Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
cesare
I adjust my tie in the mirror, mind preoccupied with the evening ahead. Tonight's gala is for Boston's elite, a night filled with meaningless chatter and annoying politicians who want to shake our hands, trying to get us on their side for the next election.
Fucking parasites, all of them.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. "Enter," I call out, turning toward the door.
Vittoria steps in, and for a moment I forget to breathe. She's wearing a deep red gown that hugs every curve before flowing out like liquid fire. Her dark hair is swept up in an elegant style that exposes her neck—a neck I marked last night with my teeth.
She's breathtakingly beautiful, and I feel a surge of possessive pride knowing she's mine.
"Are you ready?" I ask, voice gruffer than intended.
She nods, expression carefully neutral. "Yes, Cesare," she says quietly, her Irish accent making her words sound almost musical.
As we make our way to the car, I notice tension in her shoulders, the slight tremor in her hands as she smooths her dress. She's nervous. Good. A healthy dose of fear will keep her sharp tonight.
"Remember," I say as we slide into the limousine, "tonight is about presentation. You are my wife, the new matriarch of the Mariano family. Act accordingly."
Vittoria turns to me, eyes flashing with defiance. "I understand my role, Cesare. I won't embarrass you."
I reach out, grasping her chin firmly. "See that you don't," I warn softly. "The consequences would be... unpleasant."
For a moment, I see fear flicker in her eyes before she masks it with a cool smile. "Of course, husband," she says, tone just shy of sarcastic.
The rest of the ride passes in tense silence. As we pull up to the hotel, I turn to Vittoria once more.
"Stay close to me," I instruct. "Don't wander off, and don't speak unless spoken to. Understood?"
She nods, taking a deep breath like she's steeling herself. "Understood."
As we enter the ballroom, all eyes turn to us. I feel Vittoria stiffen beside me, but she keeps her head high, serene smile perfectly in place.
Good girl.
I place my hand possessively on her lower back, noting how every man in the room watches her with barely concealed lust. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to pull out my gun and start shooting these fuckers for daring to look at what's mine.
I lead Vittoria to our table where Lorenzo waits and note the name cards. On my right will be Lorenzo, seated beside Johann "Der Wolf" Krieger, head of the Albanian Mafia in Germany.
As we approach, Lorenzo's eyes widen slightly at the sight of Vittoria. He quickly masks his surprise, standing to greet us.
"Father, Vittoria," he says, nodding respectfully. "You both look wonderful this evening."
"Thank you, Lorenzo," I reply, pulling out Vittoria's chair before taking my own seat. "Everything in order?"
Lorenzo nods, expression serious. "Yes, Father. All security measures are in place, and our... special guests have arrived safely."
I nod, satisfied. Tonight isn't just about maintaining appearances. There are deals to be made, alliances to strengthen. And having Vittoria by my side, young and beautiful, is a powerful statement.
"Ah, Cesare!" Johann's loud voice cuts through the noise as he approaches our table. "And this must be your lovely new bride."
I stand to greet him, shaking his hand firmly. "Johann. Yes, this is my wife, Vittoria."
Vittoria rises gracefully, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Krieger."
Johann takes her hand, bringing it to his lips. "The pleasure is all mine, my dear. Please, call me Johann."
I notice how his eyes linger on Vittoria, and a surge of possessive anger hits me. I place my hand on her lower back; a subtle reminder of who she belongs to.
"Vittoria, why don't you get us drinks?" I suggest, my tone making it clear it's not really a request.
She nods, understanding the dismissal. "Of course. Excuse me, gentlemen."
As Vittoria walks away, Johann watches her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. "She's exquisite, Cesare," he says, voice low. "You're a lucky man."
I force a smile, pushing down the urge to punch him. "Indeed. Now, shall we discuss business?"
As Johann and I dive into discussions about territory and trade routes, I keep one eye on Vittoria. She's at the bar waiting for our drinks when I notice Zhang Longwei approach her.
The man heads the Triad. He’s someone the Syndicate has wanted to do business with for some time. Killing him won't go over well with the other families.
I watch as Zhang engages Vittoria in conversation, his body language clearly flirtatious. To her credit, she maintains a polite but distant demeanor, her posture rigid. But I can see how Zhang's eyes roam her body, the predatory gleam in his gaze.
"Excuse me," I say to Johann, cutting our conversation short. "I need to check on something."
I make my way across the room, jaw clenched in fury. As I approach, I notice Vittoria speaking to Zhang in Mandarin. They both turn as I get closer.
Impressive. And useful.
"You're a very lucky man, Cesare," Zhang tells me.
I slide my arm possessively around Vittoria's waist. "That I am," I say, my voice dangerously calm.
Zhang's face splits into a smile. "Cesare," he says, overly friendly.
"I was just getting acquainted with your lovely wife.
You're fortunate indeed. She's fluent in Mandarin.
Perhaps the Boston Elite Syndicate is finally moving in the right direction.
Why don't you set up a meeting after this tedious event? "
"I'll have my son make arrangements. Lorenzo is my second in command."
Zhang's smile widens. "Keeping it in the family," he says approvingly. "I approve. Have Lorenzo call me. You have my number. Mrs. Mariano, it was wonderful meeting you. Thank you for the conversation."
As we walk back toward our table, I lean close to Vittoria's ear. "What did he want?" I ask, voice low and hard.
"Nothing important," she replies, tone carefully neutral. "Just idle chatter."
I tighten my grip on her waist. "Don't fucking lie to me, Vittoria. I saw how he was looking at you."
She turns to face me, eyes flashing with defiance. "And what would you have me do, Cesare? I can't control how other men look at me."
For a moment, her boldness takes me aback. Then anger mixes with pride. My wife is no wilting flower.
"No," I concede, "but you can control how you respond. Remember your place, Vittoria. You're my wife now, and that comes with certain expectations."
She nods meekly, which pisses me the fuck off. She's not meek or docile, something I've known from the beginning.
As we approach the table, I notice Lorenzo's gaze on Vittoria. My son and I need to have a conversation. This shit can't continue.
I'm not surprised by the crowd surrounding our table.
It's usually this way. Most of the time, the rest of the Syndicate would be here, but tonight only Ronan Delaney is present.
He's the head of the Irish mafia and brought his son, Daithi.
Glancing at their table, I see they're in the same predicament: politicians lining up to kiss ass.
If a politician has our backing, it's almost guaranteed they'll win the next local election.
Thankfully, dinner is served and the assholes scatter. Vittoria acts like the dutiful wife, speaking to those around her with poise and grace.
But Lorenzo keeps watching her, and it's starting to piss me off. He needs to keep his fucking eyes off my wife.
"How did a sexy woman like yourself end up married to Mariano?" I hear Vince Calloway say as he takes the empty seat beside Vittoria, leaning in close.
My hands clench into fists under the table.
"Do I know you?" Vittoria asks, voice soft but with anger coating her words.
Vince laughs. "I'm Vince Calloway. I'm—”
"A politician," Vittoria drawls with her Irish accent. "I can tell."
Instead of backing off, the stupid fuck leans closer. "You must be lonely in such a cold house as the Marianos'?"
I'm going to kill this piece of shit.
"How would you know what our home is like?" Vittoria asks. "I can assure you it's anything but cold. Where is your wife this evening?"
The words are polite, but they hold steel beneath the surface.
The fucker reaches out to touch her face, and I can't hold back any longer. I surge to my feet, chair scraping against marble. Everyone at the table falls silent.
I wrap my fingers around Vince's wrist in a deadly grip, pulling his hand away from Vittoria.
"If you want to keep this hand," I say, voice deadly quiet, "I suggest you don't touch my wife."
Vince laughs, and the sound sets my teeth on edge. I tighten my grip, ready to break bones if he doesn't heed this warning.
I feel a soft hand touch my arm and glance down at Vittoria. She's not pleading with me to stop, just watching, offering support.
"Speak to my wife again, and I'll make sure you never speak at all." I release his wrist, glaring at the bastard.
Vince, realizing he's overstepped, forces a laugh. "My apologies, Mariano. I meant no disrespect." He turns to Vittoria, bowing slightly. "Forgive me, Mrs. Mariano. I was out of line."
Vittoria's smile is gracious, but her eyes are sharp as blades. "No harm done. Perhaps you should get some fresh air. The champagne can be quite... intoxicating."
Her subtle jab doesn't go unnoticed. Chuckles ripple through the crowd as Vince, red-faced, excuses himself and hurries away like the coward he is.
I turn to Vittoria, impressed despite myself. She handled the situation with poise and a quick wit that I hadn't expected.
As I retake my seat, I lean close, lips brushing her ear. "Well played," I murmur. "But don't think this means you can start speaking out of turn."
Vittoria meets my gaze, a hint of defiance in her eyes that makes my cock strain against my pants. "Of course not, husband. I know my place."