Mafia King by L. Steele
7
Michael
"The hell are you up to, Stronzo?"
I don’t look up from the screen. The camera is pointed at the bed in the center of the room. More specifically, at the woman sleeping on it. She hasn’t moved since we arrived on my island a few hours ago. I’d left it to my men to escort her there. She’d tried to speak with them and they’d ignored her…as they had been instructed. They hadn’t looked at her, or met her gaze—they knew the consequences of disobeying my orders. She’d glanced around the room, walked up to the window, which was open… And I knew what she’d see—sheer drop to the ocean below. Her shoulders had sagged, and she’d flounced around, examined every corner of the room, before she’d staggered to the bed and thrown herself on it. She’d fallen asleep in seconds, like the child that she is.
Except, when it had come to sucking my dick…she’d known her way around that particular appendage. Or bringing herself to climax… Should I be insulted that she jacked off to me? I tighten my fingers into fists. It should have been my fingers, my lips, my cock on which she came… If I let her… Which I won’t. Not for a while. She’ll have to pay for the mistakes she made me commit. Once I figure out exactly what I am going to do with her.
"You lose your tongue along with your ability to think coherently?" Luca prowls into the room.
My brother can be a pain in the ass at the best of times. And right now, when he is in a foul mood… Which, admittedly, he is entitled to, considering I had broken the one pact we had strictly adhered to since purchasing this island—no women. It’s a hideout, which only our closest famiglia know about, and a few of our associates…. And strictly on a need-to-know basis.
"Maybe it’s your balls that are bothering you?" Luca smirks. "No, now wait, did you replace your brain with your dick? Is that why you brought her…here?"
I draw in a breath, stare at the sleeping figure. She hadn’t stirred in the last—I glance at my watch—in the last half an hour. She’s okay, right? I lean in closer to the screen. Breathe Beauty, breathe for me. Her chest rises and falls. My shoulders slump. The tension drains, leaving…a strange tightness in my chest.
"No, don’t tell me, maybe she has a magic pussy or something?" Luca murmurs, "That why you can’t take your gaze off of her?
My left eyelid twitches. How dare he talk about her in that tone? And what the hell is wrong with me that I am taking this entire conversation so personally? It’s no different from how my siblings and I kid each other all the time.
I push back from the table so fast that my chair screeches against the floor. "Or something," I keep my voice casual.
"You don’t fool me, fratellone." There’s a sly edge to his voice. "Clearly, she means something to you."
"You’re right about that."
"I am?"
"She’s an asset, one who will help me claim what’s rightfully mine."
"The title of the Don?"
"That too." I smirk. It’s no secret that I am ambitious, that I want to become the next Boss of Cosa Nostra. But that’s assuming our current Don decides, at some point, to retire. Not that I am in a hurry, but every step I take is calculated to get me there. Except her.
She’s the wild card. The one that came into my possession by chance, and now I am figuring out the best way to play her.
"That’s wise," Luca nods. "Then you wouldn’t mind if I—" he nods his chin toward the screen, "tried my luck with her?"
Red tints my vision. Only when my fingers hurt, do I realize that I’ve crossed the floor and have hauled him up by his collar.
"So, it’s like that, huh?" One side of his lips curls, the expression so similar to mine. His gaze narrows, calculating. He glances past me at the screen, then back to my face. "You want me to guess, or you going to come clean about her?"
Her?There is no her. She’s a prisoner… She belongs to me and her fate is mine to decide. Period. I release him. He doesn’t move. I pivot, walk to the bar in the corner of the room, pour myself a whiskey.
"Want one?" I pour without waiting for his reply. Then walk back and offer it to him.
"She’s mine." I declare.
His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh?"
I toss back the drink. It burns its way down my throat. My stomach clenches. My dick hurts. Porco Giuda! This entire sequence of events since I’d heard her voice those fucking words is…a nightmare. Confusing. And that’s not something I am used to dealing with. I have to convince myself she means nothing… More importantly, I have to ensure that Luca’s attention is focused away from her.
"Mine to leverage," I clarify.
"She’s better off if you kill her."
My guts twist. The thought of her not breathing, not sighing, not mouthing off at me, as she’s done so often since we met… No, I have to convince him that it doesn’t matter either way to me.
"She has her uses," I drawl. "I plan to use her to get the Seven to back off from enquiring after the Mafia."
I prowl back to the bar, pour myself another drink.
"Only…" Luca murmurs and I stiffen, cap the bottle of Macallan.
I raise the glass, wet my lips with the dram. Rich cloves and the taste of ginger spices explodes on my tongue. As lush as figs, as moist as her cunt will surely be. I tighten my fingers around the glass. "Only?" I turn.
"That’s not your style. Are you planning something that you’re not letting me in on?"
"Would I ever do that?" I tilt my head.
"Only all the time." He chuckles, "We may stop the Seven from coming after us right now, but it’s only a matter of time before they resume their efforts."
"What if I find a way to buy us time, on a more permanent basis?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if I secure an alliance with the Seven?"
"They’d never agree to it."
"Not unless they don’t have a choice."
"What do you mean?" He tilts his head.
I hold his gaze, and his forehead clears, "Ah, I see." He rolls his shoulders, "You mean to—" he jerks his chin toward the screen.
"I am thinking of it," I murmur slowly.
"Of course, you’d be killing two birds with one stone. Alliances which help further our business are not new." Luca strokes his chin, "But in this case, you’d be sleeping with the enemy, literally."
"Stranger things have happened."
"Not that she is hard on the eyes or anything."
I growl low in my throat and Luca throws up a hand, "Fine, I’ll back off. But you know it’s risky. What if the Seven don’t agree to it? After all, money is a powerful motivation. More important than saving the life of a loved one, sometimes."
"What if I don’t give them a choice?"
"You mean wed her and bed her first, and then take her help in winning them over to your side?"
"I mean giving neither of them a choice. She’ll do as I say."
"You’re assuming that you’ll be able to control her."
"What’s wrong with that?"
"Don’t underestimate women."
"Don’t underestimate my way with women."
"Hmm." He purses his lips in that annoying way he’s had from when we were little. I am the older one here, and yet, Luca is the one who has a wise head on his shoulders. It’s why I use him as a sounding board more than any of my other brothers.
"What?" I scowl, "What’s on your mind, stronzo?"
"It’s risky."
"It’s better than killing her, which is what I had in mind when I came upon her."
"What changed your mind?"
Her eyes, her lips, the scent of her skin, the way she looked at me with her bright green eyes, so curious, so full of life that it had sparked a yearning deep inside.
"I need to consolidate my position at the earliest possible time," I murmur.
"Maybe you’re attracted to her?"
"I need to send a message to the other four families that we have some strong powers aligned behind us."
"There are easier ways to do that."
"How?"
"You could deploy our men and shoot them."
I laugh, "And start an outright war?" I shake my head, "There’s a time for violence and a time for…"
"Romance?"
"An arrangement." I frown.
"With her or with yourself."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I growl, "Whatever is on your mind, just come out and say it already."
"Just that this seems a very long and contrived way of consolidating our position."
"She’s already here with us," I point out. "Half the job is done."
"You’re hellbent on this?" He scowls, "There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?"
"Why should I?" I widen my stance, "She’s the key. Don’t you see it? Her sister is married to the fourth richest man in the UK, one who is part of a close-knit circle of powerful men who hold the ability to open up not only the British Isles, but also Silicon Valley."
"So, in one stroke, we not only send out a message to the other families, we also widen our sphere of influence geographically."
One of our father’s stipulations: I have to marry and produce an heir before I turn forty in order to secure the role of Don. Else it will open the line of succession as a free-for-all. Anyone from the four other ruling families could challenge me to a fight, and if they won, I’d lose everything I have worked toward. Not that they can’t attack me now. The only thing stopping them is the fact that my team and I are too strong. However, like most things, power ebbs and flows. I need to marry and quickly consolidate my position.
A sound comes from the direction of the screen. I turn to it. Beauty yawns, sits up, and the cover falls to her waist. Her breasts, encased in that stretchy sports bra, fills the screen.
"I see you’ve been keeping close watch on your assets." Luca smirks.
I wave my hand and the screen shuts off.
"Hold on… It was just getting interesting." Luca walks toward the screen, but I plant myself in his path.
"I see." He bares his teeth.
"No, you don’t."
"You sweet on her, hmm?" He scratches his jaw.
"Fuck off."
"Your American roots are showing, cazzo." He clicks his tongue.
"The fuck I care about that?" I rub the back of my neck. "You’re half-American too, or have you forgotten?"
"Tried my best, but it’s a stain that doesn’t wash off easily, and neither will the mistake you’ve made by bringing her here."
"Bringing who here?" A new voice sounds. I glance up to find my second brother Massimo, followed by my youngest twin siblings Christian and Alessandro walking into the room.
Antonio, my right-hand man, stands to attention by the open door. He’s been told not to let anyone except family inside. Doesn’t mean he ever lets his guard down. Since he fell in love with one of the women that we’d saved from being trafficked, and married her—with my blessing—his loyalty has been unshakeable. Not that he had been anything but faithful before that. But finding his woman had made him even more faithful, something for which I am appreciative. He meets my gaze and I wave him off. He steps back, shuts the door behind him, and I turn to my brothers, "The fuck you guys doing here?"
"Someone’s pissed," Christian murmurs.
"Think big brother, here, isn’t getting enough?" Alessandro smirks.
"Or maybe he’s getting too much and it’s not satisfying enough? After all, quality over quantity, and all that," Massimo drawls as he precedes the other two further into the room.
I scowl as the three of them prowl around the space. Christian sinks into a couch, then promptly turns sideways and stretches out. Alessandro lowers his bulk into a chair, and props his feet on the coffee table, "Thought you were supposed to be in London?" He jerks his chin at me.
"I was," I mutter.
"Is it a woman who had you returning so quickly?"
I hold his gaze, don’t say anything else.
"Knew it," Christian crows. "It has to be a woman who’s put him in such a filthy mood."
"It’s not only my mood which is going to be filthy soon," I growl. "What the hell are you three stronzi doing here, anyway?"
"You’re repeating yourself, fratellone." Massimo smirks.
"Vaffanculo!"I rub the back of my neck.
"Now he’s taking refuge in insults." Christian chuckles, "And it was you who’d asked us over for a meeting."
Of course, I had. How could I have forgotten that? I walk over to stand over the three of them. Luca follows me. "Get your foot off the table, Xander," I growl at my youngest brother.
"Seriously?" He grimaces, "What’s wrong with where my foot is?"
"Want me to show you?" I pull my knife from my belt, flip it over in my hand. I glare at him, and he grimaces.
"You’re such a bore, Mika." Xander lowers his foot to the floor anyway.
"Why did you call us?" Massimo straightens in his seat. "It has to be something serious that had you summoning all of us here."
Goddam it to hell. I can’t believe I forgot about that. Shows just how much she’s addled my mind that I can’t recollect half the orders I’ve issued in the last few days. I glance between them, "Can’t I ask my own brothers to join me? After all, we are a family, aren’t we?"
"We met just before you went to London, so I take it there have been developments?" Massimo tips his chin up at me.
"You could say that." I rake my fingers through my hair, then survey them, "I’m getting married."
"Married?" Xander slowly bats his eyelids, then bursts out laughing, "Che cazzo?" He snickers, "You sure have a strange sense of humor, Michelangelo."
"I hate that name," I say through gritted teeth, "and what’s wrong with my getting married?"
"Everything." He tries to school his features into some semblance of seriousness, then bursts out laughing. Again.
"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.
"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?"