12
Sebastino
Jumping in the SUV like my ass is on fire. I can’t unsee that look of hurt in her eyes when I shoved her towards Daren. It's like a punch to the gut, and it weighs heavily on my shoulders, dragging me down into a pit of regret and frustration. But there's no time to dwell on it now, not with Enzo beside me, shooting off his smart-ass remarks like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“Bit of a dick move, huh?” Enzo quips as he shifts the car into drive.
“Just fucking drive, Enzo.” I'm not in the mood for this.
I'm aware that it's a dick move, and I don't need to be reminded.
“I thought you were good with this happening,” he says with a sly smirk.
Staring out the window, I don't even bother responding. Not like I know what the fuck got into me; I’m just fucked up.
Enzo's phone blares through the Bluetooth, bringing me out of my thoughts. Before I can see who it is, Enzo comments, "It’s your father."
"Don't answer it."
"Hello, Don Antonio," Enzo chirps through the Bluetooth.
Didn’t I just tell him not to answer?
"Where is my damn son?" Dad's voice booms through the car, making my head pound more than it already is.
"Urh. Um," Enzo stammers, clearly caught off guard by the directness of Dad's question.
"Enzo, where is he?" Dad's frustration is palpable.
Fuck, he’s pissed."I’m right here, what's up?" I respond, acting calm despite the chaos swirling around us.
"Where the fuck are you? You can't just leave your wedding like that," Dad snaps.
"This wedding was for you, not me. I did my part and left," I retort, my tone laced with defiance.
"Sebastiano Antonio Morelli. You have five minutes to get to this reception or-"
I cut him off before he can finish, refusing to entertain his threats.
"Just say we are excited to consummate the marriage and have started our honeymoon." Hopefully, he buys it because I'm not going back, and we aren't taking a honeymoon, but it gives me time to get my shit together without him down my throat.
"Fine, go take your honeymoon," putting too much emphasis on the ending of the word.
I’m ready to hang up, but he keeps going.
"You have two years to produce an heir, or I'll consider this a broken deal. And you know the outcome." I swear I can feel him laughing through the phone as all my breath leaves my body.
Does a hangover cause hallucinations?
I couldn't have heard him right.
"A what?" That is all I can force out.
He calmly states, "It was outlined in the contract you signed. Did you sign a contract without reading it?" Sounding lighter as he speaks again. "The marriage is completely authentic now, not just a show for outside appearances. You are expected to treat her as your wife and soon-to-be mother of your children. I’ll let the Russo’s know that the Morelli heir will be here much sooner than expected. Enjoy your honeymoon, son." He laughs as he hangs up.
I’m a fucking fool. I didn't read the contract and definitely didn’t see the baby clause. He knew I hadn't read it. Everything that day happened so fast. Peter was shaking her, and I couldn't watch that, so I pulled her away. I tried giving her an out. But when I saw the look of fear in her eyes, I couldn't say no. I was hoping she would.
As I was leaving the brunch, Dad took a second away from passing Mia around like a show pony and told me to sign the contract, making the deal official. I signed in a rush to get the fuck out of there.
"Pull over," I bark, the urgency in my voice leaving no room for argument.
No sooner does Enzo bring the car to a halt than I wrench open the door and empty the contents of my stomach onto the pavement.
Peeking over the passenger seat, Enzo asks cautiously, "You alright?"
He knows better than to step out of the car. I don’t need him hovering around playing nursemaid.
“Never better,” I mutter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I slump back into the seat.
His eyes linger on me, but I don't need his damn sympathy.
“Just drive,” I grunt, staring out the window, hoping to avoid any further conversation.
As the car lurches forward, I can't shake off my dad's words, replaying in my mind like a relentless drumbeat. The weight of this fucked-up situation settles on my chest like a ton of bricks, threatening to overpower me.
I think I might throw up again.
How the hell did I miss that damn clause? I wonder if Mia knows about it. Mia, the woman I'm legally bound to—for now, at least. It's my own damn fault for not reading the fine print, but it was early in the morning, and the day had already started as a shitstorm.
Did my dad manipulate me?
Fury simmers beneath my skin, the anger boiling inside me threatening to spill over—or maybe it's just the nausea creeping back in. I'm not sure of anything anymore. How the hell do I get myself out of this mess? I can barely take care of myself, and now I've got a whole damn mafia to run, a wife to deal with, and apparently, a kid to raise?
Well, this just escalated real fucking quick.
I feel Enzo's eyes on me again, but he's treading lightly, probably because he's never seen me like this before.
"What the hell was that? Wedding night jitters or did you have too much to drink last night?" he finally asks, unable to keep silent any longer.
Either he missed that whole heir part, or he's just not fazed by it. "It was your idea to go drinking last night," I mutter back, staring out the window, not wanting to discuss this anymore.
"Bro, you laid in bed for a week straight. You needed a night out. Plus, it was your bachelor party. I didn't know you were going to get so fucked up that I had to come over and wake you up today. I nearly dressed you myself," he says, his eyes flicking back to the road.
Remembering earlier today, Enzo bursting into my room, suit in hand, and getting me to the church just in time, well, almost in time. It's this fucker's fault; I could have overslept and avoided this whole fucked up nightmare.
I chuckle at the thought of Dad's reaction if I didn't show up at all. Forget the title. He’d kill me himself. I know it's not Enzo’s fault. Deep down, I'm pissed at myself for getting into this situation. I know I fucked up, and I should probably go home and talk to Mia about this, but I can't contemplate any more of this new life. I lost control of everything within minutes. Add one hell of a hangover to that, and I can't focus on anything. Maybe beating the shit out of a few fuckers who think they can mess with the Morellis and having a drink after will calm me down. I need a drink after today, maybe ten.
Coming up to a stop, he glances my way again, more cautiously this time. "Where to, boss?"
"The loading docks, we still have to figure this out," I grunt, relieved to have something to occupy my mind. "And then we’re going to Diavolo," I add just as the car moves forward again.
We drive in silence, neither of us speaking again until we get to the docks, which leaves me stewing over today's events.
As Enzo parks the car, I find myself lost in thought, my gaze drifting out the window. My phone sits aimlessly in my hand, my thumb idly tapping the screen, scrolling through messages and notifications, though I'm not paying attention to any of them. It's just a way to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.
Stepping out of the car, we head towards the south side of the docks. This side is secluded from the main street, allowing a discreet entrance for shipments to come in unnoticed. Unnoticed until they started coming up short, and men began disappearing. Telling me right away that this isn’t the cops or FEDs, this has to be a fucking rival. They’ll be sorry when I find out who is behind this.
As we near the cargo containers, I see Greg standing nervously, waiting for us. The tension thickens as we get closer, and I know I won't like what he has to say.
"What the hell is going on, Greg?" I bark at the dock manager. He may not work for me directly, but we line his pockets to keep shit like this from happening.
The fucker starts stuttering, “I-I’m sorry, Boss. I don’t know what’s been going on with the shipments.” He shifts uncomfortably from side to side. “They are arriving and being checked in, but we don’t look inside to see what is there, as you instructed.”
"Yeah, I know what I instructed," I growl, keeping my tone curt. The less Greg knows, the better. His guys are only supposed to verify the container and move it to our side so my men can handle the rest.
Enzo spoke to him earlier about pulling the CCTV footage—I was hoping he had a lead, but his demeanor doesn’t show it. Someone targeting our shipments is a direct attack on the Morelli name.
"Check the footage," I bark, turning towards Enzo.
"That’s the thing, Boss. I checked myself and didn’t see anything suspicious," Greg mumbles.
My jaw tightens. “There has to be something. Casper, the gun smuggling ghost, isn't stealing my shit." I don't have time for excuses. I grab Greg by the throat and slam him into a container. Smirking as the weak fucker turns red in the face, clawing at my hands, trying to get a breath he desperately needs. He’s more useless if he passes out, so I drop him to the ground and watch as he struggles to catch his breath. “Enzo, check the footage.” I hate repeating myself.
I pace back and forth in front of the monitors, my mind racing with possibilities. Could it be one of my own men? A disgruntled employee looking to make a quick buck? Or maybe it's someone from a rival crew trying to fuck with me, maybe undermine my authority.
I need answers, and I need them now. "Get every damn camera angle checked. I want to know who's been coming and going from this dock, and I want to know yesterday." I instruct, turning back towards my second in command
Enzo nods, his expression serious as he gets to work. He knows as well as I do that we can't let this slide. Whoever is behind this needs to be dealt with. No one fucks with Sebastiano Morelli and gets away with it.
But even as I seethe with anger, I can't shake the thought: why would anyone dare to be so bold? Have they forgotten who the hell I am? I shake my head, pushing aside those thoughts for now. Right now, I need to focus on finding out who's behind this and making them pay. And trust me, when I find them, they will pay.