Forced to Marry into a Mafia Family

Chapter One- Tomasso Ricci

“Is this some kind of a sick joke, Tomasso?” I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at it confused, before putting it back.

“Ricci men don’t make jokes, Edwardo, you know that.” I cleared that up real quick because I had no time for this foolish conversation. My steps slowed down a bit as I waited for Edwardo to get to the point.

“What did you say?” I asked him, knowing that I had heard wrong somehow.

“Torna qui!( Get back here).” Edwardo shouted at me in Italian. The phone went dead in my ear, and I stood with a very perplexed look on my face.

“What is it?” The booming deep voice of my son asked. I turned to him and then ran my fingers through my curly, thinning gray hair. I was getting too old for this shit.

“I have no fucking idea, but we have to go back,” I spun around to make my way back inside the building, where Edwardo and I usually meet every month to pay off my debt. A debt I’ve been paying for many years.

“Go back for what Tomasso?” Buddha asked, annoyance written all over his face because he lacked basic patience.

“I just said I have no fucking idea, Buddha. Andiamo, (Let’s go).” Shoving my hands inside my khaki pants, I walked briskly back toward the door where two men stood in black suits.

I heard my son mutter something under his breath in Italian.

I looked at him; his face held the usual grim, cold expression.

His real name was Phillipe, but he was given the name Buddha when he was nineteen.

He towered over me easily at well over 6ft 8 inches.

His stature demanded attention. He had a pair of strong, powerful arms that I’ve seen him use many times to lock someone's neck to keep them in line.

Looking at him, nobody would guess he was my son.

His mother’s genes won the battle. He had a rich cinnamon complexion, brown eyes, and a head full of long curly hair that he often wore in a bun.

He was the reason I owed Edwardo this lifelong debt, but I didn’t care.

He was my son, and I would do anything to protect my family.

Shit, once upon a time, Edwardo and I were friends and business partners. That all changed because of Buddha.

As I stepped inside the room, Edwardo sat on the edge of a huge mahogany desk, puffing away at a cigar. His security stood close by, and they eyed us when we entered the room.

The carry-on luggage in question was open next to Edwardo on the desk.

I looked at the contents, and my frown deepened.

Indeed, there was no money in there rather, it was clothing…

women’s attire, as Edwardo stated. This suitcase was very similar to mine, the same color and everything, just what was on the inside was very different.

“All these years, I’ve never had an issue with you, and today you try me. Do you know today is my dog’s birthday? Chi-Chi is two years old today,” he stopped and pointed at the picture of an ugly ass chihuahua on his desk.

“ It’s supposed to be a day of celebration, and I’m here looking at Victoria's Secret panties instead of my fucking money!” he pointed the hand with the cigar at the end of it at me.

I kept looking at the clothing, trying to figure out just how this happened.

Buddha stood back at the door. I heard him take a couple of steps closer, and I held my hand out to him.

Letting him know to hold off so I could handle this.

My brain kicked into overdrive as I began contemplating where the fuck did the money go.

“May I?” I asked, taking cautious steps toward Edwardo and the carry-on suitcase. I picked up a couple of items of clothing and inspected them. Then I noticed there was a boarding pass inside, so I picked it up. Dior Marcano, I said the name repeatedly in my head.

I turned back to my son, “Do you know of a female named Dior Marcano?”

“No,” he replied coldly. His hands were shoved inside his pants pocket, as his left leg bounced in an agitated manner. Buddha’s eyes were on Edwardo even though he was speaking to me. The bad blood between Edwardo and my son was something that I suspected would never go away.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in my head. I believed that I could get to the bottom of this easily.

“Give me twenty-four hours, I’ll get the money back to you,” I offered, knowing what Edwardo’s reply was about to be before he even opened his mouth.

“Twenty-four hours! Mothafucka, you must think this is playtime. Do you want me to kidnap your son again?” Edwardo responded, pointing his cigar, turning his eyes on Buddha.

“Mothafucka, you must think I’m still that scared 19-year-old boy, and I can’t snap your old, feeble, decrepit ass in two.” Buddha’s reply was quick, fast, and in a hurry. I knew he wanted all the smoke with Edwardo, but I couldn’t let that happen.

“Guarda la tua bocca, (watch your mouth.) Before I gut you in front of your padre, (father).”

“How’s your daughter, Angel? I hear she’s growing into a very beautiful young lady.” Buddha said, licking his lips with a stupid smirk on his face.

“You dare speak about my family!” Edwardo shouted, slapping his palms down on the desk. The noise was almost deafening inside the room.

“Abbastanza! (Enough),” I shouted, trying to bring an end to the useless banter. “I told you, I will get you your money in twenty-four hours.”

“Try four hours, and then I’ll set my vampires to start slitting throats and drinking blood,” Edwardo said, pointing at his goons that stood around the room. “Arrivederci, (goodbye),” he waved us off before he got up from the edge of the desk to have a seat.

I hated Edwardo with everything in me, but I tried not to let it show. I turned around to leave, giving Buddha a warning look. I hadn’t gone two steps when Edwardo spoke again.

“Aye, take this shit with you.”

Reluctantly, I looked over my shoulder to see that he was pointing at the suitcase. Sighing softly, I walked back and picked up the unfamiliar luggage, rolling it out of the room.

“One of these days, I’mma gonna blow that fuckers brains out the back of his fucking head,” Buddha mumbled as we walked toward my custom designed bullet proof range rover.

“Forget, Edwardo, for now. I think I know what happened to the money. It has to do with my driver, Lewis Marcano. I’ll have Lorenzo bring him to me. Meanwhile, you get this Dior person, who this suitcase belongs to. When you have her in your possession…call me.”

I got into the backseat as my son got into the driver’s seat to take me back to the house. I felt the anger in me begin to rise because the driver I had hired about two years ago thought I was one to fuck with. As Buddha started the engine and we drove off, I got on my phone to make some calls.

“Yes, Boss,” my main man Lorenzo answered on the first ring.

“That driver, the fairly new one. Lewis Marcano, find that mothafucka, and when you do tie his ass up and put him in the stanza buia, (the dark room.) Let me know when you have him.” I didn’t wait for a reply; I just hung up the phone.

I hated dealing with stupid shit, and this was definitely one of them.

“You want me to just take care of the girl when I find her?” Buddha’s question invaded my thoughts.

“No, bring her to me. I need her to make her father understand that nobody steals from me,” my son nodded his head before he focused on the road. My phone started ringing, and I saw it was my wife. I answered immediately.

“Amore mio, (my love).”

“We’re out of milk. Can you get some on your way home?” Victoria Ricci’s voice always calmed me.

“Sure thing, baby,” I said before hanging up the phone.

“We need to stop by the nearest grocery store to get something for your mother before we handle business,” I told my son about the detour we had to make.

He nodded his head in agreement because he understood that family always came first. The love of family was a big deal to us Italian men.

This was why I made a pact with that devil Edwardo.

It protected Buddha, and I would go to extreme lengths to make sure nobody ever harms the people I love.