First Comes Blood by Lilith Vincent

4

Cassius

Ten at fucking night, I haven’t had the rest of my dinner and I haven’t been promised a wife. What the hell am I still doing at the mayor’s house?

I take a swig of the whisky I helped myself to after Chiara stormed out of the dining room like a brat. The swimming pool glows blue-white and the garden is studded with lights. I’ve spotted half a dozen staff. Everything in this house is expensive. It’s only acceptable to raise a family like this if they understand that this privilege comes at a cost, and the cost is doing what you’re fucking told.

A figure in white walks along the edge of the pool, a sparkling tiara nestled in her golden hair. The chiffon clings to her slender body. I watch her, the taste of the whisky lingering in my mouth. Chiara will look good on my arm as I walk into one of my clubs. She’ll be delicious spread out on my bed. I love a small woman that I can completely engulf with my size, and her delicate beauty will look even better when her face is streaked with tears.

But perhaps this would be easier if she were plain. Beautiful women who know they’re beautiful are a pain in the fucking ass. As my eyes follow her, though, I can’t be sorry that Chiara Romano is utterly delectable. I put my whisky down and straighten my tie. She’ll just require more correction.

I stand at the far end of the pool with my hands in my trouser pockets. Chiara’s so lost in thought that she almost walks right into my chest. She pulls up short with a gasp.

Recovering herself, she asks, “Have you got something for me, too?”

I don’t like her tone. It’s bordering on sassy. “Why? Do you suppose you’ve earned a present from me?”

Chiara shrugs, her face a picture of unhappiness. “It’s my birthday. Salvatore gave me this.” She touches the necklace at her throat that’s heavy with glistening stones.

Of course he gave her diamonds. Lavish gifts and vicious threats, that’s his style.

“Vinicius gave me advice.”

I laugh softly. “Let me guess. Trust no one? Definitely don’t trust him. You can tell he’s lying because his lips are moving.”

Speaking of lips, Chiara’s are swollen. Who’s been kissing her, Salvatore again? No, probably Vinicius as part of his games.

“Why do you all want me, anyway?”

She’s not my wife yet. I wonder how best to play this. Perhaps after her chat with Vinicius she’d respond best to honesty. “Your father is a powerful man. He’s useful to us.”

Chiara flinches. “But I don’t want to marry any of you.”

Maybe not, but a woman in her position doesn’t get to choose her husband. She doesn’t get the luxury of a love match. She’ll perform her duty and say thank you for the privilege of serving her family and her husband.

My daughters, when I have them, will be raised to understand this from birth. This seventeen-year-old girl needs to be taught a lesson.

I reach out and stroke my thumb over her cheek. “What a night you’ve had. This must be so hard for you.”

She looks up in surprise, and her face softens. “Um, yes. It’s been a strange day.”

I go to an outdoor five-seater sofa nestled between some palm trees and sit down. “The others will screw with you for fun. I don’t do that.”

“That’s reassuring. I like to know where I stand.”

She gazes at me boldly, without even calling me Mr. Ferragamo or sir. Such lack of discipline. A proper mafia daughter wouldn’t dare behave this way around the man she’s hoping to marry. Her mother at least seems to know her place.

I pat the sofa cushion next to me. “Come here. I don’t bite.”

“I want to go inside.”

I sigh. “This is an opportunity, Chiara. Behaving like a child won’t get you anywhere.

She hesitates, and then sits down, but not where I indicated. She’s two feet out of reach. It takes all my willpower not to grab her by the hair and drag her closer, and growl in her face. You sit where I tell you, and if you disobey me one more time, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life.

I force my shoulders against the back of the sofa to appear relaxed, extending my arm along the seat. “You seem tense, bambina. Relax. I only want to talk to you.” I make my voice deep and affectionate. There, there, little girl. Did the bad men scare you?

“Are you a criminal?” she asks. “I know inside you said you weren’t, but I just want to understand what’s happening tonight.”

Her insolence knows no bounds. I stare at her for a full minute, watching the light reflected off the water moving over her face. “Yes. But it’s business, not pleasure. I’ll follow the law until it gets in my way.”

“How often does it get in your way?”

All the fucking time. “Now and then.”

Chiara watches me with a straight back, her eyes luminous. She has a surprising amount of poise for a seventeen-year-old girl. Like she thinks she’s going to get out of this. That she’s going to say no, she won’t marry any of us, and we and her father will leave her be.

So much confidence. So very stupid.

Adjusting the slender watch on her wrist, she says, “Thank you for your honesty.”

You trusting little fool. Did you not listen to a word Vinicius said? “Games are for children.”

“Are you all good friends?”

She’s trying to figure us out. How she might play us against each other. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”

Our lives are so closely knitted into each other’s that it would be impossible to separate them. I know each of them even better than I know myself. We have something stronger than friendship. Stronger than ambition, or blood.

Loyalty.

We learned the hard way that we’re stronger together, and we always will be. Chiara will learn in time what that means for her, to be at the behest of all of us.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Older than the others. I guess they’re around twenty-eight or so?”

“Give or take a year.”

Chiara draws a little closer to me. “I don’t imagine you’d want to marry me. I’m still in school. Schoolgirls must be so annoying to grown men.” She flashes me a smile and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

This is an unexpected surprise. She’s trying to charm me.

“Is there any way you could speak to my father about how ridiculous this is? I feel like he might listen to another man even if he won’t listen to me. Being promised to much older strangers when I’m only seventeen…”

She gives a little shiver. Quite the actress, this one.

“You’re scared, bambina?”

She looks up at me with those big, doll-like eyes, and nods.

“Do you know what I do?” I ask her.

Chiara hesitates, seeming surprised by my change of subject. “You run nightclubs.”

“And?”

“And…strip clubs.” Even saying that makes her blush. “Why do you ask?”

I shake my head, as if to say, No reason. The little idiot knows what I do and yet hasn’t realized that I have beautiful women trying to twist me around their little fingers all day long.

I turn a little toward her, mirroring her body language and resting my temple against my fist. “And what do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

I smile at her. “It’s not a trick. Who are you? What makes you happy?”

“Well,” she begins slowly, “I’m still in school, so that takes up most of my time. I’m not sure what else you’d like to know. Please don’t take offence to this, but you’re nearly twice my age and I don’t think there’s much we have in common.”

“It’s a warm night. You’re a beautiful girl. Humor me.”

Chiara glances down into her lap and then up at me through her lashes. A jolt goes through me. Fuck, that was cute. She’s putting it on, trying to seem even more innocent than she is without realizing it’s the most enticing thing she could do for me. If she does this in front of Scava he’ll eat her alive. That would be a shame, as there’d be nothing left for the rest of us.

“What would you like to know?”

“What’s it like being the mayor’s daughter?”

She smiles in relief. “Oh, that. I can talk about that. I don’t remember not being the mayor’s daughter. Dad’s been Mayor of Coldlake since I was five years old. Most of the time I don’t notice it unless Dad’s campaigning and he needs Mom and me with him on stage with him at rallies, or when someone recognizes me in the street. Or if someone starts acting differently when they find out my name.”

“Different how?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Sucking up, mostly. Flattering me because they want something. I don’t like to be treated differently just because of who I am.”

Don’t worry, bambina. We’ll treat you exactly how you deserve.

The next election is next year, not long after Chiara turns eighteen. Mayor Romano will undoubtedly want our help influencing people how to vote. I wonder if he realizes his daughter won’t be all we’ll ask for in exchange.

She won’t be a wife. She’ll be our hostage. If he doesn’t do what he’s told, he’ll get her back in pieces.

“Your father’s a determined man. It’s going to be difficult for you to change his mind.”

“Just about impossible,” she agrees, nodding her head.

“You need someone to protect you.”

Chiara stops nodding, and I can see her mind racing. Protector is too much like husband.

“A friend,” I offer with a smile, and she relaxes once more.

Yes, aren’t I warm and approachable. Don’t I make you feel safe in this big scary world? I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “The others gave you a birthday present. I’ve got something for you too, and it’s better than diamonds. Better than advice.”

“Oh? What is it?”

I crook my finger, beckoning her closer. She doesn’t want to approach, but I take a quick glance around as if I’m worried about us being overheard. The idea that what I’m about to say is just for her and not the others is too enticing, and Chiara slides in closer. She’s right next to me now and I can appreciate the beauty of her face and the swell of her breasts in her delicate white gown. It will take weeks of correction to turn Chiara into a proper Ferragamo woman once she’s mine. I can’t wait another year while she develops more bad habits.

I reach for her hand, and puzzled, she places hers in mine, probably expecting me to give it a pat or slip a bracelet onto her wrist.

Instead, I grip her hand so tight that she gasps and pull her across my lap. She splayed over my thighs before she can even yelp and I hold her in place with a hand on her lower back.

“What are you doing? Let me go!”

I grab her skirt and drag it up. Chiara starts fighting, but it’s not getting her anywhere. She’s wearing a small, flesh-colored G-string with her dress that accentuates the plump curves of her ass.

Chiara inhales, preparing to call for help.

I grab her hair, pulling it tight in my fist. “If you scream, I’ll make you fucking sorry. Have you forgotten who we are, Chiara? Do you think we’re here to spoil you, like your parents? Or remind you gently about your duty? We kill people for merely inconveniencing us. You’re lucky you’re still seventeen because otherwise, you’d already be fucking dead.”

“Please let me go. I didn’t do anything,” she whispers, her voice shaking with unshed tears.

“You talk back. You disrespect your parents. You disrespect us most of all.” I let go of her hair, flex my hand and raise it. I’m going to enjoy this. Her tender ass is plump and bright in the darkness.

Chiara twists around and looks up at me. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding you of your duty. Your loyalty is to your father for now, but soon it will be to us. When you become my wife, I’ll expect you to obey my orders without question.”

I land a hard spank on her ass. Chiara yelps, and my hand tingles. There’s a perfect red handprint on her ass, and her thighs are spread as she struggles to get away from me.

Beneath her, my cock thickens. The urge to keep going is strong. I want to make her a panting, crying mess and hear her swear to anything I ask for just to make it end. All I crave in this second is that heavenly sight.

But she’s not my wife.

Not my wife yet.

I release her, and she slithers from my lap onto the ground at my feet. “That’s just a taste of what you deserve. By your eighteenth birthday, you better have learned what it means to take your place by our sides. Whichever one of us marries you, we all expect the same obedience.”

I stand up and straighten my tie, glancing toward the dining room. I wonder if anyone’s bothered to serve the main course.

Chiara sits at my feet, her chiffon gown pooling over my leather shoes. Her head’s down and her shoulders are shaking.

Pathetic. I barely touched her.

“We all have different ways of making you obey. You think I’ve humiliated you, but this is nothing to what the others are capable of. I sincerely hope you’ve learned your lesson tonight. Happy birthday, Chiara.”