Chapter 30 THE MARTINI DELUCA FAMILY
The Authors' POV
Meanwhile, Rafael who had been invited by the host of the party Morano DeLuca to an underground basement right under the banquet hall for the business deal arrived with a few of his men who latched on to a crate.
Once they had reached the door of the basement, they were apprehended by two men who were guarding the door like their lives depended on it.
“What business do you have here? The party is upstairs. Go away!” One of the bulky men spoke, his bass voice roughly trimmed and heavy.
His teeth were crooked so was there a knife cut right under his left eye which stretched down to his chin.
Rafael found their manner of approach demeaning, but he decided to let it slide, after all, no good could come out of nitpicking.
“I'm here to speak with your boss— Morano DeLuca.” Rafael replied.
“Do you have an invitation?” The man asked again, his expression filled with stir cleared irritation like he could bully the men standing before him.
“This business is based on summoning.”
The bulky man looked at his partner and they both exchanged a knowing look and agreed over a nod without a word slipping out of their mouths.
“What's the code?” The bulky man asked with a tut, folding his arms like he was the boss.
Rafael had suddenly grown impatient, tired of the guard's unending questions which were almost a deliberate attempt to ride on his nerves, but he had to be patient with the men since he was the one who had a business offer to make to their boss— Morano DeLuca.
He had not received any code nor was he informed about the scrutiny he would meet at the door.
With an unforgiving cold glint exuded in his eyes, Rafael simply said, “Remember the name Santiago Rafael Devereaux.”
The men were seized up at the mention of the name Santiano Rafael Devereaux and they didn't think twice before they quickly got the door opened, almost falling to their feet as they bowed to Rafael to make an entrance.
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Rafael and his men were ushered into the room behind the door with their heads still tendered in a bow.
The room was a makeshift warehouse which was dimly lit and it reeked of aged oak and smoke, a familiar scent that filled Rafael's nostrils as he stepped into the Martini DeLuca's family makeshift tasting room.
The room was filled with more men who look nothing less menacing and crude like Rafael's men.
The look on their faces seemed to bear an endearing rage at Rafael the moment he walked in. Some of the men swatted around a table, playing a knife game before their arrival and they all stopped to give him a dirty look that was gleaming yet it felt like a death stare.
Some began to pop the trapped bubbles in their knuckles as if they were preparing for a fist fight, but none of this got to Rafael— not even a gaze could graze his skin.
To the left, a man was seated by a table. He was assembling a pistol, slowly inserting a silencer to the tip with his eyes locked on Rafael that he began to wonder what type of game they were trying to play with him.
Get him giddled up and scared?
‘Pathetic!’ He laughed in his thoughts.
Rafael chuckled, but before he could move further, another man sprung out of nowhere.
He had an eye patch to his right eye and he breathed some words into Rafael's face. His breath stank so badly. It was a mixture of brute alcohol and tobacco.
“Coat, guns,” He demanded.
A slight scoff escaped Rafael's throat, but he didn't grumble. He pulled off his coat and handed over his gun.
His men also did the same, throwing the same nasty look they had been welcomed with at the men on the Morano DeLuca's turf.
The tension in the warehouse was so intense that if a pin could fall out of nowhere into the silence, the next minute, there would be a blood bath between both turfs.
When Rafael and his men had been fully searched, the array of men lined up at the center of the room began to disseminate into columns which finally revealed Morano DeLuca— sat at a wooden table that has just been drizzled with fresh blood and finely chopped fingers while the old man poured himself some whiskey.
Beside him were two men, one was seated to his left. He had a briefcase slightly opened in front of him and he had a timid look which was masked by the boring glasses he wore.
Rafael assumed him to be Morano DeLuca's legal representative— his consiglier The other man whose face was barely visible as he was standing out of the dim light seemed to be ignoring Rafael's presence in the room deliberately, chiseling a broken finger with a pocket knife.
Rafael couldn't make much of his face as he was turned to the side, so he decided to wait for the appropriate time.
Morano DeLuca was the godfather of the Martini DeLuca family. He was a man assumed to be in his early 70’s yet he still was a very vibrant man both in business deals and family wars.
He commanded respect among other prestigious Mafia families and their family was one of the families considered to be on par with the Devereaux family, but the already signed truce against family wars if clash has put these families at peace for more than five decades.
They were well known to be as ruthless and unforgiving as the Devereaux family and nothing gets past them. Crossing a member of the family was said to be an equal to death and with their affluence vast spread across Italy and other bordering nations, the Martini DeLuca family were held on high record.
“Santiano Rafael Devereaux, welcome to our humble abode.” Morano DeLuca said, his voice as smooth as the whiskey he had poured earlier.