22. Nico
Nico
Despite the hideous scar on my face, there’s nothing wrong with my hearing.
“That’s her, his children’s nanny. I’d feel sorry for her marrying such an ugly man if he wasn’t the Capo,” a girl whispers nearby, one of Matilde’s bullies.
“I’m sure she’s pleased with herself,” her mother replies, haughtily. “I don’t understand what he was thinking. There are many suitable unwed girls in the Midwest Trio. Why some unknown soldier’s daughter from the other side?”
My decision has already stirred its share of gossip, and I doubt that will end any time soon. To be safe, I’ll expend a little extra effort with my uncles and cousins today in order to make sure our famiglia is united against any who would question my reign.
“I can’t blame him. Her mother was a beauty, too,” a man’s voice adds, Carmine, the girl's father and one of my captains. “Unlike her whore mother though, our Capo will have Matilde’s little flower all to him-”
One glare silences him, and his wife and daughter turn pale, realizing they’ve been overheard. “I’m reorganizing before long,” I tell Dante, louder than necessary.
My brother turns, giving them his bat shit crazy smile. “I’d love to help with any downsizing.”
“Matilde Cerniglia,” the school principal intones solemnly. The small assembly beats their hands together as my future wife accepts her diploma. Glancing at my wristwatch once she’s crossed the stage, a rush of satisfaction fills me. In less than six hours, she’ll be mine.
“She looks ready to faint,” Dante comments. “I can’t blame her. She’ll go from graduation robes to her bridal gown to her wedding night in a handful of hours.”
“I’m wondering whether or not I’m actually glad we’re speaking again,” I drawl, annoyed.
I wish he hadn’t mentioned our wedding night.
My cock has its ideas, and I have my own.
I'm plagued day and night by fantasies involving her since the night she watched me shower. I told her I would claim her, but I meant once she’s ready.
I’ll protect her not only from the world but also from my darker desires.
The graduation ceremony is short – the school is small and only a handful of girls are finishing early – so we step outside into the December day and our waiting cars.
“Would you care to ride back with me, Matilde?” I ask, gesturing to my Mercedes.
I’ve been busy the past few days, but I want to speak with her, curious to know her thoughts about today.
“That would not be appropriate. We’ll gather soon enough for the wedding,” Mother snaps.
“I prefer to hear her answer.” Turning to Matilde, I see her confusion and concern over our testy exchange. If I didn’t believe this marriage was the best possible solution for everyone, I would never burden her with it.
“I have spa appointments with your mother and my sister,” she says. “But I will see you… later.” Her cheeks glow the prettiest shade.
“Very well,” I concede, stepping back. Mother takes both Matilde and Maddalena by the hand, leading them to the limo where Primo waits.
“When did Zeta Morelli turn into such a badger?” Dante muses.
I sigh, wondering the same.
***
“Capo, Don Vicini and his wife have arrived,” Primo tells me, poking his head into my father’s office a few hours later.
Once Primo’s disappeared, I face Dante. “You’re not going to bait him about Sofia, I hope.”
He only gives me that twisted smile of his before we step into the foyer.
“This is a surprise, Carlo. I did not expect you to travel all this way.” I didn’t particularly want him to come.
The wedding announcement was merely informative, but I suppose I should be grateful he’s kept his neutrality in our little civil war so far.
And grateful Carlo doesn’t know about Dante’s role in his ex-fiancée’s disappearance.
“The flight was nothing, and my wife wished to attend,” Carlo replies. “And when one of my capos marries, it’s an occasion, is it not?”
Dante’s eyes narrow dangerously at Carlo’s ‘one of my capos’ comment. I’m not so easily provoked. It’s true the three-headed wolf technically bows to one of those heads, but New York loves throwing their weight around a little too much sometimes, the pompous fuckers.
I turn my attention to his bride instead of dignifying his remark. “Signora Vincini, a pleasure to see you again. Our wedding has come together rather hastily, so I hope you’re not expecting anything grand.”
“It can’t be any hastier than ours,” she declares cheekily, elbowing the Don in his ribs. “Am I right, Carlo?”
His answering laughter surprises me. He’s usually more guarded in public.
It tells me something, too. Francesca’s something of a troublemaker, but it’s clear Carlo adores his spirited wife.
Love matches are so rare in the Trio. Matilde’s voice echoes in my mind – “Does that include love?” There is no reason to expect it.
Why would she ever love me? Better if she accepts a comfortable marriage of duty early on.
“I’ve been practicing my Italian,” Francesca mentions. “I would love to meet your bride-to-be before the ceremony if she wouldn’t mind.”
“Matilde speaks English very well, but the ladies are all upstairs if you wish to join them.” Bold as ever, she sprints off like a hare, causing Carlo to frown. “She is safe inside my parents’ home,” I assure him.
“She had better be.”
Is he displeased having her out of his sight in another man’s territory or does he doubt our protection? My first wife died in front of me. My breath grows short at the thought of history repeating itself. I will not lose Matilde.
“Your former father-in-law sends his regards,” Carlo observes once we’re settled in front of the fire with drinks.
“Is Russo pretending to be insulted that I didn’t wait for the customary year of mourning to pass?”
“It has raised some eyebrows.”
“My children need a mother.”
“Of course. I heard you had some trouble with one of your captain’s sons.”
“Giacomo Barzetti,” Dante chimes in with cruel relish. “The pussy shit his pants after Nico relieved him of a finger.”
“I suppose he’ll think twice about defying his Capo again,” Carlo comments, dryly.
I’m not as sure of that. I’ve not met with Giacomo since the incident, and though Antonio has openly said it was my right as Capo to punish any Trio man who disobeyed me, I do wonder what he’s said behind closed doors.
Father was content to get his ass kissed and his pockets full of cash.
I have different plans, and some don’t like that, including the Barzetti family.
A war with the West and potentially one in my own city.
I’ll fight them all if I must, but I have to keep my children and Matilde safe.
“He was Ritchie’s nephew, right?” Carlo asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
I’m not surprised he’s bringing up Gia’s dead husband and all the trouble that has brought.
He wanted concessions, not war, but Alessio wouldn’t give up his best friend.
“Alessio raised that bodyguard’s father to his Consigliere, meaning Armando Greco will likely follow in his footsteps when the old man retires.
I worry that will complicate Las Vegas and Chicago’s road back to peace. ”
“That’s not all that would,” I mutter, shooting a glance at Dante.
“Your bride is from Sicily, I hear. I have many cousins there. To your future happiness,” Carlo offers, raising his glass.
“Happiness,” I repeat, wondering if that’s possible. He appears to be a happily married man, but I know the marriage was not Francesca’s choice. No more choice than I’ve given Matilde.
And while Carlo Vicini’s good looks are well-known - models and society girls threw themselves at him in his bachelor days - Matilde will be married off to a man nine years her senior whose first wife couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Will you host a Seconda Notte?”
“Are you hoping to cheat on your wife as you did with your ex-fiancée, Vicini?” Dante taunts.
Carlo levels him with a glare that has me reaching for my knife. “I would cut my own throat before dishonoring my vows to Francesca, but if you have something you’d like to hash out, Morelli-”
“That won’t happen on my wedding day,” I break in. “There will be no Seconda, but we can meet early tomorrow to discuss business before your flight if you wish.”
“Bene,” Carlo agrees coolly as my mother enters.
The three of us stand, Carlo overflowing with the charm he’s famous for, but Mother is twisting her hands together, looking more than a little harried.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting. The bride requires the groom’s presence for a moment. More than a moment perhaps. In fact… you’d best go up, Nico. Right away.”
I’m not sure why I’m suddenly filled with panic until my brother spells it out for me.
“Translation – your bride is on the verge of climbing down the trellis to avoid making the biggest mistake of her life, so get your ass upstairs if you wish to stop her.”
“Fucking hell.”