Chapter 45 – Alessandro
S he hates me.
Work piled on my desk. There were projects Penelope would have been able to help me with, and I’d saved them for her. Thoughts muddled in my mind. The goals for my organization lay dormant and untouched. Problems threatened to bury us.
None of that was a priority.
It had been two days of sheer hell, working long hours to destroy the biggest threat to my family and my organization. In that time, I made a fatal misstep.
I hadn’t gone to her.
I left Penelope alone.
And now I was paying for it. The little wasp was incensed.
The door to our bedroom cracked open, and my gaze snapped to the second level where her unhurried footsteps sounded. Dio mio, she was a vision. It might have been a compliment when I called her a goddess before. But there was no mistaking the divine now.
Penelope descended the stairs with a regal defiance, her chin held high as if daring the world to challenge her. Her long brown hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back. The purple scrap of fabric masquerading as a dress clung provocatively, stopping at midthigh and taunting me with the tantalizing glimpse of her powerful, sculpted legs.
The instinct to fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness for my behavior flared bright inside.
But time was against us. What was more, I was going to kill someone tonight. There was no doubt in my mind. Once my men saw this unearthly being, they wouldn’t be able to help themselves.
But I wasn’t going to order her to change.
No, that would be a mistake.
She was here, and we had a power move to make.
I thrust my hand toward her with determination. Her eyes flickered downward, and a single eyebrow shot up in sharp defiance. Her lip twisted into a sneer of revulsion.
“Please,” I insisted. “We go in there together.”
“Who’s here?” she demanded.
“My capos.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
“It’s important we stand united.” I took a step forward, reaching for her but not touching.
“Are you sure you want me present?” She tossed her head.
“Yes,” I snarled. “It’s time they meet you and know your place in this organization is unquestioned.”
Her snort of derision hurt. “Can’t have your newest employee be seen as a weakness.”
“Starting tonight, they will know that you work with me, Penelope.” That statement broke through her mask of rage.
“You’ve always said I worked for you. I was going to be a player in the background,” she pushed, crossing her arms over her chest.
I shook my head. “That’s changed. It’s time you—and everyone else—knows that.”
“Fine.” She smacked her hand in mine. “Let’s go save your image, signore.”
Her sharp words sliced through the air, leaving a sting.
How did I expect her to see this any differently?
I was torn by regret, wishing I had followed her that night, yet doubting whether it would have made any difference. She should have been my top priority, but I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe things were meant to unfold this way. I wasn’t made to be someone she deserved.
Something yellow flashed in the corner of my eye. Looking down, I noticed the post-it note. It was blank. Confusion made me waffle.
Penelope didn’t offer an explanation, and we began to walk to the dining room where the leaders of the famiglia waited. As one, my men rose.
“Buona sera, signori,” I intoned.
At the head of the table, I pulled the chair to my right but placed a hand on Penelope’s waist to stop her.
“Mark this well,” I told my men as I moved my wife into the seat. “I found Carmelo’s replacement.”
Surprise flickered through the group. Without Adonis there to speak out, none of the men were eager to question me.
Penelope’s face was a careful mask. She had to realize what happened. But just to make the gesture clear, I placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I trust my wife completely. I expect the same from you.” I pulled out my own chair. “Tonight, Penelope makes her oath and assumes the role of consigliere.”
Looking down into her eyes, I begged her to accept—but not this life or the position.
Choose me.
“Do you accept the nomination I put forth?” I threw the question out to my men.
As one they spoke their agreement.
“Make your oath,” I encouraged her.
Penelope plucked the steak knife, holding the handle to me as a challenge. “Aren’t you forgetting an important part of initiating me into the famiglia, Don Mancini?”
The plan had been to present her, swear her in as a member, and begin the business of the evening as dinner was served. There’d been no intention of cutting her, of making her swear a blood oath.
“It’s expected, is it not?” she pushed.
This woman was hell-bent on turning my existence into a nightmare. I realized that from the moment I married her. That was what made her ideal. She was destined to be one of us. Yet, I’d sooner drive a blade into my own flesh than let hers bleed by my hand. An unspoken, desperate plea hovered in the charged air between us.
Don’t force my hand in this.
But her grip on the knife only tightened, a defiant promise of unyielding resolve.
A sigh pushed from my lungs. “Hold out your hand.”
Her eyes glinted with challenge as she extended her palm toward me, the delicate skin of her wrist exposed beneath the dim chandelier light. The room fell silent, the collective breath of my capos held in anticipation. This wasn’t how I’d planned the evening. A blood oath was a test in and of itself—something we’d never asked of a woman before.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, my voice carrying only to her ears.
A dangerous smile curved her lips. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid now, lupo.”
The knife gleamed between us, catching the light like a warning. My fingers closed around the handle, feeling the weight of tradition and consequence. The silver was cool against my palm, but my blood ran hot.
I began the ancient words, watching her face for any sign of hesitation. “Per la mia famiglia, il mio onore, il mio sangue.”
The room fell into a sacred hush. My capos leaned forward, their weathered faces a mixture of shock and reverence. This was unprecedented—a woman, my wife, being initiated formally. Yet none dared speak against it.
I continued the oath. “Penelope Mancini, do you swear your blood to the famiglia? Your loyalty above all others? Your silence to the grave?”
Her eyes never left mine as I pressed the tip of the knife to her palm. A single bead of crimson welled beneath the silver point.
“I do,” she said, her voice unwavering. Not a whisper of fear crossed her face.
With a swift, practiced motion, I drew the blade across her palm—gentle enough to avoid real damage, but deep enough to seal the pact. The silver edge glided across the smooth surface of her skin, leaving behind a trail of crimson that glittered like rubies in the dimly lit room. The sound of the knife slicing through flesh was almost imperceptible, drowned out by the heavy silence that hung in the air. And then, like a sacrifice to ancient gods, the blood pooled in her hand, a dark and glistening symbol of her loyalty to the famiglia.
Valentino pushed forward a crystal tumbler filled with amber whiskey. I guided her hand over the glass, watching as three drops of her blood fell into the cup.
“As we drink, you become one of us,” I breathed, before taking a sip and passing it to the left.
I plucked a napkin and pressed the linen tightly into her hand.
She jerked her hand away, lowering her gaze.
Look at me!
Instinct roared within me, a primal urge demanding I seize her, whisk her away to a secluded place and mend what was shattered. Her words echoed relentlessly in my mind. She believed my actions were a desperate attempt to protect myself. How could she not understand that this was all for her? She craved more, and this was the next highest position in the mob. It was the ultimate opportunity, tailor-made for her—she had fought for it, she deserved it!
The moment dessert was cleared away, I dismissed the men. My wife rose to leave, but I caught her wrist.
“A moment, Penelope.”
Exhaustion was etched into her face. After the blood ceremony, the men had each put her to the test in their own way. I allowed the ebb and flow of questions only because this was a battle that needed to be won.
And it had.
“You did well tonight.” I ran my fingers along the inside of her wrist.
“Thanks.” Penelope jerked away, plucked the empty square of yellow paper, and stepped toward the door.
Growling, I sprang after her and caught her body against the wall.
“Why the post-it, vespina?” I demanded, bracing a hand above and another beside her. “What do you want?” I’ve given you everything.
She gave me a challenging look. “My sisters come tomorrow. I was told we were going to spend an evening on a yacht.”
Relief, sweet and pure, surged through me. “I already gave you my word on that. You don’t need this.”
I plucked the post-it note from her.
With a yell of outrage, she snatched it back. “Hey! I earned that.”
“You don’t need it.” My hand curled into a fist. I was seconds away from driving it into the wall. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. Hell! I’ve given you a seat at the table. If that doesn’t prove I’ll give you the world, what will?”
The smile that curled over her lips was impossibly sad. “If you think it’s the world I want, you still don’t get it.”
“Tell me, then!”
Penelope shook her head. “Thank you for honoring your promise to host my sisters. We’ll stay out of your hair.”
I let her go. Every fiber screamed this was the pinnacle of the fight, and I was losing. But I didn’t have the first clue how to right the wrong.