Arranged Mafia Marriage

“And here I thought Xander would be the first to get married, considering he’s had a lifelong crush on Theresa.” Massimo leans forward on the balls of his feet.

“Hey,” Xander protests, “I don’t have a crush on her.”

“Oh, please,” Christian scoffs, “whenever you see her you go all googly-eyed.”

“Googly-eyed?” Xander sputters, “What does that even mean?”

“Why is it that the two of you still squabble like you are ten?” I rub the back of my neck.

“Guess they never grew up, unlike you, Mika,” Massimo smirks, “though I can’t help but think that London’s polluted air got to you. Maybe that’s why you decided to get married?”

“You may have a point, ” Christian turns to Massimo. “Think we need to call the doctor to have him checked out?”

“Fuck off, testa di cazzo,” I growl.

“Oooh,” Christian mock shivers, “I am so afraid.”

“I am your Capo, dumbass,” I say mildly, “better show me some respect, or I’ll be asking for your pinky finger next.”

“Sometimes,” Luca sighs, “you sound like an actor from a bad Hollywood Mafia movie.”

“I don’t watch movies.”

“More’s the pity.” He looks me up and down, “If you did, you’d know that your story has the makings of a chick flick.”

“A chick flick?”

“A romantic comedy,” he clarifies, “where the hero and the heroine meet and are attracted to each other, only to realize-”

“I know what a romantic comedy is,” I say dryly.

“Do you now?” Christian pretends to do a double take. “Next you’ll be telling me that you are in love.”

I laugh, “Good one.” I smirk. “I see you’ve been polishing up your comedic skills.”

“And you’re going to have to polish up your role as a husband.”

“Only until I get an heir.” I raise a shoulder.

“Surely, there are fringe benefits,” Xander murmurs. “Who’s the lucky woman, by the way?”

“Someone none of you know.”

“Fantastico.” Christian rubs his hands, “Is she so beautiful that you don’t want us to meet her before the wedding?”

“Yes, she is, and no, that’s not the reason I don’t want you to meet her before the big day. It’s purely because she is currently unaware that’s the plan I have in store for her.”

“So, you what, kidnapped her?” He fixes me with his shrewd gaze, “What else are you not telling us, Michael?”

“I am telling you everything you need to know at this stage.”

“You know that, as your lawyer, I do need to know everything, if I am supposed to help you on this in the future.”

“And what makes you think I will be needing your help on this?”

He laughs, “You and I both know that almost everything you do needs my expert touch to steer it along at some point.”

“Don’t remind me.” I scowl.

“Not that I am not grateful for it.”

“You better be.” I glower at all three of my younger siblings, “It’s why I gave you three roles in which you didn’t have to get your hands dirty.” Massimo’s my lawyer, Christian takes care of our finances, and Alessandro? He’s the artist among us. My youngest brother-he’s younger than Christian by two minutes, has the softest heart, the face of a fallen angel, and the talent of a Renaissance artist.

The joke among us growing up had been that he should have been called Michaelangelo, not me-the oldest, the most cynical brother, on whom the responsibility falls to keep the family business going. One way or the other, though, all of us have our lives intertwined with the firm. Once you’re born into a Mafia family, really, there’s no way out, particularly for the males. Even if you are as prodigiously talented as Xander, who paints masterpieces… We use his growing fame in the art world to identify potential new targets we can kidnap and hold for ransom in return, not for money-that would be too crass-but for influence, power, and the ability to infiltrate governments and those in the higher echelons of power. It had long ago ceased to be about wealth. Our focus now is to build up our network, to ensure we have the means to influence governments and heads of organizations.

“And I, for one, am grateful that I don’t need to be directly involved with the day-to-day business,” Massimo murmurs.

“Enough to back me up in what I am going to say next?”

“Which is?”

“That you support my wedding and the consolidation with the other families that I am aiming for.”

“But that’s not the only reason you are marrying her, is it?”

Luca and I exchange glances. Massimo has always been quick on the uptake. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s too smart a lawyer and very good at what he does, which is to ensure that my men don’t land in prison, I’d have him more involved in the strategizing and planning of our operations.

It helps that our parents had sent all seven of us-including Seb and Adrian-to the US to receive top-class education. It’s what came of having a mother who was American. Although, the way she’d taken to the Mafia way of life, and subsumed herself in the old ways, you’d often forget that she was Texan by birth.

“Well?” Massimo scowls, “What’s behind this sudden rush to marry? What kind of alliance are you actually seeking through it?”

“It’s something Luca and I talked over before you got here.”

“Good thing, then, that I got in here before you spilled all your secrets.” A new voice interrupts me. I turn to watch Adrian my half-brother, and only one of the two other people outside of my immediate family whom I trust, walk in. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” I murmur. “Now, all that’s needed is for Sebastian-asshole-Sovrano to join us and-”

“Someone mention my name?” Seb walks into the room and I groan. I walk over to the bar, seize the whiskey bottle and top up my glass.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Drinking alone, stronzo?” Seb prowls over to the bar. He bypasses the bottle on the counter, to walk around to the other side. Then, he bends down, and when he straightens, he holds a bottle of only my most expensive whiskey. He opens it, then snatches a glass and is about to pour when I caution him.

“That will cost you, testa di cazzo,” I growl.

“Why? Aren’t celebrations in order?” He smirks, “I am just getting started, is all.”

Of course, he’d overheard our previous conversation.

“Eavesdropping again, fratellastro?” I address him by the Italian word for stepbrother, hoping it will irk him, but this time, he doesn’t take the bait.

“The door was open, fratellastro.” He smirks.

“Why are you here anyway?” I glower at him.

“Family meeting.” He glances around the space, “Surely, you didn’t think I would stay away.”

“You weren’t invited.”

“I am here now, aren’t I?” He pours liquor into a tumbler, then grabs five more and places them on the table. He proceeds to top them up. With my whiskey. Mine.

A growl rumbles up my chest.

He fills up the glasses, then glances around the assembled faces. “What, no one joining in the festivities?”

Next to me, Luca shifts restlessly. “Seb…” he warns, but I throw up a hand.

“No, let him be. He’s right, after all.”

“He is?” Luca glances between us, his gaze wary. Seb and I don’t agree on much. It’s not only because he is the closest in age to me, older than even Luca, while being my stepbrother. My father had had a mistress, a woman much younger than him who had borne him two sons. When she had died in an accident, he had brought Seb and Adrian over to our house. Seb had been five, and Adrian only three when my father had asked my mother to take them in and take care of them. She hadn’t refused. Whatever her thoughts were about the situation, she had kept them to herself. But she’d had a big heart, and not once, had she allowed Seb or Adrian to feel like they weren’t her own sons. But while Adrian had bonded with us instantly, Seb is… one of us and yet, he isn’t. Maybe because he was older than Adrian when he joined us, so it was more difficult for him to adjust to living with us. Or perhaps, he is conscious of the fact that he grew up dependent on us. And then there’s the fact that he is my father’s bastard son, which means my father will never accept him as the next Don. Something he resents, even as he acknowledges that he couldn’t have survived without us.

“You are part of the family, Seb,” I murmur. “You always have been.”

“Just not good enough to ever have a chance at becoming the Don, though?”

“There is only one Capo,” I lower my voice to a hush, “and that’s me.”

He raises his glass. “To the wedding of the one and only Capo,” he says in a voice which sounds sincere. Testa di cazzo! Not that he means it.

I move forward and tip some of the alcohol into my glass. The others crowd around the bar as each of them reaches for their own glass and raises it.

“To the Capo,” Luca fixes his gaze on mine, “and to the alliance with the Seven.”

“The Seven?” Seb turns to me, “That’s who your new bride is related to?”

I tilt my head, “Is that a problem?”

He scratches his chin, “Amongst them all, they own most of the UK and parts of Silicon Valley too, I hear.” He fixes his gaze on me, “Ambitious, are we?”

“Disbelieving, are we?”

“It’s not my life, fratellone.” He raises a shoulder. “And I assume this has to do with getting access to enough connections to consolidate your position with the other families?”

Seb really is smart. As intelligent as Massimo, as hungry as Luca, with the rakish charm of Christian and the beauty of Xander…

All of it, rolled into one ambitious, cynical, man who’d do anything to take over as Capo one day. It’s what makes Seb so dangerous, and yet also, the one with the most promise. It’s why he’s the only one of all my family who can stand up to me. Precisely why I trust him the least and kept him as close as I can. The only way to keep track of someone who poses a threat to you is to keep them in your inner circle.

Do I trust Seb? That’s an interesting question. I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt my family, but given the right motivation and circumstances, could he turn on me?

“So,” Christian glances between us, “when do we get to meet your new bride?”

“At the wedding,” I murmur

“What?” Xander blinks. “We don’t get to meet her before?”

“No.”

“Don’t you trust us with her?” Massimo drawls.

“Never.” I fold my arms across my chest.

“Aww shucks.” Seb smirks. “The way you’re acting, you’d think you have her hidden away here and want us to get the hell away so you can spend time with her.”

I glare at him and a look of understanding dawns on his features, “So you do have her here with you?”

Of course, Seb would have to figure it out. Not that I am hiding anything from them or anything. “And if I do?”

“‘Sto cazzo!” Seb exclaims. “Why, you old coot, you kidnapped her and brought her here, eh?”

“Fuck off,” I growl.

“You did, didn’t you?”

I glare at him. Asshat is seriously getting on my nerves.

He places his elbows on the bar, and leans forward, “Was it love at first sight?” He smirks, “You saw her and it was the proverbial colpo di fulmine?” He’s referring to the thunderbolt that Italians use as a term for describing love at first sight. Like most things, my people are prone to exaggeration. Hence, love at first sight needs to be described literally as being unexpected and as powerful as a lightning strike.

I snort. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’ve experienced it yourself, the way you talk passionately about it.”

“Me?” Seb laughs, the sound without mirth, “Would I be standing here if I had?”

I peer into his features, take in the tightness of the skin around his eyes, the slight slump to his shoulders, which is a surprise. I’ve never seen Seb anything but on the offensive. Apparently, the testa di cazzo has his share of secrets. Something I intend to worm out of him someday. Just not right now.

One thing he’s right about… I am anxious to meet with my bride-to-be, but not for any of the reasons he thinks. Fucking her is out of the question, at least, until the wedding. On that much, I am clear. There, however, remains the task of breaking the news to her… Something I need to mull over. I need to figure out a way to get her to willingly agree. This entire plan which I had hatched on the spur of the moment is, clearly, more complicated than I expected.

But how hard could it be, anyway, to get her to see things my way, hmm?

I place the glass back on the bar counter, then step back, “I am sure you can see yourselves out.”

I shut down the camera, then turn to leave.

Seb chuckles. “So anxious to see your woman?” he calls after me.

“Vaffanculo,” I hold up a middle finger above my shoulder, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“Everything you do is our business,” he retorts. “Considering you’re the Capo… Capo.”

I pause, turn to glare at him over my shoulder, “It’s because I am Capo, I am asking you for the first and last time to never talk about her, capisci?”

I hold his gaze, and he finally lowers it. Good. Seb may be as alpha as they come, but he knows I am the one in charge. And I intend to be for a long time. If he thinks he can displace me from my hard-won position, he has another think coming. No doubt, one day, he is going to challenge me, too. I know that as well as I know my name… It’s why the next move I make is going to be very important, one on which hinges the future of me and my famiglia.”I am leaving, and when I return, I want the lot of you to have cleared out.” I glance around the faces of my siblings, “You feel me?”