Chapter 36
I didn’t know. Didn’t realize. And honestly, didn’t imagine.
What Ursin did to Madre and Serafina, I long rationalized. He was a villain. He took the war to another level and destroyed my family, but I was na?ve enough to assume his daughter was safe from him—especially that —selling her off for his own gains when she was still underage…Seems even Vanessa was a profit to be made, a connection to form.
It makes hating her that much harder. Surname aside, she’s more innocent than I believed. While I’m aware she’s not responsible for her father’s sins, she must be held accountable because it’s the only way years and years of work can pay off. I failed at taking out Ursin; if I let her go, I’ve failed Padre utterly and completely.
It won’t be the first time I felt like I’ve failed him.
Five. Fucking. Years. Five agonizing years in which Ursin Volkov and his family have roamed free while I’ve dealt with the trauma he scarred mine with. Five years of watching Elio, Padre’s second, take the position of Capo, even when he told the Commission he didn’t want the job, and to promote me, despite my age.
Today’s my eighteenth birthday, which means the position is mine. More so, I can finally strike against the Bratva. Elio’s supported my revenge ploy since the moment I called him, sobbing over Padre’s deceased body. He was the only person who was allowed to see my pain, given he’s been my honorary uncle for most of my life. But the damn Commission forbade him from retaliating against the Bratva, threatening to remove him as Capo and me as successor if we went behind their backs. Then the organization would be handed to another family and out of my hands forever. The Commission has that power since Elio isn’t a Mancini relative nor from the original Five Family bloodlines, he’s held to stricter standards than Padre was. Then I will be.
Elio’s hand comes down on my shoulder as we settle in front of the laptop, for the virtual meeting with the Commission. “Ready, Capo?”
“Not who I am yet.”
The screen flashes as the meeting begins, and seven faces fill smaller boxes. No one moves at first, all identical statues of old mobsters, and I hold my breath, counting how long it’ll take before they finish with their stare down.
Ten seconds until the centre one shifts and leans toward his screen. “Young Mancini. Hello.” Withered, thin lips pull up on the sides in the closest thing he can get to smiling.
I’m no longer young. That’s the entire point of this meeting, but I bite my tongue and greet him cordially back.
“This won’t take long,” he starts. “The others and I have already discussed the matter of your succession. We feel you’re not quite ready for the role of Capo.”
Not quite ready.
Not ready.
I’ve worked every fucking day for five years alongside Elio getting ready and they’re claiming otherwise?
I feel weak. Like my limbs are faltering, even as I’m sitting, and my head pounds. They can’t do this to me. To Padre. To our Family.
“What?” I finally manage to choke out. “Why?”
The Commission member’s lips thin even more. “You’re too young, Zeno. We’ve been watching you since your padre died. You’ve been irrational. Temperamental. It’s too risky having you lead the businesses right now.” His eyes flick to Elio beside me. “You will remain in interim for the time being. Same rules apply; if we catch wind of you continuing this war, we’ll have you both removed.”
Beneath the table, my hands latch tightly around the chair, forcing my rage into it before not-so-accidentally throwing the laptop across the room. “You’re willing to allow a capo’s death to go unpunished? Ursin Volkov deserves to pay. Why won’t you see that?”
“You’re only proving our point, young Mancini.”
I huff, my pounding heart trying to cool itself before the asshole Commission members make this worse. “Fine, but I’ll promise you this: you better keep your scouts watching me because every single fucking day from here on out, I will prove I’m fine to lead.”
“Do that.”
The screen switches off, leaving the room in tense silence.
“I’m sorry, Zeno. I wish we could ? —”
“I’m failing Padre,” I interrupt. Maybe they’re right, and I haven’t shown much responsibility since his death. For a while I stopped contributing at all, stopped working deals, only focusing on the Volkovs’ demise. “No longer. Padre will be avenged, but for now, the Commission needs to see they’re wrong. It’s one thing to allow his murder to go unpunished, but another to watch the organization fall into another Family’s control.” Padre would despise that more, considering the Mancinis have been a part of the Five Families since the Cosa Nostra’s conception.
When tightness courses through me and I fall against my door— my door because out of all the rooms in this place, mine seemed the most suitable—I return from the memory of one of my worst days.
After waiting seven goddamn years from Padre’s death to my eighteenth birthday, the Commission dragged my hell out longer and made me wait another three. On my twenty-first birthday, they agreed I worked hard and felt I had the Cosa Nostra’s best interests at heart.
Remaining quiet for the five years following, up until Ursin’s death, was semi purposeful and semi not. At first, I played nice, before the Commission found any reason to yank my power away, but then Volkov kept disappearing on me and it was a game of cat and mouse where neither of us was the cat.
I failed Padre when I was eighteen by not being good enough to succeed him. I failed him again by not being behind Ursin’s murder. I refuse to fail him now. Which is why, what Vanessa’s admitted can’t change anything, no matter how much I might sympathize.
Before my stupid bleeding heart entertains the notion of returning inside and continuing our conversation, I shove off the doors and head for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The villa was quiet when we entered earlier, which means Nero, if I know him, is probably hiding with a liquor bottle on the back deck.
When I pass through the kitchen, Venus lifts her head from her food dish and glances past me. Damn disloyal dog, preferring my captive, but maybe that’s just Vanessa’s personality. As much as I hate to admit, she’s alluring, and has been since the first instance she looked my way. She’s Venus herself, the Roman goddess of love, beauty, sex, fertility, and victory.
Vanessa. Volkov. Venus. There’s irony.
I pat Venus’ head as I pass. “Traitor.”
Her panting tongue and wagging tail tell me she has no idea what I’ve said. She trots behind me as I continue through the kitchen and toward the back door, spotting a figure through the glass doors. Venus pushes past me when I open the door, heading to greet him. At this point, I’d think the dog loves everyone more than me.
“Hey, hey!” Nero shoves off the railing at her approach and after a few quick pets, nods to me. “Look who’s alive. You had me worried.”
I scan the half-empty bottle of clear alcohol in his hand, trying to recall how full it was the last time I had some. Sober Nero is easier to deal with, though it seems like those days occur less and less lately. He claims it’s easier to drown the demons in his head than talk to them.
Nero Amato is my long-time best friend, despite his family not having any mob connections. When we were both eight, he accidentally drove his bike into my limo door at school drop-off. I’d already known him since we shared the same class, but the silly accident brought us together, and we never separated after that.
His father, who’s a baker with a shop in the downtown core, initially disliked that his son was hanging around the child of a known criminal, while mine hated me being around civilians. Neither separated us, likely assuming we’d eventually grow apart, but never did.
When we were twelve, Padre increased my training, and at fourteen, Nero joined the ranks, choosing the mob over being a baker, much to his father’s dismay because their bakery’s been in their family for five generations. Nero worked hard to catch up and in only one year, he was inducted. We fought side by side for years, ran businesses and deals and whatever Padre asked of us together, up until his death. Once I finally became Capo, Elio insisted on taking the position of Captain so Nero could be my second, stating it was only natural.
I drop onto the nearest chair in the outdoor seating set-up, kicking my feet up onto another. “You messaged. I responded. No need to worry.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head with a sly grin, coming over to lean on the chair’s backing that’s propping up my feet. “I meant, you were upstairs with her for so long.” His gaze flicks quickly to the second floor, though my room’s window isn’t in sight from here. “I was worried she finally fought back.”
If only she did. I’d much rather have had a battle instead of the verbal exchange we had.
“She’s not fighting at all, which is worrisome. The Vanessa we’ve been stalking wouldn’t be this accepting.”
After another heady swig from the bottle, he gestures to me with it. “She’s trying to lower your guard.”
“It’s working.” I deduced that much. Even buzzed Nero isn’t as helpful, and right now, I need my second. The man serious about his job so we can make it through these next few days.
Reaching forward, I swipe the bottle from his grip. His slow reflexes have him trying to take it back only after it’s in my hand. He grunts. “You deserve a drink after what you did.”
Without plans to have any for myself, I shake the bottle back and forth, the liquid sloshing the sides. “How long have you been at this?”
“Hm...” He purses his lips. “Not long. Bit before you pulled up.”
“Thanks for hiding.”
He crooks a finger toward me in a mock salute. “Figured she probably should think it’s only you here.”
“And Venus.” The dog’s lying on the wooden deck beneath my chair, soaking in all the afternoon sun with contented pants. “Two-timing dog actually greeted her.” Considering how Venus acts around strangers, surprise is too simple a word to describe my opinion on it.
Nero chuckles, rubbing a hand over his cheek, scratching at the growing shadow. “Odd considering a dog’s senses run strong.”
“Not strong enough to sniff out the evil in her blood apparently.”
Nero’s head tilts a fraction, dark strands of hair falling across his forehead. “That your way of saying she’s not like her father?” An unfazed gaze pins me with a look only a twenty-year friendship could manage. At least, some of the alcohol seems to be clearing from his system.
“No, and we knew that already so stop making me say it. Vanessa’s collateral damage. Price of bearing the Volkov name. Same as?—”
He waves his hand. “I know, I know. I get it.” He glances up to the second floor again, his eyes squinting with words unsaid.
For my entire life, Nero’s been by my side. He was there when my family was first ripped apart by Ursin’s actions, and again when Ursin shot my padre. He’s never been anything less than supportive in my war. Until now. Because his blatant avoidance speaks volumes.
“You don’t approve.” It’s a statement.
He frowns, coming back to look at me. “Since Ursin’s death, the Bratva hasn’t done anything because Vanessa’s too busy chasing her own domination to look into past debts. I feel for her, that’s all. Also, I’m worried about you too, man. For years, you’ve hunted this family, and now you have the creatin’s daughter, but what do you do? Keep her alive. Bring her back here. Guess I’m tryin’ to keep up.”
I rest the liquor off to the side, on the farthest edge of the table and straighten from my slouch. “Did a lot of thinking when I was shot, and realized that there’s other ways to get rid of the Volkovs without murdering an innocent woman. Madre’s pain lives on forever, so Volkov’s should as well. Had he been alive, he’d beg me to kill Vanessa over my newest plan. Un'unione. ”
“A union ,” he translates, coughing through his sudden inability to breathe properly. “You mean, you’ll marry her?”
Crazy, I know. Sometimes I wonder if the blood loss sustained from my leg wound fucked me up. Doing this would mean Ursin’s legacy will be completely tarnished, so it’s a debt officially repaid. Killing off the Volkovs is too kind when I can simply control them.
“Think about it. Miss Volkov wants nothing to do with marriage. She’s admitted it to me. She’s shown it in past actions. Since becoming Pakhan, there’s never been a hint of her seeking a husband. She’s desperate to stand on her own and prove herself to anyone comparing her to Ursin. If I kill Vanessa, one of three remaining Volkovs are gone, but the Bratva continues. Someone else will rise up in their place.” A point she made yesterday but I couldn’t admit how I already figured that out. “With her alive and linked to me, the Bratva is ours to control.”
His slow smile spreads across his face. “Diabolical. I kinda like it. Though it’ll have your father rolling over in his grave.”
“Yeah, but it’ll also have hers, and that’s the key part.”
He whistles, slapping the back of the chair as he straightens. “You think you’re honestly getting that woman to an altar?”
I scoff. “Don’t have to. We’ve tracked enough of her documentation that with the right payout, some judge will overlook the falsified signature on the marriage certificate. Never said she’d be agreeing to anything.”
“That’s it then? You’re in for a long life with her by your side.”
Maybe. With her on a very short leash, I’ll be controlling the Cosa Nostra and the Bratva, and we’ll be an unbeatable force to anyone who’d try. She could come to appreciate the protection to her people. Could being a slim-to-unlikely percentage because Vanessa will fight this with her entire being.
I kind of want her to. Show me she’s the queen she claims to be, even as her authority over her dominion diminishes day-by-day. Though, after what she told me upstairs, a small streak of guilt has me feeling for her. What’s the difference between me and her father?
“Won’t be a real marriage anyhow,” I add with a shrug. “She’s a tool and nothing more. Ever play chess, Nero? The king isn’t associated with a point value because they’re too powerful to limit to a specific numeric price, but the queen is. She has a value, and hers is about to be all used up.”
Her comment comes back to me: “Women are a commodity, so even bearing his last name couldn’t save me.”
It still won’t.
The woman I’ve come to know might not deserve this, but the thing with vows, is they’re too significant. Men have lived and died by a few choice words, and I can’t die while a Volkov still walks the earth unchecked for what Ursin has done.
“It’s a mercy shown to the Merciless Queen,” I continue. “Consider it a lesson to her. I’ll control her, her precious Bratva, and the remainder of her family.” If she chooses to allow Ivan to live after this, that is.
He turns his head slightly, looking up toward the second floor. “Seems like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.”
No.
Am I?
The two answers hover on the tip of my tongue, but thankfully Nero goes on and saves me from having to choke out a response. “Well…I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t go along with your crazy.”
“Very true.” I slide the bottle across the table and back into his waiting hand. With the conversation over, he can continue healing wounds cut into him from before our friendship. “I’m off to get Serafina. It’s soon time for Vanessa to know everything, but in the meantime, it’s probably best she stew alone for a bit.”
Nero watches me head toward the deck’s steps. “Need backup?”
“Room’s locked, but make sure she doesn’t find a way to burn the house down or anything. And in the meantime, I need a favour.”