on her arm.

  It was of little use. She was in shock. Her hands were covered in blood as she continued resuscitation and tears streamed unnoticed down her cheeks. His heart leapt out in sympathy. He leaned over and more firmly took hold of her arms commanding her to stop. She looked up at him with confused and startled brown eyes as if she had only just realised he was there. Bewildered and dazed with shock and no doubt blood loss from the large wound in her forehead, she allowed him to prise her hands away from Paul’s body.

  “Is he really dead?” she asked. “I tried but I couldn’t seem to help him. What kind of a doctor am I? I tried but I couldn’t help anyone here,” she told him with a shaky voice that was on the verge of cracking into hysteria. “Maybe I shouldn’t give up like I did with that man and that little girl over there.”

  Alessandro gave her a sympathetic look as he glanced at the mangled bodies she referred to. No wonder she was traumatised. He caught hold of her shoulders as she moved away from him to work on Paul again. This time, he wasn’t giving her any choice. He pulled her roughly towards him, his intention to get her on her feet and away from the fire that raged in what was left of the restaurant before something blew in there. But the lady was a fighter and wasn’t going to come easily.

  “He’s dead. There’s nothing more you can do,” he shouted at her, giving her a shake when she struggled fiercely in his hold. “I can
smell gas. That restaurant is going to blow any second. I am not going to let you die.”

  He wondered if she would be able to stand. Her body was trembling like a pneumatic drill and her head kept tilting backwards as though she were about to lose consciousness. That nasty gash to her forehead was streaming with blood. She needed a doctor quick.

  “I can’t just leave him there. I don’t even know who he is...”

  Alessandro growled.

  “Lady, you are testing my patience. Stay put. I will find out who he is...”

  It was a great excuse to look in Paul’s jacket pockets. Paul was supposed to bring him something tonight. Hard evidence he said, “Enough for you to bring down your grandfather and start a war between all the families. Just what you’ve always wanted.”

  It had been an effort to wait until that evening. He searched in Paul’s pockets but there was nothing. He turned and looked at the woman, wondering. Had she taken it? No, it was a crazy thought. She was distraught. Besides, she didn’t know anything. Still he had an uneasy feeling at the way she avoided his eyes when he looked at her.

  “He hasn’t got any ID. I don’t know who he is,” he told her, standing, watching her fold and unfold her arms in an agitated restless manner.

  “I want to stay with them until the paramedics come. I don’t want to leave them on their own. I shouldn’t. I’m a doctor,” she told him, running her hands through her short chestnut flicked out hair.

  He had to get her out of there. She was going a nasty shade of white. He stood up and swept his hand around her face gently lifting it to him to capture her dazed attention.

  Alessandro spoke softly but with determination. “No. I am not letting you stay here. You’ve done all you could. You need medical attention. And it’s dangerous.”

  The moment he spoke, another explosion echoed from the distance somewhere in the city. The woman jumped as the ground shook once more. Alessandro found himself impulsively pulling her into the safety of his arms, holding her protectively against him.

  “What was that?” she asked against his shoulder, tears in her voice.

  “Another explosion.”

  “What’s happening to us?”

  “Someone is trying to make a point and overdoing it,” he informed her coldly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He swept his arm around her waist, keeping her close and supported, conscious she was ready to pass out and began leading her back the way he came. Relieved she was now too weak to offer him any resistance. They hadn’t reached the end of the street when Alessandro heard the pounding of heavy feet through the debris and the fire of a handgun. Instinctively, he pushed the woman against the side of one of the buildings out of the way as he pulled out his own gun, but it was too late. The bullet sliced through her arm raising an anguished squeal of unexpected pain. He caught her over his arm as she slumped and pushed her down into the shadow cast by the wall of the building closest to them in the heavy smog. He stood in front of her, gun aimed, waiting for the men to come out of the fog. It seemed his grandfather was on to him and not even a terrorist bomb was going to stop him from making his grandson see the error of his ways.

  Chapter 2

  Alessandro aimed. It was stupid. The smog was growing dense and the lack of light was irritating. He’d be lucky if he hit anything. He moved back against the woman and into the shadows hearing his assailants run towards him. A quick glance at the girl told him she was still alert despite her injuries. He put his finger to his lips and motioned for her to be quiet as she pressed her back against the wall for support and stared at him in bemused alarm. He turned quickly, hearing the first man approach and brought the butt of his Glock down hard on the back of the man’s neck with deft force.

  The man dropped to the ground hard and out cold. The second was on him before he could let out a breath. Alessandro raised his leg in a perfect arc and executed a neat roundhouse kick, knocking the man’s handgun from his hand. Startled, the man fought to recover quickly and launched himself at Alessandro, driving his head into his stomach and pushing him backwards against the girl.

  She gave a squeal and moved out of the way. Alessandro struggled hard. The guy was big, built like a brick shit house. It was Gregorio, one of his grandfather’s best men. He wound his hand around Alessandro’s throat and gripped hard, banging the younger man’s head off the wall. Alessandro pushed back against the man’s chest with his arm to gain his freedom, trying to aim his Glock as his assailant tried to wrestle it from his grasp with his free hand.

  If Gregorio succeeded in subduing him, he’d drag Alessandro back to his grandfather like a trophy but the girl... He’d kill her without hesitation. The realisation renewed Alessandro’s waning energy. He was her only hope for survival. Out the corner of her eye, he could see her frantically looking for something to hit Gregorio with. He needed her to stay back. She wouldn’t be any good to him in that state. She would just get herself killed.

  He growled as he felt his throat constrict and fought to get his breath. If the bastard kept this up, he’d be unconscious. He kicked out at the guy, refusing to give in. But he felt his grip on the Glock slipping as his consciousness ebbed away. Gregorio banged Alessandro’s arm against the wall in a constant brutal motion. Despite Alessandro’s effort to retain his hold, the handgun fell to the ground. Shit was he in trouble now.

  Gregorio leaned down to pick it up. Alessandro struggled for all his life’s worth, trying to kick the gun away with his feet as darkness began to creep into the sides of his vision. His blurring eyes frantically sought out the girl. He hoped she’d had the fucking sense to run. Gregorio picked up the gun and that’s when Alessandro found out where the girl had gone. She stood behind his assailant whacking him on the head and back with what was left of a wooden chair as if there was no tomorrow.

  The guy swore, stooping with each blow and let go of Alessandro’s throat turning swiftly to swipe the back of his hand across her face. The blow was enough to knock her to the ground semi conscious. It was all Alessandro needed. He bent quickly to retrieve his handgun and took the safety off. As the man turned back to him, he aimed it at him square.

  “Tell my grandfather I will not be forced back into his stinking family,” he panted, his hand to his throat as he fought to catch his breath once more. “Tell him I won’t rest until he is a dead man. Got that?” Alessandro snapped.

  The man shook his head and gave Alessandro a look of disgust. He spoke English with a heavy Venetian accent. “I do not understand your disrespect to Signor Vadala. If you were my own, I would have cut off your head for your dishonour to the family. I will deliver no such message.”

  “Maybe this will change your mind.” Alessandro coldly redirected his aim towards the man’s leg and discharged a bullet into his kneecap. Gregorio sank to the rubble-strewn ground crying like a baby with pain. Alessandro leaned over him to pull him up by the shirt collar and got in his face. “You tell that bullshitter that I’m coming for him. You come after me again or go after the girl, and I’ll kill you next time.”

  Gregorio spat his response in Alessandro’s face. “You can’t escape the family. Do your duty and come home. He wants you to take over the business when he’s gone. Why he should still love you as one of his own...?”

  “Shut your mouth and get up before I decide to take your other kneecap away.”

  Alessandro pulled the man up by his collar and aimed the handgun at the back of his head, fighting back the urge to blow his head off.

  “He wants to give you everything,” the man panted. “You are heir to the Vadala family and all that he owns.” There was incredulity in Gregorio’s tone.

  “I belong to my father’s family. The Madernos.”

  “When your grandfather finishes wiping out your family, you will have to return and know your place. Your mother learnt the hard way what it meant to leave the family and bring it disgrace.”

  Rage boiled over in Alessandro’s mind. He knew the bastard was try
ing to push his buttons but the memory of his mother being mowed down on the road by a hit and run driver all those years ago, automatically began to replay in his mind. It never stopped. It was always there waiting for a reason to come out and torment him. Remind him of his real duty, to exact revenge on her behalf.

  “Your mother was a stupid, dumb bitch. Come back now or your father will pay for your mistake. Maybe this woman as well.”

  Alessandro pushed him away and without hesitation shot his other leg in the thigh. He let him fall to the ground once again so that he might tower over Gregorio’s panting, blabbering form.

  “Move now. Crawl if you have to. If I catch you harming the woman or going anywhere near my father, I will come for you and then your own family. Do I make myself clear?”

  There was a strangled mumble from the man. Alessandro repeated his question pressing the gun into his temple. His voice was deep with menace. “I said, do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, yes,” the man blurted out in anger, a beaded sweat breaking out on his forehead as he fought to endure the agony of his injuries.

  “Now move.”

  It was a miracle the man could stand let alone move, but he did walk back in the direction of the fire as Alessandro continued to aim at him. There was a loud bang from the restaurant and fire blew out of it making the man jump and seek cover before picking up speed. He’d narrowly missed being burnt. The burst of flames lit up the street in the gloom, revealing the gaping building fronts with paper and plaster raining down from the blown in offices.