Chapter 22
STEFANO
In less than ten minutes, I’d gone from having to face the whole of Chicago alone—not just the Moscatellis, but also those who owed them fealty—to having an entire army at my back.
Promised by the one man I swore to kill.
Edgardo Lordi had offered me what I needed to get Val back home safely, and it would only cost me my soul.
I’d always believed Lucifer was a fat Italian who smelled like salami and horseradish. I’d also thought Satan’s pride would cause him to hide his gluttony, but I got that part wrong.
Despite my lightheadedness, I needed to run through the options. I hadn’t gotten as far as I had by making rash decisions.
If I said no to Lordi and went into Chicago on my own, I would have only a handful of men. I didn’t have the time to organize some great assault. It would be just me and a handful of my men breaking into Moscatelli’s home. In broad daylight while anyone could see us.
A mafia boss’s estate never stood empty, and I had a feeling Moscatelli preferred to work out of his home.
Fogginess sent my thoughts in random directions as the room spun around me, making it hard to focus.
I shook my head, which only made it worse, and stared at the glass filling with my blood. My dripping finger showed no sign of slowing down.
Fuck, I should have eaten more than a sandwich.
What was I supposed to be thinking about?
Valerie. Valentina. Getting her back.
At night, with many more men, we would use the cover of darkness, and most of the Moscatelli soldiers would be sleeping, just a handful on duty.
More men would make it easier to get in.
Additional soldiers would overwhelm Moscatelli’s men, and that meant I had a much greater chance of getting Val out alive.
Hell, I might even get her out without any more bruises or gunshot wounds.
My girl already had so many injuries, and if this fat fuck in front of me knew she and I had shared a moment of passion in the ladies’ room, then so did her father.
Her twin worried me. He took pleasure in hurting her.
She would need the doctor when I got her home.
She needed to sleep somewhere safe to heal.
Her safety meant everything to me.
I refused to let Enzo down again, to walk into the house once more without his mother. I couldn’t do that to him again. I wouldn’t do it.
So, like a fucking fool, I asked the question of the hour.
“Where do I sign?”
Lordi gave me a shit-eating grin and slapped my shoulder.
“Good man. Let’s get that finger cauterized, so we can get to dotting all the I’s and crossing all the T’s.”
I nodded, my head pounding, my vision darkening at the corners. I needed the wound cauterized immediately, then I needed water and food. Tony could get me both as soon as we got the fuck out of Lordi’s place.
Don Lordi called two men into the back room.
One carried a metal plate with a long wooden handle, and the other held a blowtorch. It took a few seconds for them to heat the metal to a fiery red before they handed me a leather strap to bite down on.
It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that maybe the reason they waited thirty minutes was so the newly fingerless would pass out from blood loss.
A kindness disguised as a cruel punishment.
I had no time for that.
I waved away the strap. “I don’t need it.”
“Sir, I’m going to have to insist,” one man said.
Goddamn it. I grabbed the handle from the other guy’s gloved hand and pressed the metal plate to the end of my finger.
Fuuuuuuuuck.
My vision blacked out, but I forced myself to stay upright, to keep breathing. Sweat drenched my back and brow, but it didn’t matter. I had to take the pain. Had to bear the nauseating sizzle of my skin and ignore the putrid smell of burning flesh that filled the room.
I held the steel plate to my finger for a few seconds before pulling it away and handing it back to the man who had heated it.
“Do you need something?” Lordi asked. “I’m sure one of the doctors here has morphine or something.”
“Just water,” I rasped, my mouth completely dry.
I drained the glass of cold water placed in front of me. My vision slowly returned though with occasional white flashes. The wound burned and throbbed like a motherfucker.
“Another.”
By the time I finished draining the second glass of water, my headache began to ease some, and I could think a little more clearly. The pain still muddled my thoughts, but I could piece together coherent enough sentences that no one would know.
As the other members returned to the room, they stared, watching my every move.
“Can we get this moving, please?” I asked.
“Sure. All you need to do is sign the papers.”
Lordi strolled back to the leather folder with the treaty and came back with a small stack of documents.
“This is your contract with the Commission. This one makes you part of the council. This one details the laws, punishments, responsibilities, and the dues owed to the Commission.”
“Dues?”
“Only upon your initiation. As you’ve pointed out, you rebuilt your family’s business. It’s not the same as it once was, so you’ll have to pay the dues again.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.
“A princess. We ask each family to give up a woman and to marry another councilman’s woman. It honors the tradition of signing a business deal with a marriage contract. It’s also a good way to blend the families and make sure each member of the council is invested in the other families.
“I guess you could say it makes us all one big happy family. Your grandfather received your grandmother as part of that deal and gave his first daughter in return.”
What a disgusting and terrifying idea that I had no interest in thinking about, then or later.
“Are you saying you want the firstborn female in my line?”
“Usually, yes, but not in this case. No, I want Benedetta Capaldo. Since she is yours to give now.”
“Excuse me?”
My head still swam, but I’d heard the sick fuck correctly.
“Does your wife know you have a thing for blondes?”
Lordi laughed. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she does. If I keep her in the latest Dior dresses, she pretends not to care. The girl won’t be for me.
But she comes with too much power for me to let her marry outside of the Commission.
Marry her yourself if you want to, but if not, she’s to marry another member. ”
“Are there any members who are currently unmarried?”
“One, but from what I understand, he’s not quite ready, so it won’t happen immediately. But understand me, son. I will be choosing Benedetta Capaldo’s husband, not you.”
Fuck my life.
This deal would cost more and more of my soul.
Not only was I betraying every promise I’d made to my mother before she killed herself and betraying myself by going against the goals that I’d had since she died, but now I was betraying Benedetta as well. She’d made me swear.
Of course, a handshake deal with her wasn’t legally binding, but breaking our agreement still made me feel like an asshole.
I had to do it, had to hurt her—for my son and his mother.
Joining the Commission went against everything I was, and every cell in my body screamed for me to stop.
But signing on was the best way to get Val back. If I didn’t get to her soon, the Russians would take her, and even if she survived, I would never see her again.
Enzo would never see her again.
My head pulsed with dizzying pain. I wondered if they’d drugged the water. My three-quarters of a finger sent throbbing waves of agony up my arm, all the way to my shoulder.
I needed more time to make the right decision.
Time was the only thing I didn’t have.
The longer I waited, the less likely I would get my girl back.
She deserved to be resting in our home, with our son, in our bed, tucked away safely every fucking goddamn night.
Could I do this—join the Commission to get her back?
Betraying my long-dead family undermined who I was. Even going against my word to a worthy woman made me sick.
Benedetta had shown more grace than any woman I knew, stepping away from our marriage to keep my son safe, knowing it would destroy her reputation.
She’d stood her ground when I threatened her, then offered to help. She came to me like a man with a business proposal. She showed intelligence and kindness, and I trusted her.
I didn’t want to be with her, but Benedetta had earned my respect. No small feat for anyone.
She’d given me a chance with Valentina, and all she wanted in return was a chance at her own happiness.
Not control of her father’s men or even a seat at the table.
Happiness.
Was I really going to be the selfish asshole who took it away from her for the sake of my own gain? What kind of man did that make me? And what did it say about my word as a Vignali?
I squeezed my eyes shut for a split second.
Yeah, it made me the kind of man who loved his family. It said I was a man with priorities that outweighed business deals, that my wife and my son trumped everything.
Of course, giving Benedetta to the Commission would make me the villain in her story, and she would hate me for it.
Still, as smart as she was, she had to know that coming to me as she had was a gamble, that making a deal with the devil could always turn into a losing bet.
I grabbed the pen from Lordi and fumbled it before realizing I needed to use my left hand to sign on the dotted line.
Three times I scribbled something that came close enough to my usual signature. Then I shoved the shit back at Lordi.
The weight on my shoulders instantly grew heavier.
I would pay the price for this for the rest of my life.
Angelo Medico came forward, as did two others from the council. The men joined Edgardo Lordi in signing as witnesses.
The four horsemen of my personal apocalypse.
It was done.
I had sold my soul to get my girl back.
Imagining her soft lips as she smiled up at me, the smell of her perfume, my hands on her pretty ass as I plunged my cock deep inside her… all of it… all of her…
Yes, she was infinitely more valuable than my soul.
Anxious to get rolling, I made eye contact with Lordi.
“When do we take Chicago?”