Black Widow’s Kiss (Mafia’s Submission #1)

Chapter 1

Dante

I swear, and God knows I love him, but if Matteo one day turned up dead in a ditch, my life would be so much easier. Don’t get me wrong, the streets of New York would run red with the blood I spill getting revenge. No one touches my brother. But even that would be easier than cleaning up his messes.

“You don’t know what happened,” Matteo claimed, his newly acquired nose ring becoming the only thing I can see.

“I don’t care what happened. You’re a goddamn Ricci. The man you murdered and dragged through the streets was a Yakuza made man.”

“Dante…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” I said hearing enough.

Standing with my fist on my desk was the only thing that prevented me from jumping over it and breaking his annoyingly perfect nose. The man protected his face in a fight like it was his goddamn money-maker.

“Look, our familial ties are the only thing stopping me from feeding you to those goddamn sharks myself.”

“You didn’t hear what he did to the girl,” Matteo claimed not backing down.

“I don’t care if he dismembered her limb from limb.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m saying it, ain’t I?”

“You say a lot of things. But you’re a lighter touch than I am.”

“I swear to God, Matteo!”

“It was Vincente’s little sister!” Matteo yelled stopping me in my tracks.

“What?”

“Yeah. You remember her, right? It was the little girl who used to follow me and Vincente around when we were kids. Seems that someone spread word around that she liked it rough. Then that figlio di puttana corners her high out of his mind and messed her up. She’s got scars she’ll never get rid of.”

I could feel the rage in me boil just hearing about it. The truth is I remember that girl. Back when I knew her, she had pigtails and hero worship for anyone attached to a family. Anyone who would take advantage of her like that had to die.

Matteo wasn’t wrong for ridding the planet of scum like that. Hell, if I heard about it first, I would have done it myself. But there were ways of doing it that didn’t lead to an all-out turf war.

Nobody likes it, but the Yakuza are a reality in New York and there’s no getting rid of them. Any opium that hits the streets is their doing. Global trade is beyond the reach of most families, except for the Lyons and the Cléments.

But with the head of the Lyon family gone and no one willing to take over, that just leaves the Cléments. They would have been the most likely to take control if not for two things. Armand has no male heirs, and word is that he now has a rat problem.

That void is an opportunity. Someone will step up. Who better than the Ricci family? Thanks to Papa releasing his grip on dealings, I’ve managed to extend our reach. Construction, lending, we’ve even made strides into diamonds. But one thing we can’t do is heroin.

First off, it’s nasty shit that leaves a city worse than you found it. That’s something my father would have done. But now we’re in the growth industry. We build things. We lend the money that makes the city better.

Those foreign fucks are using our city as their toilet. We can’t let that happen. But Matteo’s hot head just gave them the excuse they’ve been looking for to declare war. That’s not good for Ricci business.

“Look, Matteo, there are ways of doing things,” I said calming down.

“Yeah. The way I did it makes sure that no one will think twice about doing it again.”

Heat rushed through me. In sudden blind rage my fist nearly shattered the desk.

“No! He was a fuckin’ made man! Do you know what a fuckin’ made man is?”

Matteo wilted seeing I had lost it.

“I know what a made man is, Dante.”

“What is a fuckin’ made man?”

“It means he’s untouchable.”

“No! It means that if you touch him, someone’s head has to roll. Someone has to die. That’s it. No negotiation. Your action killed one of our men. Some goddamn kid is going to grow up without a father because of you. Did you take one second to consider that?”

“You didn’t see what he did to Vincente’s sister,” he said losing his asshole bravado.

“There are ways of doing it,” I said feeling the anger threatening to bubble up again.

“Alright, alright. I made a mistake. I screwed up. You could work your magic and get us out of this, can’t you?”

Seeing humility on Matteo was a new look. It caught me off guard pushing me back into my seat. Was this what would finally sink in for the man who couldn’t learn a lesson that didn’t involve hair gel?

“Come on, Dante. You can handle this, right? That fuck had it comin’. None of our men need to die for that.”

I stared at him seeing something I never saw in my younger brother before. I had never heard him talk like this. Was that fucker softening? He could use a few rounded edges. My life would be a lot easier if they were.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I said relenting.

Matteo beamed that goddamn smile that was usually the last thing his victims saw.

“I knew you could handle things. That’s why you got the tough job. Pa had it right when he put you in charge. You’re exactly who this family needs.”

“You’re a shit kiss-ass,” I told him, my mind swirling in search of a solution.

“I’m gonna leave you to it. If there’s anything you need me to do, you know I’m there for you.”

“You could hand yourself over to them and save me the trouble of knocking you out and taking you.”

Matteo froze not sure if I was joking.

“Don’t kid like that, Dante. One of our men might overhear and think you’re serious.”

“Oh, I am serious,” I said imaging my easier life. “I’d even put a little bow on you so they could open you under a tree.”

“Do those Japanese fucks even celebrate Christmas?”

“You better hope not. I could get my shopping finished real early.”

Matteo stared at me side-eyed.

“Don’t joke like that,” he said flashing signs of the madman I had no choice but to love.

Any hint of restitution was gone. Instead of learning from this, had he simply become a better actor? Maybe I should give him to the Yakuza. Would anyone blame me? That man had a sadistic streak that no one would miss.

“I’ll take care of it,” I told him, not knowing how, but sure I would.

“Thanks. But, I need to tell you, don’t ever question my judgment like that. It doesn’t feel good.”

I stared at him giving him nothing in response. That was usually the best way to deal with his crazy. It was like there were two people living in his body. One that would slit a man’s throat for looking at him funny. The other, the scared little boy I protected from Pa. There was no telling when either would come out.

Pa had done a number on all of his kids. None of us were affected more by it than Matteo was. There was definitely something wrong with our old man. Whatever it was, he passed on to Matteo. In ways, Matteo was becoming more like him every day. All I was left with was hope.

I was sure I could reach him before Pa’s grip was complete. There was still a good man in there somewhere. Until I found it, he was gonna tie corpses to the back of his car and drag them through Yakuza territory.

The thought of what he had done flowed over me. “Shit! How the fuck am I gonna get us out of this?”

The answer came to me as fast as I asked it.

Two years ago, when I took over the reins for the family, I had a visit from Sato. The Yakuza hadn’t yet gotten their foothold on New York’s heroin trade and the old man was grasping at straws. The word was his bosses were considering recalling him in the permanent sort of way. So Sato was fighting for his life.

The man had vision, I’ll give him that much. He saw the downfall of the Lyon’s coming a mile away and he proposed an alliance. But he didn’t just want our word. Those crazy son-of-a- bitches never did anything half way. He wanted family ties. He offered me his daughter in marriage.

My response was, “Fuck, no!”

I’ll admit, it was not my finest moment. To be fair, I was going through some things at the time. I was under a lot of pressure to take over and I saw marriage as the off switch to my pressure release valve.

Sure, I saw myself marrying someday. But, for me not to murder anyone who looked at me funny, I needed certain outlets. That required the right kind of marriage with a woman who turned a blind eye.

It turned out that Yuki was exactly who I needed. I hadn’t met her at that time. I think he said she was still in Japan. But seeing her at a ribbon cutting ceremony as their family’s representative, I knew I had made a mistake in refusing her.

At the ceremony, I didn’t see her look into a man’s eye once. It was all bows and humility. Japanese culture is very different from ours. I see that now. Turns out, she would have been the perfect wife. And now, it looks like she will be.

Insulted as he was by my rejection, Sato didn’t shut the door on his idea. The man’s life was a stake. He couldn’t afford to start a war over honor. So, two years later, here we are.

Number one, Matteo has made us indebted to the Yakuza. Number two, their global trade would cement the Ricci’s hold on the city. And number three, I still didn’t have a wife. It was just the wrong time before. Sato would understand that, right?

Wasn’t being patient a Japanese thing? That’s why they made those designs in the sand, wasn’t it? Shit, I didn’t know. If I was gonna marry Yuki, I was gonna need to know this stuff.

“You cannot marry into the Yakuza,” Pa declared from the head of the table at Sunday dinner.

‘How the fuck did he know about that?’ I wondered looking around at the assembled Ricci boys who filled their plates as if my getting married was old news. There was only one of my brothers I trusted with this, Lorenzo. And like usual, he wasn’t here.

“You’re marrying a Yakuza?” Matteo asked with a smirk. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Ever since my shit for brains brother killed a made man and I had to clean up his mess,” I spit melting his smirk.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” I said looking at my remaining three brothers as they quickly averted their eyes.

“The Yakuza can’t be trusted,” Pa proclaimed like the oracle on the mound.

“Yeah, Pa? Then what do you suppose I do?”

“Go to war. Or will you shame me as son who is afraid to fight?”

“He’s not afraid to fight, Pa,” Matteo said again showing me glimpses of a new man. “Dante would fight the best of them. He’s just fighting them in a different way.”

Was Matteo finally getting it?

“Only a coward runs from war,” Pa declared.

“And only a fool runs into one,” I told him not backing down.

“They will humiliate you. They will humiliate this family, and we’ll end up exactly where we started.”

The heat of fury blinded me. Slamming my fist in front of me, I shattered my plate sending food everywhere.

“Dante!” Ma yelled thinking she could control things like when I was five.

“No, Ma! I’ve had it with this shit,” I said getting up.

“Dante, sit down!” Ma insisted.

“I don’t mean to disrespect you, Ma, but this is ending right now.”

“And what is it that you’re ending?” Pa asked with more calm that he had a right to have.

That told me what he was thinking. Pa was built for confrontation. He lived for it. He made us into the killers we were with the broad side of a bat and the lit end of cigarette butts. While he did, he never flinched, just like he didn’t now.

Staring at him, he reminded me of the stakes. If you come at the king, you best not miss. Pa had us late in life but he wasn’t an old man. At least, not old enough to expect him to go off quietly. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see the grey hair and relentless wrinkles. He saw himself as a man who could take me.

Calming myself, I took a breath and then brushed speckles of Ma’s marinara from my vest.

“This second-guessing ends now,” I told Pa not needing to look at him. “Your role as the head of our family is complete. You will always be our father and we give you the respect you deserve for it. But when it comes to running the family business, that job is mine now.”

“I haven’t given you it, son,” he said coldly.

I looked at him assured.

“You don’t have to give it to me, Pa. I’m taking it.”

Stepping from the table, I crossed my parent’s cluttered living room and collected my jacket.

“Now, to clean up our family’s mess, I will be getting married. You can get on board with it or not. Frankly, I don’t care. This family needs to be led into the future. And your old ways are dead, Pa.

“If any of you would like to come to the wedding, I’ll send you an invitation. If not, I don’t give a fuck. Either way, you will respect me. And as the new head of this family, you will do what I say.”

With that, I adjusted my jacket, gave a final look at my stunned family and left.

I took a deep breath making sure to fill my lungs with the sweet smell of the Brooklyn streets as I descended the stairs to the sidewalk. Why? Because I knew the scent could be my last. No one talked to my father the way I just had. At least, no one who lived to talk about it.

My being his son didn’t make a difference. Word was that Pa once tried to kill his own brother. No one could confirm it because his brother disappeared soon after. The thought was that he moved back to Italy.

Every so often we would hear from him. Mostly during the holiday season. It usually came with a request for safe passage back into the country. But the fact that I’ve never met him, speaks to my father’s ability to hold a grudge.

Rounding the sidewalk, I started to believe that I had done it. I had claimed my independence and it was accepted. In his lack of immediate action, he had declared me the victor. I officially had the reins of the Ricci family. And my first official act was going to marry the woman who would allow my true life to begin.

“Dante!” I heard yelled as I was about to get into my car.

I braced myself. Would I turn around to a gunshot to the head? Who would I see staring back at me? Would it be Matteo? I should have considered the grip Pa had on him.

With nowhere to run, I steeled my spine and spun finding a surprise.

“Lorenzo! What’s going on?” I asked, seeing the brother who avoided these dinners like the plague.

“We need to talk,” he said approaching.

“Alright. Not here,” I replied scanning the streets and ushering him into my car.

Quickly pulling away, the brownstones whipped by us.

“What is it?” I said keeping one eye on the rearview mirror.

“There’s a word on the street. It’s about your upcoming marriage.”

“How is my marriage a word on the street? I only finalized that deal six hours ago,” I said not liking where this was going.

“If you think you finalized it, you might need to talk to Sato again.”

“And why is that?” I said feeling my neck warm.

“Don’t kill the messenger, Dante,” Lorenzo warned nervously, his lack of tattoos and lean build striking a strong contrast to Matteo and me.

“Why would I kill the messenger?”

“Because Sato doesn’t plan on offering you Yuki. He’s offering you Kuroi.”

My brother could not have missed how white I turned. My face tingled as I slowly left my body.

“Dante, did you hear me?”

“I heard you.”

“He’s trying to humiliate the family,” Lorenzo said pointing out the obvious.

It looks like Sato hadn’t gotten over me refusing his first marriage offer. This was how he was getting revenge. He wanted war for what Matteo had done to his man. And the only way out of it was for me to marry his son, the Black Widow.

“You’re not thinking about doing it, are you, Dante?”

I looked away as Pa’s words echoed in my head. He had been right about Sato. Fuck!

So, what did I do now? If I didn’t go through with it, my father would use it to undermine my still tenuous control over the business.

If I did marry Sato’s bastard off-spring, the chances of me ending up dead like all of his other lovers were damn near certain.

Maybe I was thinking about this wrong. Maybe all of the bat-shit crazy things I heard about Kuroi wasn’t true. Maybe everything going around about him was an exaggeration.

The street has been known to get things mixed up on occasion. What I heard about Kuroi could be one of those times. Because no one could be as out of their mind as he was supposed to be, could they?