Mafia King by L. Steele

26

Michael

I glance down at the dagger protruding from my chest, then up at her. The train of her black dress streams behind her. Her hair flows about her shoulders. She raises the dagger and the blood—my blood drips from her fingers. Her green eyes blaze at me, the look in them triumphant and stricken, at the same time. I hold her gaze, and in the depths of her eyes, I see myself reflected. I reach for her and she holds out her hand—the one without the dagger. Our fingers touch, cling together. Her lips part and my gaze drops to her mouth. The redness of her lipstick matches the scarlet that runs down the blade of the dagger.

"Beauty," I whisper, "what have you done?"

"I…" she swallows, "I didn’t have a choice… I didn’t mean to—" Her shoulders shudder. "I—"

Her beautiful features sway in front of my eyes. Black spots flicker at the sides of my vision. My knees seem to give way from under me.

I hear her scream and her fingers tighten around mine. The dagger slips from her fingers and clatters to the ground. The world tilts. Arms grab me from behind, and I shake them off. I steady myself, glance past her to find my brothers crowding in around us.

Sebastian reaches for her and I growl, "Don’t fucking touch her."

I glance over their shocked faces until my gaze connects with Luca’s. I glare at him, then lower my gaze to her face, then back to him. He nods. And a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding leaves me. I take in her pale features, her green eyes pooling with tears that run down her cheeks. I raise my palm, brush away the moisture on her delicate features.

"Shh," I bare my teeth at her, "you didn’t think that I would die that easily did you?"

I tear at the front of the shirt and my buttons bounce to the floor. I glance down at the bleeding cut, then back at her. "You barely broke the skin," I drawl. "Seems I am going to not only discipline you but also instruct you on how to use weapons."

"Fuck you." Her chin wobbles, "I managed to hurt you. In my books, that’s a win."

"You barely wounded me. You showed your cards too soon, Beauty."

Her breath heaves.

"I am afraid I am going to enjoy teaching you your place."

She stiffens. "You can go to hell," she snaps.

"Only if you’ll come with me. Now that we are husband and wife, and all that."

"Fuck your sham of a marriage."

"It was very real, mia cara," I smile at her broadly, "don’t forget you still wear my ring."

She raises her left hand then begins to struggle with the ring on her finger. "Shit, shit, shit," she snarls, "it won’t come off."

"Of course, not." I smirk, "You didn’t think I was going to leave anything to chance, did you?" I drum my fingers on my thigh, in part to distract from the pain in my chest. "It’s half a size smaller, easy to push onto the finger, much more difficult to get off."

She stills, then raises her gaze to mine. "Bastard," she spits out, "how dare you?"

Behind me, the priest winces.

"Now you’ve shocked the Father."

Her cheeks tinge red. "The hell I care?"

I click my tongue. "You’re spirited, I give you that." I smirk, "I’ll enjoy teaching you your place.”

"Argh!" She makes a sound deep in her throat that seems to tug on my nerve-endings. The blood drains to my groin.

Then, Luca wraps his arm around her shoulders and urges her away from me. Her fingers drag against mine, as she pulls away. A shiver runs down my spine.

Nonna steps in front of her. I see her hand move, then the thud of a slap echoes around the church as her palm connects with Beauty’s face.

"Stop," I call out. "She’s my wife, mine to punish as I see fit."

Nonna’s shoulders rise and fall. She turns, tips up her chin at me. Her features are flushed. She seems to compose herself, then nods at me, "See that you do." My grandmother pivots and walks out the way she came, through the side entrance of the church where, no doubt, her bodyguards are waiting for her.

"Take her to the basement." I jerk my chin at Luca.

Around me, my brothers stiffen, but none of them say anything. They wouldn’t. They know better than to question my authority in front of the Don.

Beauty stares at me over her shoulder as Luca guides her away, Adrian in tow.

I don’t take my attention off of her, until she’s out of sight, out of the main door. My chest twinges, but I dismiss it. I glance down to find the front of my shirt sodden with blood.

I shrug off my jacket, then my tear off my shirt and press it into the wound.

"You need stitches." Christian murmurs, "I am calling for the doctor."

I am tempted to say I don’t need to see a doctor, but I know better than taking foolish risks. I nod, as my father prowls over to me. "I hope you are not going to let this go unpunished." He looks me up and down, "She spilled the blood of a Capo; you know what that means."

I stiffen, "She’s my wife. I decide how I am going to make her pay for what she did."

He chuckles, "No doubt, you can turn the consummation of the marriage into something that she will never forget."

I whip my chin up, glare at him. "Mind how you speak about her," I say through gritted teeth. "She’s still mine."

"Not questioning that, son," he says in a soothing voice. "Just making sure you realize that this cannot be overlooked. When word of what happened gets out…" He shakes his head, "It will seriously undermine your position as being in the running as successor of the Don."

"And who will let news of this leak out?"

My father glances at the priest. I pull out the gun from the back of my waistband and shoot him in the forehead. The man collapses to the floor.

I turn to the Don, "That only leaves you as the weak point in this entire proceeding."

"You threatening me, son?" he asks in a mild tone. "Not even you would be foolish enough to do that."

"It was merely an observation." I tilt my head.

"As long as that's all it was." He bares his lips in the semblance of a smile, which is almost as sharklike as mine. Apparently there is more of him in me than I'd like.

He glances around at the faces of my brothers, "I’ll see the lot of you at our next meeting then."

Turning, he begins to walk away, then stops, "By the way, Michelangelo." He glances at me over his shoulder, "Congratulations."

He leaves by the side entrance. The door slams shut, the sound echoing around the space.

"Fucking fuck," I growl as I pull the shirt away from my chest. I glance down to where the blood flow seems to have lessened, then ball up my shirt and throw it on the floor. "What a fucking mess."

"Was that necessary?" Xander glances sideways at the priest’s body, "Did you have to kill a man of god."

"I didn’t have a choice."

"The man would have taken what happened here to the grave with him," he protests.

"And I made sure he did."

Xander grimaces, "And her... Did you have to send her to the basement?"

"It’s where anyone who commits a crime against any of the famiglia is sent." I tilt my head.

"She’s part of the famiglia now," Xander argues.

"She needs to prove herself first." Christian jerks his chin in my direction, "I agree with fratellone, here."

"You were very lucky," Massimo rumbles. "She missed your heart.

"She wasn’t aiming for it," I retort.

Silence descends as the guys glance at me.

"You sure of that?" Sebastian drawls, "because from where I was standing, she sure seemed to be aiming to kill."

"To injure, at the very least," I agree, "but did she want to kill me?" I raise a shoulder, "I am not so sure."

"So why send her to the basement?" Christian frowns.

"Why not?"

"Because she’s your wife?" Xander offers.

"And she stabbed me."

"As you said, she wasn’t aiming for your heart," he retorts. "In fact, the wound isn’t that deep; you’ve lost blood but you’ll recover."

"She attacked me in front of the Don," I say steadily. "I don’t need him seeing me as weak, no matter that it was my own wife who took a dagger to me."

"Bullshit." Xander scowls, "Since when do you let father steer your actions?" He prowls over to me, "No Mika, you are up to something else here."

I look him and down, "Are you going to tell me how I am supposed to treat my wife?"

Xander hesitates, "I don’t presume to tell you anything, fratellone." He murmurs, "I am merely pointing out that she is entitled to basic human rights."

"Is she though, after what she did?" I hold his gaze steadily and he glances away.

"I know you are angry, and I am not condoning what she did," he murmurs. "Still she is a woman, and she is the one you love…"

"Love?" I chuckle aloud, "You really think I am in love with her?"

"Why else would you marry her?"

I open my mouth to protest and Xander holds up his hand. "The way you look at her, Mika," his gaze softens, "it’s the glance of a man obsessed."

"Obsessed with ensuring that I get the respect that is due to me from my own wife." I bare my teeth, "And that is the last I will entertain on this issue."

Xander hesitates, and Christian walks over to him. He claps a hand on Xander’s shoulder, "Let the Capo handle this the way he thinks best."

Xander scowls at him, "You are a harsh man, but you are not heartless, Mika."

I tilt my head. "Not looking for a character reference." I glance around the assembled faces. "And that’s the last I will entertain in this regard, do I make myself clear?"

The rest of them keep silent.

"Do I?"

They nod. "Yes, fratel—Capo," Sebastian replies.

"Yes, Capo." Christian adds.

"You got it, Capo." Massimo rumbles.

Xander draws in a breath. I hold his gaze and he nods. "As you wish," he says stiffly.

"Good." I walk over to where she had dropped the knife, then scoop it up. I wipe it on my shirt then slide it back into the sheath at my waist. "When does the doctor get here?" I glance at Christian.

"I sent the chopper for her; she won’t be long."

"Good." I turn to Sebastian, "Take care of the body."

An hour and a half later, I’ve been stitched up by the doctor who had departed after administering an antibiotic shot. I change into a fresh pair of slacks and a shirt, then head down the stairs of my mansion. As I descend, it gets cooler. When I hit the lower ground level, it’s at least ten degrees cooler than what I had left behind. That’s the architecture of these old homes for you. The basements were always cool enough so you could use the space as a natural refrigerator to store food… Or temporarily keep dead bodies… As I have done in the past.

I head down the corridor to the door at the far end. I grab the handle, twist it and shove the door open. Step inside the gloom that’s illuminated by the light streaming in from the lone window near the ceiling.

On the far side, there is a single bed and on it, Beauty is curled up. Her black dress slashes across the white of the mattress. The train flows behind her and trails on the floor. Her red hair flows about her shoulders and over the side of the bed. Her body is curved into the fetal position. Her slender fingers pillow her cheek.

I let the door slam shut behind me. The sound echoes through the cell and she visibly jolts. Her eyelids snap open. She spots me but doesn’t move. I prowl over to stand over her. She tips her chin up, meets my gaze.

"What do you want?" she snarls, and a chuckle boils up. This woman... She, seriously, has some gumption. After stabbing me in the chest, at our wedding, she acts as if she’s the injured party. Fuck, if that isn’t hot. I swallow down my mirth, school all emotion from my face.

"On your knees."