7. Dante
Chapter 7
Dante
O n a beautiful sunny day like today, my father would usually hold his meetings outside by the pool, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to go out there again. I can’t even bring myself to enter the back portion of the house.
The last thing I want is to have another embarrassing episode like the one I had in front of Arabella yesterday, but I was impressed by how she handled things. How she shielded me and scolded my men was unexpected but appreciated.
Once we’ve eaten the feast my wife has prepared for us, we can have our meeting here, in the dining room, because I don’t have another option right now. I’m unsure how many of our men will come, but the office won’t be an option if they all show up.
I got along with everyone when my father ruled. I was far more personable than he was, but it was a known fact that my brother would take over, so I’m not sure how they’ll feel that it’s me.
Alexander barely had a relationship with any of them; he was never around, so I’m hoping that swings in my favour. My biggest obstacle will be Edoardo, my father’s closest friend and confidant .
I have no doubt I can handle the job. I’m young, and Papa was stuck in his old ways. My vision for the future aligns with the world as it is now. Things have changed a lot since he started, and while he made some adjustments over time, I’m confident I can do better.
I’d never take away what he built. He created our empire from almost nothing.
In the early days, many immigrants who settled in the regional town of Griffith worked as fruit growers. Griffith is known for its rich agricultural industry, especially citrus and grapes, which is why it’s often referred to as the ‘City of the Vine’. It has a strong Italian heritage, which is reflected in its food, culture, and annual festivals.
My father was always secretive about his past. Although he had strong ties to Sicily, he kept his cards close to his chest, even with his sons.
Like many others in the community, he eventually started growing small marijuana crops between the fruit trees because there was more money to be made there, and that’s when everything changed. This eventually led to massive plantations being cultivated in the area, and the fight for control came with that.
I’ve been led to believe that’s when the family feud between the Mancinis and the Mortellis began, which still holds strong today. I initially didn’t understand it, but over the past few years, I became conditioned to loathe them just as much as my father. After the shooting, that hate only intensified.
I glance down at my watch as I pace and see it’s a quarter to nine, so my men should be here any minute.
After helping Arabella carry all the trays of food into the dining room and set the table, she returned to our bedroom to get dressed.
Once she’s eaten, I’ll have Dario take her shopping. I don’t want her around for the meeting, just in case things get heated.
I’m a little anxious to introduce her to my men. Apart from the two guards I flew to Italy and my driver, I haven’t informed anyone that we were married.
I’ve always been a ladies’ man, what some may call a player, wild, living a fast-paced life with little or no responsibility, but I’m ready for this. My partying days are behind me. Having a wife will allow me to focus entirely on the business.
My hands are shoved deep into the pockets of my trousers as I move back and forth, only pausing when I hear the clink of Arabella’s heels as she approaches.
I turn towards the entrance, and when she comes into view, I’m again struck by her beauty. She’s a fucking sight, that’s for sure.
She’s wearing a form-fitting white dress that stops just above her knees. It hugs all those delicious curves of hers. I instantly want to tell her to turn around, march her sweet arse back to our bedroom, and get changed. If my men look at her the way I am now, I may have a bloodbath on my hands.
It’s crazy how, on the surface, I get to call this woman mine, but in reality, she’s anything but.
“Does this look okay?” she asks.
“It’ll do,” I mutter, hoping my response is enough to hide my true feelings. I want this woman more than I care to admit, but the fact that she doesn’t want me in return is maddening.
When her face falls, I feel like an arsehole. I can see she’s put in a lot of effort.
I drag my hand out of my pocket, bring my money clip with it and hold it out to her.
Her eyes narrow slightly as she glances down at my hand. “What’s that?”
“My money clip.”
“I can see that. Why are you trying to give it to me? ”
“After we eat, Dario will take you to the grocery store. You’ll need money to pay for the things you buy.”
“Oh, okay.”
When she reaches for it and slides the entire thing—the money clip containing the wad of hundreds—into her ample cleavage, I tilt my head back and let out a frustrated groan. For a prude, she’s a fucking tease.
Our eyes lock, and something unspoken passes between us. What it actually is, I have no clue, but the air around us feels charged, with what I could best describe as hate-filled lust.
For a brief second, it’s as if the whole room falls away, and it’s just her and me, caught in a quiet understanding neither of us is ready to name. The tension between us is stretched thin, and neither of us knows how long it will hold.
Our moment is broken when there is a loud knock on the door. I take the few steps separating us and reach for her hand. “Come,” I say, wrapping my fingers around her delicate ones. “Do I need to warn you to be on your best behaviour?”
“No.”
“Don’t embarrass or undermine me in front of my men.”
“I’ve been around my father and his goons my entire life,” she spits. “I know how to act, Dante.”
Goons?
I’ll be sure to address that with her later, but there’s no time now. “Good.”
When we reach the door, I let go of her hand and idly twist the chunky gold ring on my pinky finger. It’s shaped like a coin, with the Mancini coat of arms engraved in the centre.
It was my father’s … and now it’s mine. It’s not just a symbol; it’s a legacy. It should be enough to remind the men I’m now in charge. I’ll be sure to make that clear if it doesn’t.
I fill my lungs with air as I reach for the handle, and when I open the door, I’m greeted by a sea of smiling faces.
They came.
We are gathered in the dining room as Arabella hands out steaming cups of cappuccinos. She’s been the dutiful host and gave everyone a warm greeting.
It should’ve pleased me, but all I could think about was the day we met, when she wiped her hand on the side of her dress after we touched … like I was fucking contaminated. She’s obviously a good actress; I’ll need to remember that going forward.
I watch as she hands a coffee to Sammy, and when his leery eyes run down the length of her body as she walks away, my fury rises.
“Sammy,” I bellow across the room. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ll be damned if I’ll stand back and be disrespected like that in my own home.
“Yeah, boss?” he replies, tearing his eyes away from Arabella’s arse. The smile drops from his face the second he locks eyes with me. He knows he’s fucked up.
“Look at my wife like that again, and I’ll personally cut your eyes out of your head.” I keep my voice measured, but the warning beneath it is unmistakable.
These men know me well enough to understand that I don’t make idle threats.
He swallows thickly, nodding once as the entire room goes silent. Every pair of eyes, including Arabella’s, snap to me, and the tension in the air is suddenly thick. That feeling only intensifies when Edoardo enters my home a second later … like he fucking owns it.
My father may have let him come and go freely when he was alive, but I’m not him, and this house now belongs to me.
“Dante, my boy,” he says, throwing his hands in the air.
“I’m not your boy,” I grumble. “And I didn’t hear you knock. ”
He approaches me, clasping both of my shoulders. “I didn’t know I had to.”
“This is my home now, so I’d appreciate it if you do that going forward.”
“Noted,” he says with a casual smile, but his hard stare tells a different story. “I’m so happy to see you looking so fit and well. I was concerned we were going to lose you too.”
“Really?”
“Of course … we are like family. Your father, God rest his soul, was my best friend.”
It could be a coincidence—I once never would’ve doubted this man’s loyalty—but I’m suddenly finding him suspicious as fuck. It could be just paranoia on my part, but Stefano’s words are at the forefront of my mind: “It sounds like they may have had someone on the inside.”
I would hate to think my father’s closest friend of forty years would be behind his demise, but stranger things have happened in this world.
My brother never really warmed to him. He thought Edoardo was more of a devil on my father’s shoulder than a confidant, but I’m not sure if that was the case. Papa never needed encouragement.
What does strike me as odd, though, is that I haven’t heard from him once since I got shot, and he has my number. He used to call me almost daily when my father was alive. If he cared so much, he would’ve fucking been there when I needed him most. At the very least, to offer his condolences. Every single one of our men reached out to me in some way. Whether it was flowers, a card, a phone call or a text message, all I got from Edoardo was radio silence.
“Where were you that day? Why weren’t you here?” It’s a question that’s been nagging at me for months.
“I was sick,” he answers. “Your father knew that.”
“What was wrong with you?” I challenge.
“I had COVID. ”
“How convenient.”
His eyes narrow. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying nothing … it’s just convenient that the one Christmas you miss turns out to be a bloodbath.”
“Son—”
I raise my chin. “I’m not your son either.”
I never intended to be this hostile towards him, even though I’ve heard from several men that he’s been spreading lies, implying he was my father’s underboss, which is not the case. I know it, and so does he. If he thinks he can take over this family, he’s mistaken.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here that day … by the sounds of it, there’s not a lot I could’ve done, even if I was, but it’s weighed heavily on my heart regardless. We lost some good men, our leader, and we almost lost you.”
I swallow thickly as images of that day again flash through my mind, but thankfully, I manage to push them down.
“We did,” I say with a nod. My eyes move around the room, and everyone is still watching us. I always intended to hash this out with Edoardo, but I’d rather not do it with an audience. “Let’s eat … my beautiful wife got up early to cook a feast for us.”
“Wife?” Edoardo mutters from beside me.
“Yes. I got married while I was in Italy.”
“Congratulations. I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze moves around the room, and when it lands on Arabella, his eyes widen, then narrow. “You married Stefano Rossi’s daughter?”
“How do you know who she is?” I ask, taken aback by his response.
“Your father was planning?—”
“So I heard,” I say, cutting him off. “How do you know what she looks like? ”
He falters momentarily, which is enough to raise my suspicion further. “Your father showed me a photo of her.”
Again, I can’t say for sure he’s lying, but if my father did have a photograph of Arabella, it would be in this house somewhere.
Papa visited the Rossi estate every time he was in Italy, so I can only surmise he met both of Stefano’s daughters numerous times.
My mind is racing, so I begin moving, heading for my place at the head of the table. The seat my father always sat in. I know I have big shoes to fill, but I’m more than ready for whatever lies ahead.
My eyes follow Arabella as she moves around the table, collecting everyone’s empty breakfast plates and accepting my men’s praise with a grateful smile. I find myself doing the same as I observe her.
Her food was a hit. The empty platters in the centre of the table prove that. My men showered her with compliments as we ate, and I enjoyed seeing her pretty face light up with each kind word. I felt something that oddly resembled pride.
I sometimes forget this woman is only twenty years old. She has a depth to her that feels far beyond her years.
From the outside looking in, you’d never know that my wife despises me, my goons , and everything we stand for. She wasn’t wrong when she said she knew how to play the part. If I’m being honest, it’s a bit disconcerting. She seems like a pro at faking it, so I’ll need to be on my toes with this one.
When she reaches me, I take advantage of the situation by placing my hand on her waist. “Thank you again for breakfast, Bellezza ,” I say, ignoring the side-eye she gives me.
“Just doing my wifely duties,” she retorts .
I wish she’d do her other wifely duties. I swear I already have one ballsack dangling in the grave.
After our impromptu meeting in the kitchen this morning, I had to jack off in the shower to release some pent-up tension. This is my driest spell in history. My neglected cock is feeling very sorry for itself. I don’t blame the poor guy; I feel sorry for us both.
With that thought in mind, I decide to push my limit and see how much this little temptress will allow when she has an audience.
Letting go of her hip, I take the plates from her hands and set them on the table. She gives me a look that clearly says, What the hell are you doing?
I can’t help but grin as I reach for her again, tugging her onto my lap. “Dante,” she gasps as her cheeks flush a deep pink.
“What? I’m just fulfilling my husbandly duties and showing appreciation for my wife. I’m sure my men don’t mind.”
She turns her face towards mine as if trying to shield herself from everyone else’s view. “That’s so sweet of you.” Her narrowed eyes betray the sweetness in her voice, and I can’t stop my smile from widening.
“Are you heading to the shops now?” My gaze drops briefly to her cleavage—where my money is stashed—as I speak.
The move doesn’t go unnoticed. Her lips purse in irritation as she grabs hold of my chin, squeezing tightly as she jerks my face back to hers. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to laugh. I’m beginning to realise that I love antagonising this woman. Her sassy side is a turn-on.
“I am,” she replies through clenched teeth.
I can feel the tension in her body, which should be enough to tell me I’ve pushed her too far, but I find myself cupping her jaw and pulling her lips down to meet mine instead. I’ve always been a risk taker, and I’m curious to see how far she’ll let this go.
It’s nothing more than a brief meeting of mouths, but I extend it longer than I should. Her full lips feel like soft little pillows against mine. I can only hope she remembers we’re not alone and doesn’t repeat what she did on our wedding day by wiping her mouth with her hand when I draw back.
As soon as I release her, she shoots me a warning glare, which has me biting back another grin. When she rises from my lap, I give her peachy arse a playful slap, reaffirming she knows who’s in charge.
“Have fun spending my money, la mia regina (My Queen),” I say, watching her walk away with a mixture of admiration and possessiveness. I wouldn’t hesitate to make her my queen if she’d let me.
“Oh, I will, mio re (My King),” she replies with too much enthusiasm, and the men around the table burst out laughing.
Calling me her king was just for show, but damn, if those words don’t stir something in me.
“Let’s start by seeing a show of hands. Who has an issue with me taking over my father’s position?” My gaze is firmly fixed on Edoardo as I speak.
When he doesn’t raise his hand, my eyes move around the rest of the table. I was hoping not to get pushback, so I’m grateful to see that’s the case.
“Good, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m moving forward with some restructuring. I don’t want to undermine anything my father built, but I believe it’s time to bring the business into the twenty-first century. I’m confident this will not only boost our profits but our power as well. ”
“When you say restructuring, what exactly do you mean?” Edoardo asks, clearly unimpressed with my vision.
I was waiting for it.
“I’m young and have a clear vision of how we need to move forward. My father was old school, and while that served us once, the world is changing fast. Technology is evolving at an alarming rate, and if we don’t adapt, we’ll be left behind. I’m playing the long game here. With the loss of most of our Caporegime (Captains) in the ambush, I see this as an opportunity to bring in new blood to lead our crews. Men my age, who share my values, my drive, and my understanding of the future. It’s not just strategy. It’s imperative for our survival.”
“So, are you saying I’m no longer going to be the underboss because I’m old?” Edoardo bites.
“You never were the underboss,” I counter. “Yes, you were my father’s closest friend … his confidant—the Consigliere (Advisor) — but you were never given the title of underboss, and you know it. My brother was always going to be the one to take over. It was never going to be you.”
“Your brother has had nothing to do with the business for a long time.”
“He’s been running all of our companies down in Sydney.”
He doesn’t argue that point because he knows I’m right. Instead, he takes a different angle. “If your brother was meant to take over, why are you sitting in that seat and not him?”
I stand, clenching the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turn white. “Because he didn’t want the job or the responsibilities that come with it. He has a wife and child to look after and feels his priorities lie there. Since I am the next in line, naturally, the position goes to me. I am a Mancini. My father’s blood runs through my veins,” I growl, banging my closed fist against my chest.
“By child, do you mean the bastardo (Bastard)? ”
His comment has me seething. Giovanni Mancini Junior may not share our family’s bloodline, but my brother has accepted that little boy as his, and that’s good enough for me. I used to see how much it hurt Alexander when Papa would refer to him as that.
My father was beside himself with joy when his grandson … his namesake, was first born. But when we found out a few months later that Alexander’s wife had lied and that my brother wasn’t, in fact, the father, Papa wiped that little boy from his life without a second thought. That heartless move only pushed Alexander further away from this life … from us.
“You talk about my nephew like that again, and I’ll cut you where you sit, capeesh.”
My threat has Edoardo rearing back. “Where is the respect? I’ve given this family forty years of my life. I was doing this before you were even born, son. Are you trying to punish me because I wasn’t here when your father was killed?”
“Again, I’m not your son. And I’m simply doing what is best for the Famiglia .” My eyes peruse the other men. “Let’s see another show of hands. Who would rather see Edoardo in this seat?”
It’s a risky move on my part, but I’m going to nip this shit in the bud here and now. If it backfires in my face, then so be it.
When not one single hand is raised, I retake my seat.
“Now that we have that settled, let’s proceed.”