Arranged Mafia Marriage

Michael

I glance at the sea in the distance. Clouds are rolling in, which is not unusual for late December. It’s the day before Christmas and I am on my own. Not for long, as my brothers are going to arrive soon, as will Nonna.

My Beauty may have left me, but the party she organized to celebrate Xander will go on. It feels only right to do so, considering she made all of the arrangements. I have to believe she’d have wanted it to go on even though she is not here with me. Hell, I want the event to take place so I can feel close to her. So I can finally try to put what happened to Xander behind me… Not that I will ever be able to make peace with it. But mulling over it is self-defeating. I need to function at peak efficiency, to focus all of my efforts at taking down the Kane Company.NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

Bastards are clever. Have to be careful in how I trap them and rein them in so I can have my revenge. Right after the Christmas event today.

Do criminals take time off for Christmas too? I never have before, but this time…just for her…because she’d have wanted me to if she were here… For Beauty, I’ll be present. For Xander, I’ll be there to celebrate his life.

I raise the glass of whiskey and sip from it. This is bullshit. Me on my own here. My wife in London. My brother dead… Not to mention, the child I never had, the one whose absence I feel more keenly than before. Is it possible to miss something that you never had? The notion of a family, of a child I’d hoped to hold in my arms. Maybe I had counted on it more than I had realized. Maybe, I had already foreseen a future for us. Maybe I had just not acknowledged it, and it took the lack of a child, the lack of her in my life, to bring it all to the fore. Pain shoots up my arm and I glance down. The skin over my knuckles is white and I force myself to loosen my grip. I bring the glass up to my lips, drain it and turn; just as Massimo walks onto the terrace.

“Fratellone,” he jerks his chin.

“How is she?” I snap.

“She?”

“You know who I am talking about.”

“The last I saw of her, she was pissed at you. I don’t think that has changed.”

I scowl, “Not asking your opinion on her state of mind. I mean, how is she physically? Is she safe?”

“As safe as she can be in a five-star hotel.”

“And there are guards posted around her, day and night?”

“There are people who have her in their line of sight, twenty-four-seven. If they move any closer, she’ll trip over them.”

“Good.”

He stares at me steadily and I glare at him, “What?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Like I said, not asking your opinion,” I snap.

“I am going to give it to you anyway.”

“Of course, you are.”

“Not sure why you think it’s a good idea to pretend to break up with her, but-”

“Nothing pretend about it,” I insist.

He laughs. The testa di cazzo laughs.

“Vaffanculo,” I glower at him.

He raises his hands, “So you broke up with her, sent her on her way, and now you have people watching her. I fail to understand the logic in this.”

“The logic in what?” Seb walks in and glances down at my whiskey. “You need a refill.”

I hand the glass over to him and he stalks over to the bar. He snatches up a few more glasses, then proceeds to fill them up.

He walks over, hands a glass to Massimo and one to me. “Salute,” he clinks the glass with both of ours. “What were you talking about?” he asks.

“Just how the Capo is tying himself up in knots.” Massimo smirks.

“He hasn’t been the same since he fell in love.”

“Love,” Massimo shakes his head, “it’s been known to gut the fiercest of people. You’d have thought il nostro fratellone, here, stood a chance, eh? Considering he’s, on the face of it, at least, the toughest of all of us.”

“You know what they say, the stronger they are…the harder they fall.” Seb chuckles.

Massimo rises his glass, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Che cazzo!” I glare at the two of them, “Since when did my love life-”

“Or the lack thereof,” Massimo points out.

“What-fucking-ever. Same thing-”

“Not.” Seb shakes his head. He turns to Massimo, “Ever known the Capo to be this short of words.”

“Never,” Massimo laments.

“He’d best get used to this state of affairs, eh?”

“Basta,” I growl. “Shut the fuck up, you two.”

“You losing your temper again?” Adrian stalks in, heads straight for the bar. He bypasses the already poured glass of whiskey, leans over and grabs a Macallan thirty-year-old. He hefts it onto the counter and proceeds to open it.

“Thanks for checking in with me.” I try to infuse sarcasm into my voice and fail. Merda. I am growing soft, all right. Or maybe not, considering I killed a man in cold blood yesterday. I’d hesitated, though, which had been a first for me. And now, I am unable to muster enough anger at my brothers and stepbrothers as they swarm all over my expensive liquor. I drain my glass and hold it out. Massimo grabs it from me, walks over to the bar and places it on the counter. Adrian opens the bottle and tops me up, then Massimo’s glass, then his own. He pours liquor into three more glasses, then pauses.

I stare at the glasses. So do Massimo and Seb.

Christian walks onto the terrace. He bumps into the back of a chair, “Oops!” he apologizes to no one in particular, then weaves over to the bar. He snatches up a glass of whiskey and sniffs it. “This is eccezionale.” He tosses it back, then slams the glass onto the counter. “Top me up,” he commands Adrian, who hesitates.

“Come on, brother.” Christian hiccups, “It’s Christmas after all, and you know this is Xander’s favorite festival. Even though the man’s grown up, you’d think he was a kid the way he looks forward to the festive season. It feeds his creativity, he says, and-” Christian’s voice tapers off. “Fuck,” he growls, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grabs the bottle from Adrian, tops up his own glass. That’s when he spots the two other glasses. He freezes, then spinning around, carries the bottle and glass with him to a table in the far corner. He slaps them both on the table, before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lights one, blows out smoke.

“When did you start smoking?” I scowl.

“Don’t nag, fratellone,” he takes another puff of his cigarette.

That’s when Luca enters the terrace. He glances between us, his gaze cautious. “I assume I have been invited to this?”

I nod my head at the same time that Christian growls, “Get the fuck out of here. You don’t deserve to be here, faccia di merda.”

Luca doesn’t respond. He marches over to the bar, snatches up the glass of whiskey. That’s when he notices the last glass that’s topped to the rim with the amber fluid.

He pales. “Fuck,” he growls as he keeps his gaze focused on the glass.

I stalk over to stand next to him. Seb prowls over to flank me on the other side, with Massimo next to him. Adrian falls in line next to him. Christian draws in a breath. He stabs out his cigarette on the bar counter, stumbles across the terrace, and comes to a halt next to Seb. Christian sways; Seb steadies him, but Christian pulls free. He fixes his gaze on that full glass on the counter.

For a few seconds, all of us stare at the glass, then I raise mine. “To Xander.” I swallow down the ball of emotion in my throat. “Rest in peace, brother.”

“To Xander.” Seb raises his glass, “I’ll miss your easygoing nature, little brother.”

“And your humor,” Massimo jerks his chin, “not that I understood all of your jokes.”

The rest of us chuckle.

“You were way too much of a nerd… But I’ll still miss the jokes that I did not understand.” Massimo’s lips kick up in the semblance of a smile.

“I’ll miss how you always made everyone feel like you were giving them your complete attention. You actually cared for others…” Adrian draws in a breath, “unlike the rest of us reprobates, who swear by violence; you were the good one among us.”

Luca goes still. He seems like he’s about to say something, then shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he squeezes his eyes shut, “I am so sorry. You had the best of us all-the most goodness, the most talent, the most warmth… It should have been me, not you, fratellino.”

“It should have,” Christian says through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you fuck off and off yourself, eh? Why don’t you leave and never return, you testa di cazzo!”

“Christian,” I growl.

“Don’t tell me you don’t agree.” The skin across his knuckles whitens as he squeezes his fingers around the glass. “This asshole, here, is responsible for your child being killed. I’m sure you’ve thought of that.”

“Christian,” I snap. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I am only saying what everyone is thinking,” he growls. “This asshole is responsible for everything that happened. If he hadn’t helped Karma leave, she’d still be here and so would your child, and Xander would not be lying in a coffin six feet under and-” he draws in a breath and his features seem to crumple. He manages to get a hold of himself, only for a tear to run down his cheek. “F-u-c-k,” he cries, “fuck, this shit.” He tosses his drink back, turns to leave, but Luca grabs his shoulder.

“I am sorry, brother. I really am sorry for what I did. I swear, I had no idea it would turn out like this.”

“Didn’t you?” Christian tries to pull away but Luca doesn’t let go.

“I really didn’t. I messed things up, I know that, but I am here now, aren’t I? I am going to help you guys take revenge on the Kane Company. This, I promise.”

“Fuck that.” Christian swings, Luca ducks, and Christian’s glass crashes to the floor as Luca wraps his arms around him. “Let the fuck go of me, man.”

“No,” Luca says in a hard voice, “This family has been fractured enough. The rest of us need to stick together now. It’s the only way we are going to survive.”

“And what if I don’t want to survive?” Christian glares at him, “What if I don’t want to go on living? What if I-”

Luca slaps his face.

“What the-!” Christian gapes. “How dare you?” He tries to headbutt Luca, whose still-full glass hits the floor and rolls away.

Luca wraps his arms around Christian and holds him immobile. “How dare you talk about dying, you asshole? If anything, Xander’s death should have taught you how lucky you are; how lucky we all are to be alive. We love you, Christian, don’t you get that?”

“Yeah,” Adrian, nods. He moves around, throws his arms around the both of them. “We need you with us, bro.”

“Totally,” Seb walks over to them and hugs the lot of them.

Massimo heaves a sigh, “Can’t believe I am going to do this,” He tosses back his drink, glances around for somewhere to place it. Then, still clutching the glass in his gigantic hand, he closes the distance to them, and enfolds his big arms around the group.

He glares at me over the heads of our brothers. I glance away, stalk over to the bar and place the glass on the counter. I draw in a breath, square my shoulders, then turn and prowl over to the group where I wrap my arms around all of them.

For a few seconds we stay that way, then Christian grumbles, “Enough of this emo shit.”

Instantly, I step back. So does Massimo, then Adrian, Seb, and Luca.

Christian rubs the back of his neck. “I need another fucking drink.”

“And I,” I roll my shoulders “have something I need to do.”