Chapter One
Romeo
Beside me, Massimo, my consigliere stood as still as a statue.
The only giveaway he was on high alert was his eyes, which constantly roved through the room, taking in every detail and assessing every potential threat.
Lined up beside him stood our five brothers.
Not that we were all related by blood. My father brought Massimo and his two brothers, Antonio and Gaetano, to live with us after their parents died, taken out by a warring mob.
That was a long time ago, before my youngest brother, Vincenzo, was born.
He was the last, completing our family. Even as my mother held Vinny in her arms while we crowded around to see the newest member of the family, I could sense the bond between us all, and I was not the only one.
“Lucky number seven,” my father had proclaimed proudly. “A band of brothers!”
This nickname for our family tribe became one that inspired fear in the hearts of the other families, of which the Vitales were top tier.
We were lucky in our education by my late father, Luciano Vitale, who never mistreated us and allowed our roles within the family dynamic to develop organically.
My brothers and I were raised with love and respect by both our parents, yet despite that, no one would dare question our toughness.
And no one disputed our right to take over my father’s kingdom, or my leadership as the heir, at least not to my face.
All these thoughts and memories raced through my mind as I stood on the precipice, the first of us to take a wife. Matrimonial bliss seemed unlikely in a business arrangement such as ours. Experience had taught me that, with few exceptions, marriages within the mafia were built on duty, not love.
I didn’t expect home-cooked meals. I had staff for that.
Terms of endearment weren't part of the arrangement, but obedience was non-negotiable, as were the duties that came with being Mrs. Vitale.
Failure to fall in line would earn her punishments…
on her knees… over mine… The thought of teaching her a lesson made me hard as fuck.
Somehow, I doubted she would be a willing participant in our union and would ultimately learn the hard way. At least, part of me hoped so. Her father’s words played over in my head as we waited for Vittoria Calogerà, my fiancée, to make her appearance.
“You’ll have to watch her like a hawk, Romeo, she is cunning, my daughter.”
A boast disguised as a warning. My disdain for his parenting had more to do with his leniency than her willful behavior.
No wonder the Calogerà family had fallen to such disgrace in so short a time.
In my father's day, this man had been feared and respected. Now he was scarcely involved in his own operation, disappearing for months each year on extended holidays in the old country. He’d become weak, a parody of his former self.
The only real asset he had was his control over the east docks, and here he was, willing to give them to me—the son of his greatest enemy—if only I would take his rebellious daughter and marry her.
“She’s been engaged before, you know. And her fiancée broke the engagement.
I’d like to believe that she was being protected by her mother in heaven for a better man.
But after three failed attempts to get her married and settled, I have to accept the fact that my beautiful, strong-willed daughter is a bit of a hoyden. ”
A bit? I’d had to bite my tongue to not laugh out loud at his assessment.
When I left the negotiations, I wondered who would get the better deal when I said yes, if I said yes.
Sure, it may grant me the rights to all the shipping on the eastern seaboard and the control of immeasurable wealth that came with it, but the deal was riddled with the complication of a mischievous, untamed bride.
His assessment of the woman I’d yet to meet stayed with me when I climbed into the armored Audi A8 with Massimo, following the end of our meeting with Don Calogerà.
Cunning he’d said, a bit of a hoyden. My cold reserve never shifted during his descriptive diatribe, but his words stirred something my father had said about my mother.
About a strong woman, one who could sew a bullet wound and raise boys into strong men.
Maybe she could be a woman of strength worthy of the Vitale name, and one whom only I could command.
Vittoria was strong enough to keep me interested and also carry the weight of what came with our lifestyle.
But in the end, I would break her down bit by bit, until she learned to follow my instructions to the letter.
Obedience wasn't negotiable in our world. As her husband, it would be my responsibility to ensure she understood that. Did this excite me? It shouldn’t, but a part of me couldn’t wait to see what stunt she’d pull first. Being the eldest of seven brothers, there was nothing Vittoria could pull that I hadn’t seen before.
Massimo had urged me to say no to the deal.
“Are you sure you want to do this, boss? Don Calogerà is not a threat to us, and he’s sure as shit not trying to make peace here. He’s looking for some sucker to take out his trash for him while it’s still young and pretty. You don’t need that headache.”
I responded with silence and Massimo knew not to push me further on the topic. But even from the corner of my eye, I could tell he wasn't happy with the union or the last-minute preparations that came with the potential threats to my life.
Walking away from the meeting, I'd already made up my mind, but I waited a full twenty-four hours before responding to Santo Calogerà. His enthusiasm upon receiving my call came as no surprise.
“Romeo! I hope you are calling with good news.”
He used my first name as though the deal had already been struck, we were already family, and he already considered himself at the head of it.
After I had shown him the courtesy of taking time to consider his offer, not taking her at the table like she was an object of no consequence, but not making him wait on coals for my answer either.
At once, my tactics for playing out this conversation changed.
“That all depends, Don Calogerà. I am prepared for this marriage to go forward, but I have a few conditions.”
He hesitated for the briefest of moments and when he spoke again, his tone gave away his desperation. “I’m afraid I have nothing else to offer you.”
“So, you don’t wish to hear what I have to say? In that case, I should hang up and we’ll settle our peace another way,” I warned, my voice steel.
“Wait! Please forgive me,” he said quickly. “I am distracted this evening. Things with my daughter. You know how it is. Now you have my full attention. Please, Don Vitale, of course with such a solemn event as marriage, there will be additional terms. I understand completely. Let us discuss.”
I smiled to hear the quiver of fear in his voice as he rushed to placate me. So he did know who he was dealing with after all, and he knew why they had nicknamed me the Devil.
“First, the wedding is tomorrow. No excuses!” I commanded over his stammering protests. “Second, she brings nothing from home with her. Not one damn thing except the clothes on her back. Is that clear?”
An audible swallow from his end. “You are not planning on mistreating my princess, are you, Vitale?”
I had to hand it to the old man, he had a drop of courage in him somewhere. Questioning me was like inviting the devil to send you on a one-way ticket to hell. Time to put him in his place.
“I’m not the one selling her to broker peace between us.
You did that, so if anyone can be accused of mistreating her, it would be you.
I’m willing to forgive that, but make no mistake, that is all I am willing to forgive.
If Vittoria is to be my wife, I must do what you’ve proven yourself incapable of doing and bring her into line.
You’ve allowed your only bargaining chip to embarrass and outmaneuver you time and time again, Don Calogerà, but I will not. ”
“But she is to have nothing? Rom—Don Vitale, I beg you for my daughter’s sake, you cannot be so cruel!”
“You ought to know that I can indeed be cruel, but in this, I am merely being sensible,” I replied indifferently. “You’ve spent years indulging her defiance. I won’t make the same mistake. Once Vittoria becomes my wife, her loyalty will belong to me, not the life you allowed her to hide behind.”
“I agree to your terms, Don Vitale,” he said in a frenzied rush, adding with a lame effort at humor, “but my daughter isn’t used to being denied. She will be angrier than a hornet.”
My cock swelled with anticipation.
“That is her problem. Not mine. Have her here at 7 am. The wedding will take place at noon.”
I ended the call before I had to endure any more of his drivel. I ordered Massimo to gather our head capos and make a wedding happen in less than twenty-four hours. There was much to do in very little time. I expected every instruction to be followed without deviation.
“Don’t worry, Romeo,” Vinny had said during our tux fitting. “If she’s a dog, you can always go bark up another tree.”
My brothers had groaned, pelting him with cummerbunds and bow ties until voices in the hall turned us back into the grim, dangerous men we were expected to be.
Our staff, with my mother’s direction, had done an exceptional job of making the cathedral-styled entertainment space resemble a lavish wedding destination paradise.
But when she began to work herself up over the timetable and the guest list, Vinny smoothly stepped in and took over the arrangements.
Vinny was my only blood brother not directly involved in the family business.
He was a chef and owned his own chain of restaurants.
But he didn't carry himself like a made man. Or even a chef. Somehow, he’d inherited some recessive genes and instead of the dark brown almost black hair that the rest of us had, his was a dark amber blond that he kept longer than the rest of us.
His curly locks were long enough to brush his shoulders and were often in some kind of man bun thing with the underneath shaved.
More of a surfer from Cali than a mafia prince.
When Vinny first showed a passion for cooking, my mother had begged me to allow him to follow it.
I’d never regretted that decision. His restaurants had hosted a lot of dinners long after closing hours, and washed a lot of dirty money squeaky clean, but at a time like this, I was grateful for his particular expertise.
Where else could I get a wedding this size catered on a moment’s notice?
Vinny might not have a head for the family business, but he was his own kind of genius.
Now, as I waited at the altar, I glanced down the row of my best men, from Massimo ever at my side, Fausto the next in line, who ran our shipping empire, Giovanni, who operated our clubs, Antonio, our numbers expert and head of gambling, Gaetano, a brilliant surgeon who ran a hospital and took care of our troops, and the youngest of the brothers, Vinny at the far end.
I saw my brothers, mi familia, my band, my blood.
But I also knew none of the guests gathered today would see who we were, only what we were: seven hardened men.
The stringed quartet began the wedding march. A collective hush fell over the crowd, and then she stepped into view. It wasn’t her succulent body that her wedding dress hugged in all the right places or her stunningly beautiful face, but the intensity of the glare she speared me with.
“You’ll have to be careful with that one, brother,” Massimo whispered. “She looks like the type of woman who would carve out your heart and make you eat it.”
Fausto and Gio heard the whispered comment and laughed, then coughed to cover it up.
“Who knows, maybe you’ll get a taste first, and what a feast! I mean, look at her! A veritable goddess.” Gio whispered back.
At that moment, I decided two things. One: I would fuck the anger out of her until she was a pliant, biddable wife. Two: I didn’t like anyone else looking at her.
Now I had a new reason to be glad I’d made the plan I did. Until Vittoria learned her place as my wife, she would be a prisoner. Lewd images of her tied to my bed as I sank my cock into her and screwed her senseless captivated me as I watched her walk up the aisle on her father’s arm.
I smirked as our eyes met, allowing her to draw her own conclusions about what our vows truly meant.
Heat flashed in her eyes. I couldn't wait for the exchange of vows to be over so I could put this sham behind me and move on to what was real, her warm, soft body beneath my hardened one while I took her for the first time.
When she moved beside me, she was fidgeting. I took her by the hand and held on tightly, and wouldn’t relinquish my grip until she settled.
“Too tight,” she finally whispered for only my ears to hear.
“Behave, and I’ll loosen my grip.”
She rolled her eyes, but relaxed.
“That’s my good girl.” I crooned, more to piss her off than anything else.
“I’ll never be yours,” she spat.
“Oh sweetheart, you keep telling yourself that.”
The priest began the ceremony and as her father promised, she did her duty with none the wiser as to her true feelings. But I knew and couldn’t wait to prove to her that women who acted like brats, got treated as such.