Prince of Malice (Gods of Montcove #1)

1. Dominic

1

DOMINIC

I feel strange in my suit. It feels even weirder having my own mom tugging at my lapels, adjusting the jacket so it sits well on my shoulders and making sure my collar is straight. She doesn’t need to do this.

“See? That’s a lot better.” The fake smile she has pinned on her face all day doesn’t slip. “Now, stop shrugging so much and keep your shoulders down. You look like you have no neck.”

Relaxing my shoulders feels wrong, but it’s her day so I do what she wants from me. I fix my posture, drop my shoulders, and let her run her hands across them, flattening down the creases I’ve developed in the jacket.

She takes a step away, keeping her eyes on me and avoiding treading on the train of her dress.

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I say.

“Well, I need you looking your best for today.” She responds to what she wants me to have meant.

“You know what I mean.”

She sighs, turning away from me entirely and trying her best to act busy, arranging her flowers in a vase that she’s already arranged and rearranged, again and again. “You’ll understand this sort of thing when you’re older.”

“You’re always telling me that,” I complain.

“I must be right then.” She laughs to herself. “It takes time; love has never been your strong suit.”

“Don’t pretend that you love him,” I say, already regretting my tone. It’s not fair to her. I’ve said those words this morning, this week, and what feels like every moment since I found out she’s marrying him. She just wouldn’t give an answer I like.

“I’m not talking about loving him,” she says curtly. “I mean my love for this family. For the Rossis. I’m doing this for you- Dominic Rossi- and your brothers, and all I want for today is for you to appreciate that.”

“Fine. For today.” I reset the cuffs on my shirt, stretch my shoulders, and stand up straight.

Mom looks me up and down. When she smiles, I think she’s happy. That I’ve said enough. She’s permitting me to say nothing until the ceremony is over and then I’m free to mingle around the reception, throw back a few drinks, and have my pick of the guests. But no.

“I want you to walk me down the aisle.” She’s abrupt, dropping this on me last minute. It’s either a split-second decision or a long-planned ambush.

“What? But Gianni is the oldest?—”

“Gianni supports this. He gave his blessing at the engagement party,” she interrupts. This is definitely thought out. “You’re the one with problems, and everyone knows it. But if you’re the one to give me away, then maybe they’ll have a different idea about you.”

“I won’t do it. It won’t change anything. They’ll take one look at me and?—”

“You’ll do as you’re told, Dominic.”

“Why do you have to keep interrupting me?” I yell out.

“Because I’m your mother, and you’re not listening to me,” she fires back.

“All I’m trying to say is that the Valentis have hated us for years, especially me.”

“You didn’t help it.”

“I know, Mom, I know. But this is your wedding day, and I don’t want to make things worse on your day.”

She doesn’t reply. For all of her shouting and arguing, I’m always more afraid of her when she goes quiet.

“Mom?”

Still nothing.

“Come on, Mom. I just want to do what’s best for the family. Not stir up any trouble like you asked.”

Finally, she turns around to look at me, her eyes softer now, more welcoming. She walks up to me and takes my hands in hers.

“That’s all I want. Nothing more.” She smiles again. “Then you’ll walk me down the aisle.”

I thought she wanted me to walk her down the aisle, yet she is definitely leading me. Holding onto my arm, keeping the rest of her body still and cold while marching toward her future husband. This is all a lie and a plot, so she needs to put on a show for the families, but when they all know that this whole day is just to keep them from each other’s throats, she doesn't need to be much of an actress.

No one wants to be here. I can see it from how they look. Some want this day to be over, to show their faces and fake approval. Others are brave enough to stare us down with daggers in their eyes, disgusted that Mom would go through with this and that Salvatore even suggested it in the first place. Though divided by the aisle and the countless years of aggression, the Rossis and Valentis are together today and I’m sure we all agree that this entire thing is complete bullshit .

The look on Salvatore Valenti’s face is just another joke at this point. Mom is willing to put on a smile, blush for the crowd, and parade around in her wedding dress. Her new husband, however, decides to keep an apathetic face, stare at the back of the room, and wear the same dusty, old suit that he throws on his back day after day.

A man who’s done so little today, yet everyone here would either describe him as a calculated genius who built an empire from nothing or a ruthless man who’s made a mockery of the Rossi family with his latest scheme.

Personally, I think he’s nothing more than an old bastard who’s caught my mother up in a wedding to keep everyone from killing each other for a few more years. Worst of all, he wants me to call him Dad.

Pass. I don’t want him as a dad, even if it’s my last option on earth, especially with the smug stick figure of a son he’s raised. Luca Valenti is standing next to his father in a suit that does a great job of showing how scrawny he is underneath it. I don’t understand why he’s smirking; I could throw him around and rip that smile and suit off of him before he could even cry for help.

Actually, that sounds like fun. Maybe I should give it a try after the reception.

“Thank you, son,” Salvatore says to me through his over-whitened teeth.

Son… I force a grin back at him and let Mom go; she has to stand by herself at the altar. Salvatore gets his son as his best man, but Mom is left alone. How fair. That’s how the Valentis play, I suppose.

“Go take your seat,” Mom says, now alone in front of a man who has promised this is all for the best.

I can’t wait for this day to be over.

My mother, Sofia Rossi, is the only stand-out thing in this whole room. I understand she’s the bride and that’s supposed to be the case, but I would have assumed they’d have decorated the reception a bit better. Maybe some more flowers, less harsh lighting, or honestly anything at this point, but no. Here we are, standing in the back room of one of Salvatore’s “restaurants,” a handful of tables scattered across the room with no real thought and Mom’s bouquet from the ceremony now on a table instead of in her hands. The overhead lights feel more like a grocery store than a wedding reception.

I feel so bad for her. She always tells me about what her wedding was like with Dad. It was only a small thing with close family and friends who weren’t too judgmental to mention her bump coming in. Yet she talked about it like it was the best thing in the entire world. Her dress was secondhand, but she acted like it was hand-stitched by the greatest of seamstresses. The whole ceremony and reception took place in a family friend’s garden out in Vermont, but she described it like a winery back home in Italy.

I don't think any amount of denial and rose-tinted glasses could turn today into anything like that, even if she tried.

I should talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.

The room’s small, too, and there’s barely enough space for anyone to stand, let alone move around. Each step I take feels like I’m just getting pushed back by a tide of guests and there’s no clear path through to her.

“Oh, it was just so sweet how you walked your mom down the aisle,” the voice of an unknown woman exclaims as a soft hand held onto my arm.

“And in that suit, you look so very handsome,” another man says.

I just want to get away from them. “Thank you. That’s very kind. I must say, the pair of you don’t look too bad yourselves.”

I’m not lying either; the woman’s gorgeous. Her skin is radiant, her curves in all the right places, and her dress cut just so that you can see everything you need to but still have enough left to learn later. I know her family isn’t here—she wouldn’t wear that if they were—so that’s promising.

The man, however, is already blushing from my compliment and is leaning at such a sharp angle that any moment now he’ll knock into me. Claims he’s had a few too many to drink and asks me if I can help him sober up. I’ve seen it too many times before.

He moves closer to me, stumbling as he does.

“Careful. Are you alright?” I ask as I catch him and bring him to a stop before he falls.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve just had a bit too much to drink,” he predictably responds with a laugh.

This is why I go to weddings.

“Would you be okay to…” his voice trails off, and my attention is brought elsewhere.

Laughing and smiling with some people is Luca Valenti- eldest son of Salvatore Valenti and I have to guess now the wedding is done, my new stepbrother. He stands off to the edge of the group and chimes in now and then to remind them he’s still there before replacing his stoney face. Very handsome stoney face. Just looking at him is annoying.

“This always happens to me. I’m just such a wreck,” the drunk man says, his voice catching my attention again. “Would that be okay?” he asks, clarifying a question I didn’t hear.

“Uh, yes…but would you just give me a minute?” A new idea forms in my mind. “I need to show my face to the new family. Then I’ll be right back. Won’t take long at all,” I ramble, already walking away toward Luca Valenti, the image of him humiliated pulsing in my mind.

“Sure, just don’t keep us waiting,” the woman says.

Marching across the room, I notice the exact moment that Luca catches my eye, and he pulls away slightly, even though I’m nowhere near him. I chuckle, which only makes him squirm more. I lose my stride, stopping for a moment. What the hell was that?

I try my best to shake it off and keep walking. He’s just playing mind games, trying to throw me off my game, but guys like that always have a button to push to set them off—and I really want to find that button.

Mom told me I couldn’t mess this day up for her. That it won’t just make me look bad but the whole family, especially her. I can’t do that to her. However, if Luca is the one to throw a tantrum at the big wedding in front of everyone, he’ll look like an idiot. That’ll knock him down a peg, and I’ll be able to do whatever I want to him.

I grab his arm and pull him away from his pretend conversation, getting right up in his face. He’s so small and meek up close.

“Oh, Dominic Rossi, it’s so nice to see you.” His tone is about as fake as his watch. “ I can’t believe this has all happened so quickly.”

“I know, right? It’s surprising. Your father must have been quite desperate.” I have to hide my smile. Don’t want to be too obvious.

Luca laughed off the jab. “Well, I don’t think you can be too desperate for love, now can you?”

I can’t stop my fist from clenching by my side; I’d like to see him laugh off a proper jab.

“Oh, right. Sure. Got to keep up appearances for everyone. Can’t let everyone know just how hopeless you Valentis are,” I say in a hushed tone I only want him to hear.“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says, his anger flashing.

“All I mean is that your father was practically begging for us Rossis to dust off his reputation. This is basically a thank you party for saving your asses,” I push further.

“Very funny, Dom, but that’s no way to talk about family.”

“Exactly. We’re family. This is just how brothers talk to each other. You’ll get used to it. ”

“As long as you can take as much as you give.”

What is he thinking? Because I know what I’m thinking…

“Don’t you worry about me; I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. I didn’t suspect the Valenti heir to be so…sensitive.”

“Well, it must be a lot easier being the middle child who’s needed for nothing and can waste their time being a screw-up,” he hisses in my ear.

I grit my teeth and charge at him, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the nearest wall.

“Why do you have to be such a smartass?” I yell.

He just laughs, which pisses me off even more. He feels almost weightless in my arms, and tossing him to the floor is easy.

“What’s wrong with you?” I hear from behind me; it’s Salvatore Valenti. “Get away from him!”

Dammit. That piece of shit got to me.

I’m dragged away from their fragile heir as Salvatore’s hands grip my shoulder. My mom pulls me toward her. “What is your problem, Dominic? Why can’t you just behave?”

Salvatore helps his son to his feet. Luca’s putting on a show for everyone here, but I’m the only one who can see through it.

“We were talking, and he just attacked me,” he whimpers and I think for a moment about ramming my cock into his pretty little mouth.

“That’s not—” I can’t even get my words out before I’m stifled.

“Enough! Get him away from here,” Salvatore barks, his lackey brothers already escorting me away.

My mom walks over to Luca and brushes off his jacket. “Come here. Are you okay?”

How am I the only one who sees through him?

“I’ll take care of him,” my brother Gianni says to Salvatore’s brothers who are still holding me.

“Sort him out,” one of them says before finally letting me go as I writhe away from their grasp.

Gianni pulls me further from them and claps his hand around the back of my head. “What the hell is wrong with you? ”

“Ouch, why’d you do that?” I yelp.

“To knock some sense into you, apparently. What were you doing back there?”

“He was the one being disrespectful. Go hit him!” I retort.

“He didn’t make a scene by throwing you around the room, did he?” Gianni scolds. “It shouldn’t be my job to have to keep you out of trouble.”

“Then why do you? I was fine back there!”

“Sure you were. Getting manhandled by your step-uncles is fine to you? And I have to do it because you won’t do it yourself, moron.”

“Geez, just relax. I’ll behave.”

“You better,” he threatens, flexing his back and walking off.

Looking back over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Luca as he’s ushered into another room to give him a check-up. His facade drops for barely a moment as he shoots me a smirk.

Something in me shifts. I don’t know what it is, but watching him smile at me just feels strange. I do my best to shake off whatever feeling it is; it doesn’t matter .

It’ll be different next time. He won’t always have them to protect him, and then I’ll be the one left laughing.