Mafia Heir

Mafia Heir The Mancinelli Brotherhood Book 1 Sabine Barclay All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Sabine Barclay, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2023 by Sabine Barclay. 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Published by Oliver Heber Books Created with Vellum Welcome to The Mancinelli Brotherhood, and welcome if you’re new to my The Syndicate Wars, an underground world where four organized crime groups vie to control New York City. If you’ve read any of my other Mafia series, prepare to see the Italians in a new light. Happy reading, Sabine Subscribe to Sabine’s Newsletter Subscribe to Sabine’s bimonthly newsletter to receive exclusive insider perks. Have you read The Syndicate Wars? This FREE origin story novella is available to all new subscribers to Sabine’s monthly newsletter. The Mancinelli Brotherhood Mafia Heir Mafia Sinner (5.9.23) Mafia Beauty (6.27.23) Mafia Angel (8.22.23) Mafia Redeemer (10.17.23) Mafia Star (12.12.23) Do you also enjoy steamy Historical Romance? Discover Sabine’s books written as Celeste Barclay. 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 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Epilogue Don’t miss the next installment Thank you for reading Mafia Heir The Ivankov Brotherhood Chapter One Luca This asshole is pissing me off. We’ve been going around in circles for five minutes, and the longer we stand out here, the greater the likelihood someone will spot us. I have a sixth sense about these things. It’s why I’m still alive at the ripe old age of thirty-one. “Espinoza, enough already. Either sell to us or don’t, but we set the price. Your tequila is good, but it isn’t nectar from the gods.” I’m watching Carlos Espinoza, some lackey for the Mexican Culiacán Cartel, try to maneuver me into paying more than the agreed upon price. I know it’s so he can skim off the top. “It’s as close as you’re going to get. You’ve upped the order, so the price per case goes up.” My uncle, Salvatore Mancinelli, is the New York don. He negotiated this deal, and I warned him it was a bad idea. But what do I know as his underboss and heir? I’m not backing down. “Haven’t you ever heard of a bulk discount? The more I order the better the price should be. No one else around here is buying from you. You know we’re your only choice in three out of five boroughs. You aren’t going to the Bronx because you won’t get more than pennies there. You aren’t going to Queens because you don’t want to run into the Colombians. You aren’t going to Manhattan because then you face the bratva along with us. And what are you going to do in Staten Island? Sell to us anyway? We control Staten Island and Brooklyn when it comes to liquor stores, so take the money and go.” “Luca, there are plenty of liquor stores in Brooklyn that aren’t owned by Italians. I’ll go there.” We aren’t friends. He’s patronizing me by using my first name. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on. I have other solutions for this shit. “And I’ll just take what I want from them for free. That’s not a half bad idea. The deal’s over. Take your shit with the worm in it and go.” “Motherfucking racist. Not all tequila has a worm in it.” “You’re selling Mezcal. It’s known for the fucking worm. I wouldn’t start calling me names, you penche hijo de puta.” Fucking son of a bitch. He has twenty-five crates of stolen tequila that he’s trying to offload because he knows he can’t sell it at his own liquor store. “What did you call me?” Carlos takes what he thinks is a menacing step forward, and his two bodyguards do the same. Not smart. Neither of my two bodyguards nor I react, but the three men in each of my cars open their doors. They won’t do more than that. It’s just a reminder that the Culiacán can try, but the Cosa Nostra still run New York City. “This is the third and final time I say this. Sell or leave.” Every head turns toward the liquor store’s back door as it opens. A gorgeous blonde steps out, and I wish I had the time to appreciate her beauty, but she’s about to die. Carlos and his men draw their guns and pivot toward her. My men pull their weapons too, but we keep them pointed at the Mexicans. The woman stands like a deer in the headlights for a second before ducking behind the industrial garbage dumpster like a frightened rabbit. Three shots hit the metal almost at the same moment. That’s all it takes for my men and me. The two bodyguards standing with me aim for a guard each, and I set my sights on Carlos. We squeeze our triggers, and the men fall. Screeching tires tell me Carlos’s driver takes off. I hear more gunshots as at least one soldier in my cars tries to shoot the escaping vehicle. Glass shatters, but the sedan keeps going. I hear more tires squeal as one of my SUVs takes off and