2. Cesare
TWO
Cesare
I watch as Domenico's car disappears down the long driveway, taking Vittoria with it. The girl performed adequately tonight; I'll give her that. But I can already see the spark of defiance in her eyes—something that will need to be extinguished, and soon.
I must admit, I was surprised by her beauty. I saw pictures of her, but they didn’t do her justice. She’s beyond beautiful and I know that she’ll gain a lot of male attention. I’ve never been a man who gets jealous, but the thought of someone staring at her—lusting after her—infuriates me.
"Father," Lorenzo's voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn to face my eldest son, noting the tension in his jaw, and the barely concealed anger in his eyes.
"What is it, Lorenzo?" I ask, my tone clipped. I'm in no mood for another argument.
He takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "I need to speak with you about this... arrangement with the Costa family."
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. Lorenzo has never been one to mince words, a trait I usually appreciate. Tonight, however, I sense his hesitation.
"Vittoria is only nineteen," he finally says, his voice low but firm. "She's barely older than Elisabetta. This union... it doesn't feel right."
I let out a dry chuckle. "And since when has 'feeling right' ever been a consideration in our world, Lorenzo? You know as well as I do that this marriage is necessary for our family's survival."
Lorenzo's fists clench at his sides. "But at what cost, Father? We're talking about a child here."
"She's of legal age," I snap, my patience wearing thin. "And she's been raised for this life, just as you have. The Costas are a powerful ally, one we desperately need after last year's... unfortunate events."
I see Lorenzo flinch at the mention of last year. The wounds are still fresh for all of my children. Beatrice's death was unexpected. It hit the children hard. But we must move forward, for the sake of our empire.
"Besides," I continue, softening my tone slightly. "Vittoria will want for nothing here. She'll have wealth, protection, and status. Many women would kill for such an opportunity."
Lorenzo shakes his head, a bitter smile on his face. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify this, Father? That you're doing her a favor?"
His words sting more than I care to admit. For a moment, I see a flash of Beatrice in his eyes—that same determination. It's a trait that could either make Lorenzo a great leader one day or get him killed.
"Enough," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "This discussion is over. The wedding will proceed as planned. I expect you to fall in line and support this union, Lorenzo. For the good of our family."
Lorenzo holds my gaze for a long moment before finally nodding stiffly. "As you wish, Father," he says, his voice cold and detached.
As Lorenzo turns to leave, I catch a glimpse of Valentina lurking in the shadows of the hallway. Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she's been eavesdropping on our conversation.
"Valentina," I call out, my voice sharp. "Come here."
She emerges slowly, her posture defiant despite the fear I can see in her eyes. Of all my children, Valentina has always been the most unpredictable, the most like me.
"Yes, Father?" she asks, her tone carefully neutral.
I study her for a moment, noting the windswept hair and flushed cheeks from her late arrival at dinner. "Where were you this evening?"
She shrugs. A gesture that immediately sets my teeth on edge. "Out. I lost track of time."
"That's not an answer," I growl, taking a step toward her. "You will show respect to your new stepmother, Valentina. I won't tolerate any more of your rebellious behavior."
Anger flashes in her eyes, along with defiance. "Of course, Father," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll be sure to respect the teenager you're forcing into our family."
Before I can respond, she turns on her heel and storms off, her footsteps echoing through the cavernous hallway. I resist the urge to call her back, to punish her for her insolence. There will be time for that later.
For now, I have more pressing matters to attend to—wedding preparations, the consolidation of our power with the Costas, and the whispers of discontent from rival families. Of course, there's the matter of Vittoria herself.
I pour myself a glass of scotch, savoring the burn as I swallow. Vittoria may have performed well tonight, but I saw the fire in her eyes, the barely concealed intelligence behind her carefully chosen words. She will need to be molded, shaped into the perfect wife and mother for my children. Vittoria is young, yes, but she's also beautiful, intelligent, and clearly more than she appears on the surface. In another life, under different circumstances, she might have been a formidable ally. But in this world—our world—she must learn her place.
As I stare out at the gardens where the wedding will take place in just three short weeks, I can't help but feel a twinge of unease. The past year has been filled with doubt and uncertainty. After what happened with the Harringtons, one wrong move and our entire organization could blow up in our faces.
The Boston Elite Syndicate was formed decades ago when I was younger than Lorenzo. Back then, it was made up of four groups: the Italian Mafia, the Irish Mafia, the Russian Bratva, and the American Mob. Our fathers joined forces to prevent the rising death toll in Boston and to keep any single family from gaining too much power. They established a set of rules we were all meant to follow.
Then the East Street Kings started rising to power, and we had a choice: bring them into the fold or prepare for one of the biggest wars Boston had ever seen. The Syndicate grew from four families to five, and for years, everything ran seamlessly. That was until the Harringtons got greedy and demanded more than they were allotted. They were sneaky with their targets, striking outside Boston so we wouldn’t catch on. By the time we became aware of it, it was too late. Too many had died, including Beatrice.
Now the Boston Elite Syndicate is back down to four families, and we’re rebuilding its fragile foundation.
I drain my glass, setting it down with a sharp click. Whatever doubts my children may have, whatever misgivings Vittoria herself might harbor, none of it matters. This marriage will happen, and our family will emerge stronger for it.
The morning sun streams through the windows of my study as I wait for Vittoria to arrive. We're meant to discuss wedding details today, but I have other intentions as well. I need to gauge her true nature, to see beyond the carefully constructed facade she presented at dinner.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. "Enter," I call out, my voice firm.
Vittoria steps in, her posture straight and her expression carefully neutral. She's wearing a simple but elegant dark blue dress, her black hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Even in this casual state, her beauty is striking.
"Good morning, Mr. Mariano," she says, her voice steady.
"Cesare," I correct her. "We're to be married soon. You should use my first name."
A flicker of unease passes across her face before she nods. "Of course, Cesare."
I gesture for her to sit in the chair across from my desk. As she does, I notice the grace in her movements, the subtle confidence that defies her youth. This girl is more than she appears, I'm certain of it now.
"I trust you slept well?" I ask, more out of formality than genuine concern.
"Yes, thank you," she replies, her tone polite but distant.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "Let's discuss the wedding, shall we? I've taken the liberty of hiring a planner. She'll be here this afternoon to go over the details with you."
Vittoria nods, her expression unchanged. "That's very kind of you."
"I expect you to cooperate fully with her," I continue, watching her closely. "This wedding needs to be perfect. It's not just about us; it's about solidifying the alliance between our families."
At this, I see a flash of anger in her eyes. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Of course," she says smoothly. "I understand the importance of this union."
I lean back in my chair, studying her. "Do you?" I challenge. "Because I get the feeling there's more going on in that pretty head of yours than you let on."
Vittoria stiffens slightly, her eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "What exactly are you implying, Cesare?"
I smirk, pleased to have cracked her composure, even if just a little. "I'm not implying anything, Vittoria. I'm stating a fact. You're intelligent, far more so than you pretend to be. I saw it at dinner last night, in the way you handled my children's provocations."
For a moment, Vittoria says nothing, her gaze locked with mine. Then, slowly, a small smile curves her lips. It's not the demure smile she's worn before, but something sharper, more genuine.
"You're very perceptive," she says, her voice taking on a new edge. "But then again, I suppose you'd have to be, given your position."
I lean forward, intrigued by this sudden shift. "And what exactly do you know about my position, Vittoria?"
She tilts her head slightly, her eyes never leaving mine. "I know enough. The Boston Elite Syndicate, the alliance of families, the... unfortunate events of last year. I may be young, Cesare, but I'm not naive."
Her words hang in the air between us, a challenge and a revelation all at once. I feel a mix of admiration and wariness.
"Impressive," I concede. "But knowing about our world and living in it are two very different things. Are you prepared for what this life will demand of you?"
Vittoria's smile fades, replaced by a look of grim determination. "I've been preparing for this my entire life, whether I wanted to or not. I know what's expected of me."
"Do you?" I press, leaning closer. "Because let me make this very clear, Vittoria. Once we're married, you'll be mine. Your life, your body, your future—they all belong to me and this family. There's no going back."
I expect her to flinch, to show some sign of fear or hesitation. Instead, she meets my gaze unflinchingly. "I understand perfectly, Cesare. But let me make something clear as well. I may be young, I may be your wife soon, but I am not a toy to be played with or a pawn to be discarded. I will fulfil my role, but I expect to be treated with respect."
Her boldness catches me off guard. For a moment, I'm torn between anger at her audacity and admiration for her spirit. In the end, I find myself chuckling softly.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" I say, sitting back in my chair. "Very well, Vittoria. I can respect a woman who knows her own mind. But remember, respect is earned in our world. You'll have to prove yourself."
She nods, her posture relaxing slightly. "I understand. And I'm ready for whatever challenges come my way."
As I study her, I realize that this arrangement may be more than I initially thought. She's a force to be reckoned with, and I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. I won’t tolerate anything close to disrespect.
"We'll see," I say finally. "For now, focus on the wedding. We can discuss your... role in the family more thoroughly after the ceremony."
Vittoria stands, smoothing down her dress. "As you wish, Cesare. Is there anything else?"
I wave my hand dismissively. "No, that will be all for now. The wedding planner should be waiting for you.”
Vittoria nods and turns to leave, but I call out to her just as she reaches the door.
"One more thing, Vittoria," I say, my voice low and deliberate. She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and looks back at me. "Don't mistake my appreciation for your intelligence as weakness. I may respect a woman who knows her own mind, but I will not tolerate disobedience or disrespect. Is that clear?"
Resignation passes across her face before she schools her features back into that careful mask of neutrality.
"Crystal clear, Cesare," she replies, her voice steady despite the tension I can see in her shoulders.
As she leaves, I find myself mulling over our conversation. Vittoria is indeed more complex than I initially thought. Her intelligence and spirit could be valuable assets to our family, but they could also pose a threat if not properly controlled. I'll need to keep a close eye on her, to mold her into the wife and partner I need without breaking that intriguing spark entirely.
The sound of raised voices from the hallway interrupts my thoughts. I recognize Lorenzo's angry tone immediately, followed by Valentina's defiant retorts. With a sigh, I rise from my desk. It seems I have more fires to put out before the day is through.
As I step into the hallway, I see Lorenzo and Valentina facing off, their faces flushed with anger.
"What's going on here?" I demand, my voice cutting through their argument like a knife.
Lorenzo turns to me, his jaw clenched. "Valentina was trying to sneak out again. She was planning to meet that boy from her school."
Valentina's eyes flash dangerously. "I wasn't sneaking anywhere! And Marco is just a friend. Not that it's any of your business, Lorenzo!"
"Enough!" I bark, silencing them both. "Valentina, you know the rules. You don't leave this house without permission, especially not to meet some boy we know nothing about."
"But Dad—" she starts to protest, but I cut her off with a sharp look.
"No buts. You're grounded for the next week. No phone, no computer, no leaving your room except for meals and family obligations."
Valentina's face crumples in anger and frustration. For a moment, I think she might argue further, but then she turns on her heel and storms off toward her room, slamming the door behind her.
I turn to Lorenzo, noting the mixture of satisfaction and guilt on his face. "And you," I say, my voice low. "I appreciate you looking out for your sister, she’s going to rebel, we just need to ensure that she’s watched.”
Lorenzo nods stiffly. “Up her security?” he questions.
“Yes, and Sofia’s while you’re at it. I also want two of our men to become Vittoria’s guards.”
His jaw tenses and I know he’s fighting the urge to argue, but instead he gives a small nod and turns on his heel, ready to do what I need.
Christ, I have a feeling that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.