Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
cesare
I watch as Domenico's car disappears down the long driveway, taking Vittoria with it. The girl performed well tonight, I'll give her that. Better than I expected, actually. But I caught that spark of defiance in her eyes, that flash of intelligence she tried to hide behind polite smiles.
It'll need to be extinguished. And soon.
I have to admit, I was caught off guard by her beauty. The pictures didn't do her justice, not even close. She's fucking stunning, and I know that'll bring unwanted attention. I've never been a jealous man, but the thought of other men staring at her, lusting after what's mine?
It infuriates me.
"Father?" Lorenzo's voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to face my eldest son, noting the tension in his jaw and the barely controlled anger burning in his eyes.
"What is it, Lorenzo?" My tone is clipped. I'm not in the mood for another argument tonight.
He takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep his composure. "I need to speak with you about this... arrangement with the Costa family."
I raise an eyebrow, waiting. Lorenzo's never been one to mince words—usually a trait I appreciate. Tonight, though, I can sense his hesitation, and it pisses me off.
"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."
A dry chuckle escapes me. "And since when has 'feeling right' ever been a fucking consideration in our world, Lorenzo? You know as well as I do that this marriage is necessary for our family's survival."
His fists clench at his sides. I can see him fighting the urge to say something he'll regret. "But at what cost, Father? We're talking about a kid here."
"She's of legal age," I snap, my patience running thin. "And she's been raised for this life, just like you have. The Costas are powerful allies, ones we desperately need after last year's clusterfuck."
I see Lorenzo flinch at the mention of last year. The wounds are still fresh for all my children. Beatrice's death hit them hard. It hit all of us hard. But we have to move forward. For the sake of our empire, for our survival.
"Besides," I continue, softening my tone slightly, "Vittoria will want for nothing here. Wealth, protection, status. Many women would kill for what she's getting."
Lorenzo shakes his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify this, Father? That you're doing her a favor?"
His words sting more than I want to admit. For a moment, I see Beatrice in his eyes; that same stubborn determination, that moral compass that could either make him a great leader or get him killed.
"Enough," I growl, 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."
The coldness in his voice reminds me too much of myself at his age. As he turns to leave, I catch a glimpse of Valentina lurking in the shadows of the hallway. Her eyes are wide. She's been eavesdropping on our conversation.
Little shit.
"Valentina," I call out sharply. "Come here."
She emerges slowly, her posture defiant despite the fear I can see flickering in her eyes. Of all my children, Valentina has always been the most unpredictable. The most like me, if I'm being honest.
"Yes, Father?" she asks, her tone carefully neutral.
I study her for a moment, taking in 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 a fucking 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 bullshit."
Anger flashes in her eyes, bright and defiant. "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 and storms off, her footsteps echoing through the hallway. I resist the urge to call her back, to make her pay for her insolence right now. There'll be time for that later.
For now, I have bigger problems to deal with. Wedding preparations, consolidating power with the Costas, managing the whispers of discontent from rival families. And of course, there's the matter of Vittoria herself.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey and savor the burn as it slides down my throat.
Vittoria performed well tonight, but I saw the fire in her eyes, the intelligence she tried to hide behind carefully chosen words.
She'll need to be molded, shaped into the perfect wife and mother for my future children.
She's young, yes. But she's also beautiful, intelligent, and clearly more than what appears on the surface. In another life, under different circumstances, she might have been a formidable ally.
But in this world, our world, she needs to learn her place.
As I stare out at the gardens where the wedding will take place in three weeks, unease settles in my chest. This past year has been nothing but doubt and uncertainty. After what happened with the Harringtons, one wrong move could blow our entire organization to pieces.
The Boston Elite Syndicate was formed decades ago, when I was younger than Lorenzo is now.
Four families back then: Italian Mafia, Irish Mafia, Russian Bratva, and American Mob.
Our fathers joined forces to stop the rising death tolls in Boston, to ensure no single family became too powerful. There were rules we followed.
Then the East Street Kings started rising, and it was either 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 it worked seamlessly.
That was until the Harringtons got greedy. Wanted more than their share. They were sneaky with their targets, keeping the violence out of Boston. By the time we realized what was happening, it was too late. Too many had died.
Beatrice included.
Now the Boston Elite Syndicate is down to four families again, and we're rebuilding from fucking scratch. Every alliance matters. Every move we make is being watched by our enemies, who are waiting for us to show weakness.
I drain my glass and set it down with a sharp click. Whatever doubts my children have, whatever misgivings Vittoria harbors, none of it matters. This marriage will happen, and our family will emerge stronger.
It has to.
The morning sun streams through my study windows as I wait for Vittoria to arrive. We're supposed to discuss wedding details today, but I have other intentions. I need to gauge her true nature, to see beyond the carefully constructed mask she wore at dinner.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. "Enter," I call out.
Vittoria steps in, posture straight, expression carefully neutral. She's wearing a simple but elegant dark blue dress, her black hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Even dressed down, her beauty is striking.
Fuck. I'm in trouble.
"Good morning, Mr. Mariano," she says, voice steady.
"Cesare," I correct her. "We're getting married soon. Use my first name."
Unease flickers across her face before she nods. "Of course, Cesare."
I gesture to the chair across from my desk. As she sits, I notice the grace in her movements, the subtle confidence that defies her youth. This girl is definitely more than she appears.
"I trust you slept well?" I ask, more out of habit than genuine concern.
"Yes, thank you," she replies, polite but distant.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "Let's discuss the wedding. I've hired a planner. She'll be here this afternoon to go over details with you."
Vittoria nods, expression unchanged. "That's very kind of you."
"I expect full cooperation," 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."
There—a flash of anger in her eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, but I caught it.
"Of course," she says smoothly. "I understand the importance of this union."
I lean back, studying her. "Do you? Because I get the feeling there's more going on in that pretty head than you let on."
Vittoria stiffens slightly, her eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "What exactly are you implying, Cesare?"
I smirk, pleased to crack her composure even slightly. "I'm not implying anything, Vittoria. I'm stating a fact. You're intelligent, far more than you pretend. I saw it at dinner, in how you handled my children's provocations."
For a moment, she says nothing, her gaze locked with mine. Then slowly, a small smile curves her lips. Not the demure smile from 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 shift. "And what, exactly, do you know about my position, Vittoria?"
She tilts her head slightly, never breaking eye contact. "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 between us, challenge and revelation all at once. I feel a mixture of admiration and wariness. This girl is definitely more than she seems, and that could be dangerous.
"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?"
Vittoria's smile fades, replaced by grim determination. "I've been preparing my entire life, whether I wanted to or not. I know what's expected."