The Alpha Mafia King
Chapter 12

It was in the middle of the night, and Alonso had just found Taleela unconscious in his kitchen before taking her into her bedroom and laying her gently on the bed. She began to regain consciousness, and he went back into the kitchen to get her fruit juice or water, whichever she preferred. Earlier, he had seen two drawings very bizarre sets of pictures of him and her.

One was of him kissing her, which he found disgusting. And the other was him kneeling in front of her, and his face was buried in her p***y. He made a grimacing face and thought, not even in her wildest dreams!

He made sure to keep the drawing pad in the position he had found it to avoid her giving him unnecessary guilty looks. He was used to women fantasizing about him.

He knocked once to alert her then he entered the room. “What is it with you and people replaceing you unconscious?” Alonso said, setting the tray of juice and bottled water on her lap.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Don’t start getting any ideas,” he declared, turning to leave.

“Hey, wait, please!”

“What is it?” he asked without looking back.

“Hmm, never mind,” she said, suddenly losing the will to go on, and he scoffed.

Taleela drank the bottle of water to rehydrate herself. She opened her drawer and also got a bar of chocolate to eat. She then took note of her drawing pad and froze. She wondered if he had seen it, but she doubted that because he did not react.

She finished her chocolate bar, tucked it in between her bed and the bed stand. She slid into the comfy bed, and then her head was buried softly into the pillow, reducing the headache she was feeling. She closed her eyes, envisioning Alonso bringing her back into her room, and she thought about fainting more often.

Alonso refrained from going to the poolside; instead, he went to the minibar and poured himself one of Vladimir’s favorites.

He was thinking about a friend, possibly suited to replace consigliere. His name was Piccolo Durante, but everyone called him Pico. He was a trained student of his late father, Karlow. He was a friend of the young Alonso years ago. Piccolo’s father, Basil Icarus Durante, was a friend of Alonso’s dad. From what Alonso could recall, Piccolo’s dad had been his father’s consigliere.

When Callisto broke out from their pack, De Sina pack, he had offered Piccolo’s father the chance to join his pack, the Clocasian pack, but he refused. After Calisto watches Alonso’s father die, he kills Piccolo’s father, fearing that he might retaliate for his friend. Piccolo and his mother fled to Greece in fear for their own lives. After the whole alpha incident and a few years after coming to Italy, Alonso sent for Piccolo.

“I want to avenge my father,” Piccolo had said to him that morning in his car, on phone conversation.

“And so do I, Pico,” Alonso said. “But Callisto is a cunning, two-faced killer, and he’s astute and very calculative. Any wrong move will result in more bloodshed. It’s best to leave revenge alone.

Alonso thinks about their phone conversation early this morning.

“What’s on your mind?” Mazza asked, making Alonso wake from his temporary trance.

Alonso stared at him disbelievingly. Mazza seldom missed his sleep. “I was thinking about Pico,” he answered.

“Ah-ha! That’s one name I haven’t heard in years,” Mazza said, pulling out a stool, sitting on it.

“Yeah, we’ve kept our relationship strictly on the phone,” Alonso said. “And now I think that it is time I summon him.”

“Let me guess,” Mazza said, looking thoughtful. “You wish to replace Vladimir with him?”

“Yes, I do,” Alonso answered. “He should have been him all along, but you chose Vladimir.”

His grandfather’s brow raised in the inquisition, and he said, “Did I choose wrongly?”

“Of course not! It’s just that Piccolo would have been more durable,” Alonso said. By durable, he meant immune to inevitable deaths because he was a werewolf too.

“And Piccolo himself? Was he ready at the time? I seem to recall his mother wanted him as far away from the pack’s business as possible.”

“Yeah, but times have changed since then,” Alonso argued. “Piccolo would love nothing more than to assume his rightful place at my side, both as beta and consigliere.”

“I’m not arguing, son,” Mazza said. “I don’t want you to think Vladimir’s death is on you. He knew our secret both as werewolves and as a Mafia family, and yet he chose to be of service to us of his own volition.”

“Sure he did that, and I’m grateful,” Alonso said, taking a sip from his wine. “Why are you not asleep?”

“I fear if I sleep tonight, I might not wake up,” Mazza said, jokingly but Alonso took it to heart.

“Don’t mention that word around me, granddad,” he pronounced.

“It’s inevitable, grandson,” Mazza replied, tapping him. “We’ll all be buried someday.”

“Yeah, but that day is still very far from us, granddad,” said Alonso. “Uh, I found Taleela unconscious on the kitchen floor, but she regained consciousness after I took her to her room, and she seemed alright.”

“Seemed!” Mazza said, scowling and rising. “I need to go check on her right away.”

Alonso gave an evil laugh. “Granddad, she’s a pervert, that one. You should beware! She might draw you sucking her clit.”

“You’re drunk! I won’t blame you for saying nonsense,” Mazza said, grimacing. He turned to leave, and Alonso sighed softly.

He finished the remainder of his wine and got up. Yeah, with the way his legs were feeling wobbly, he knew his granddad was right, and he felt indeed drunk. He thought that he was funnily climbing up the stairs.

He held onto the railings for extra support. He felt along the way, Vladimir, you son of a bitch, how do you drink so much and still stay composed? Ha! Finally, he got to his door.

—

Mariyanna Makarov received words that her father and Dimitri had passed on to the afterlife. She flew to Russia the next day. There was a hasty burial arranged for them both, and she got down to the real reason that had brought her to Russia.

Precisely, her father’s will. As suspected, everything had been willed on to Alyona, her sister. Alyona was even acting as the Don when Ivan, her dad, was still alive. He had been preparing her for taking over. Well, with everyone out of the way, she was going to take over.

—

It was a beautiful morning in Italy. The sun claimed possession of the sky, and Alonso claimed possession of his office chair. He called Piccolo Durante.

“Hello, Alonso!” Piccolo said with his baritone intonation. “It’s been a while since you called out of the blue.”

“Pico, how soon can you come to Italy?” Alonso said, skipping the small talks. “We have much to discuss. Vladimir is dead. I would have asked you to come for the burial, but it was urgent.”

“I’m sorry, Alonso,” Piccolo stated. “I’ll need time to pack and say goodbye to my mother. I should be able to get to Italy in three days.”

“Thank you, my friend,” said Alonso, ending the call.

He got up to go and check the production department for the chemicals and arsenal where the machine guns were stored. On his way, he ran into Eureka in the lobby.

“Hello, Mr. Alonso,” she said, acting formally because of his workers.

“Eureka, you didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said, groaning.

“I know, and to be sincere, I didn’t even know I’ll be coming,” she lied.

Alonso knew she was lying. He could detect the change in her heartbeat. They went back into his office.

“How did the advertisement for chemical Zeta go?” Alonso asked, sitting in one of the chairs reserved for visitors. Eureka sat next to him.

“You know, I helped make everything a killing!” Eureka boasted. “But baby, we still need your trademark and approval.”

“Stop reiterating that. You know it’s never going to happen, Eureka,” Alonso said.

“Baby, I’ve been feeling very concerned about that Taleela girl,” Eureka said. “You said she’s a worker, but I don’t like the way your granddad treats her very nicely. I have someone who can work for you. She’s about the same age as Lady Tanya, and she’s more efficient than that little scum.”

Alonso tensed.

“I never infringe on people’s choices,” Alonso said. “Don’t infringe on mine; well, it wasn’t necessarily my decision to have her working for us but my granddad’s. Whichever, you get the whole idea. She’s staying not because I want her to.”

“Oh, so you’re saying she’s working for your granddad,” Eureka said with a wry smile. “Mazza should be feeling too old for such a lady, but anyways I guess the Marcovic manhood is still powerful, even when they get to old age.”

“Haha, very funny,” Alonso remarked dryly.

“You’re so grumpy,” Eureka said, hitting him on the laps and rubbing up against his thighs seductively.

He caught her hand midway to his p***s and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m flirting with you, of course,” she replied, and he let go of her hand.

“Don’t flirt with me. I’m not in the mood,” he said briefly.

“Right right, so what mood are you in right now?” she asked.

“It’s time to leave. Come on now, Eureka!” he said, pulling her up. “I have plenty of work to do.”

She tapped the bridge of his nose. “I’m coming over so that you know,” she said as he gently pushed her out of his office.

Alonso considered it; he was only going to agree because he needed her as a means of distraction until his friend Piccolo arrived.

” Fine, but we are not having s*x,” he whispered fiercely.

“No s*x?!” she questioned in a grimacing manner. “Okay, sure, we can manage that, I’m sure.”

“I can but, can you?” Alonso challenged.

“Definitely,” she sneered. “Alonso, you do know that I’ll be spending three nights, right?”

Alonso realized it was a Friday. “You’re leaving on Sunday morning,” he said determinedly.

“Alright, fine!” She turned on her heels and began to march out, wiggling her butt as she did.

Alonso went to the production department as earlier planned. His workers greeted him, and he responded cheerfully. He encouraged them to keep going and also found out from them if there were encountering any challenges, to which they replied no. He checked out the arsenal and made sure the machine guns were clean.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly at the office. They recently made a sale of twenty million to a reputable arms dealer. Money was pouring in, but yet Alonso felt unsatisfied; oddly enough, he felt something was amiss in his life. It got even weirder to think that it was because he did not have a mate.

He strolled around the premises, just checking in on everyone, even the cleaners. As he did, he remembered his promise to Omega Juno, who he had asked to check back with him in three days, or was it a week? He was unsure, but Bianco would remember, and he knew he would get feedback on that later.

Men like Callisto Beaumont deserved not to live, yet the man lived. He had rendered many children fatherless, and even now, Alonso heard of the man’s doings. He became a hitman machine for billionaires. His phone was ringing, and he answered it.

“Hello, Vincenzo,” said Alonso pausing in his track.

“Hello Don, I heard what happened, and I called to offer my condolences,” Vincenzo said.

“Yeah yeah, sure, thanks!”

“I was wondering if I could return to Italy since Ivan is dead.”

“Yes, you can,” said Alonso, feeling surprised that he had not already sent for him.

“Thank you, boss.”

“Yeah.”

After the call, he got a tingling sensation. There was a —but, in Vladimir’s last talk with him. There was something else that was not right. Maybe the Makarov family had something on him that he did not know.

Well, he was someone who was always on guard, so he had nothing to fear. Plus, he was a supernatural being.