Chapter Ten Enzo
Chapter Ten
Enzo
“Stop fidgeting. You’re making my eyes twitch.”
Luca raised his hand and seized the pocket knife I’d flung to the ceiling midair, catching it by the blade and tossing it across the room. It nailed into the wallpaper, about an inch deep. Asshole’s throw was mean, just like everything else about him.
His gaze settled on my wrists. “You gotta stop cutting, man. It looks bad.”
I can’t help it. It’s an autoimmune disease purging all the black goo in my soul onto the surface.
“I need a drink,” I mumbled, wandering toward the bar cart in my late father’s office.
My brothers sat at the chess table for a game.
The pieces were gold-plated and handcrafted to perfection.
The day my father died, as soon as Achilles had arrived back in New York from Naples, he and Luca struck a deal.
Luca would assume the don’s position with our blessing.
However, Achilles had the opportunity to win it in a game of chess.
This chess game had been going on since, and would probably continue for years to come.
Pouring myself a vodka, I downed it like water, the liquid scalding its way down my throat.
It’d been three days since I blocked Tom’s number, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. More specifically, about how I wanted him to spit in my mouth again. I even tried chewing sugar-free cinnamon gum. Needless to say, it didn’t have the same effect.
“The fuck is with you?” Tiernan, my brother-in-law, snapped, not peering up from his phone.
“Yeah, what crawled up your ass?” Achilles echoed.
Not one damn thing, unfortunately.
“Nothing. Let’s get this meeting over with.” I touched the flame of my lighter to the tip of my cigarette. “I have to collect a 250k debt from that idiot senator who got caught with a high school chick before they toss him in the can.”
I was going to rearrange his facial features just to make a point. He had no business touching a fucking minor, and I was in a piss-ass mood. Win-win in my book.
Luca sighed, moving his bishop, then pushing up to his feet and taking my father’s seat behind the desk. It was strange, yet perfectly natural, seeing him there.
“First item on our agenda.” Luca wove his fingers together. “I’m going to kill Jeremie Rasputin.”
Tiernan choked on his whiskey mid-sip, nearly spraying it across the table.
“What the feck?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“The fuck is that my wife moved with the Russian to the suburbs this morning, taking Ciro and her pregnant belly with her,” Luca supplied taciturnly. “It’s a farce that will taint my new position as don, and I won’t allow it. I will slaughter him myself.”
“Your peace with the Russians is too fragile.” Tiernan ran his thumb across his jaw. “This is one tantrum you cannot afford.”
“Nonsense. My pride is pricele—”
“Hold your horses, stronzo.” Achilles raised his palm to stop him.
“I’ve come here to deal with Dad’s funeral and tie up some loose ends.
I’ve postponed my honeymoon for this shit.
Let me be clear—Tierney and I are heading back to Europe at the end of the week, and turning our phones off for the next month.
If you start a war, you’ll be fighting it on your own. ”
Ever since Achilles married Tierney, his childhood sweetheart, he’d been on cloud nine. Despite his being Satan’s spawn, I was glad they found a way back to each other. They were cute together. In a Harley and Joker sort of way.
“You can do whatever the hell you damn please.” Luca suspended his steady gaze on our scarred brother. “But Jeremie Rasputin is not going to live through the next twenty-four hours for what he’s done to me. As for Sofia—she’ll regret testing my patience and good nature.”
A shudder ran down my spine. This better be his anger speaking, because if he wanted to hurt a woman, he’d first have to go through me.
“They just upped and left?” Tiernan cocked his head in disbelief. “Both of them?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?” Achilles asked.
“Already told you, the house in the suburbs.”
“We didn’t know you had one,” I clarified.
“I just purchased one.” Luca’s molars were clenched so tight, I was surprised he didn’t ground them into flour. “With a bocce court, sprawling stables, and an indoor pool. Not for my wife to run off with her fucking bodyguard to occupy it.”
Tiernan considered his words. “What do you care, though? Cut your losses. Get yourself a pretty mistress. Move her in. Parade her for the world to see, so it is obvious you and Sofia are just married on paper, and move on with your life.”
“Easy for you to say,” Luca bit out. “You would burn down every male species on the continent if Lila as much as shared an elevator with another man.”
“Not the same.” Tiernan shook his head, probably to rid himself of the image of Lila in an elevator with another man. “Lila and I became a love match. You and Sofia are just business.”
Luca stared into his drink, jaw tight.
Achilles chimed in, sensing that humiliating Sofia back was a much better option than a full-blown war with the Bratva. “This is your ego speaking. It’s not like you love her. She gave you an heir, a healthy son, with another on the way. Move on from this.”
I peered through the window dispassionately, watching the sunrays dancing upon the Atlantic Ocean. They reminded me of Tom’s eyes. So brilliant and blue.
“Hey, Enzo,” Tiernan barked. “Talk some sense into your brother. As the next in line to wed in an arranged marriage, tell him why he can’t lose his head over this.”
“Yeah,” Achilles encouraged. “Tell Luca about your deal with Katya.”
“What deal with Katya?” Luca turned to me sharply.
“Katya and I have agreed to have an open marriage,” I heard myself say, my mind still adrift. “She’ll be able to take a lover. I’ll probably do the same.”
Katya was gorgeous, fun, mature for her twenty years, and, from what I could tell, wickedly smart.
And I didn’t want to marry her one bit.
We had no attraction, no spark, nothing that could ignite into a flame. The one and only time she’d kissed me, all I could think about was the fact her lipstick tasted like a strawberry lollipop, my least favorite flavor.
But my family’s business and the survival of the Camorra depended on this union. I always put the Ferrante legacy first. Luca had done the same, and so had Lila. Achilles was the odd one out who married for love, but he’d earned it after what our father had put him through.
Katya and I had agreed to the open marriage because she deserved more than a loveless, sexless life. I could stomach sacrificing my own happiness for the Camorra, but I would never jeopardize her joy, too.
“And you think it’ll work?” Luca gave me a sidelong glance.
I shrugged. “I think it’s our best shot. And I don’t give a shit what other people say.”
“We need to expedite this marriage.” Achilles rubbed his knuckles over his jawline. “This union is all that stands between us and a full-blown war. Remind me why you two aren’t already hitched?”
I pushed off the window, finally leveling my glare on the men in the room. “Katya’s in the U.K., doing a semester at Carlisle Prep. She’s taking one of Vaughn Spencer’s courses.”
“Ah. Of course,” Achilles said sarcastically, because he didn’t know who Vaughn Spencer was, and did not plan on enlightening himself further. “Big fan of his work.”
“When’s she coming back?” Luca demanded.
“For good? May fourteenth.”
“You’re getting married on May fifteenth,” he said decisively. “And you’re not fucking it up, Enzo. In order for me to get Sofia back, you must marry this woman.”
“What does my marriage have to do with yours?”
“If you knock her up before I kill Jeremie, Alex might think twice before going to war.”
“Yes. You’re impregnating her on your wedding night,” Achilles ordered me, businesslike. “I don’t fucking care how you do it, just get it done. Cowboy up and do it for the family business.”
I licked my lips, reaching for another cigarette before finishing the one I was holding. My breath was choppy, and my lungs burned.
They were right. Prolonging the inevitable was silly. I’d already agreed to this. It had to be done.
“So, you’ll let Jeremie keep his head?” Tiernan eyed Luca.
“For now,” Luca conceded. “I need to be strategic about the way I eliminate him from Sofia’s life. I suppose slitting his throat in front of her won’t do.”
“Probably not,” Tiernan murmured.
Achilles shifted in his seat. “Tierney says most women don’t like blood. I tend to believe her.”
My oldest brother sighed. “Enzo, start planning your wedding.”
Luca’s gavel crashed against his desk.
The meeting was over.
I hung back when the others left to spend time with my mom and the staff I’d grown up with.
Mama was holding up better than expected.
She was probably the only person I knew who hated Vello Ferrante more than I did.
Still, she had the good manners to wear black and pat her dry eyes with a napkin when someone visited to offer their condolences.
She also kept saying he was a saint, despite the fact he made the Devil look like the second coming of Jesus.
Before I left, she yanked me close in a hug and whispered in my ear, “I’ve been praying extra hard for your soul, Vincenzo. Vello may have ruined my life, but I’m glad you stopped him before he destroyed yours.”
It was all the confirmation I needed that my mother knew I was behind my father’s death.
And that a part of why I’d killed him was because of everything he’d put us through.
I got wet kisses from our cook, Gianna, and a lecture about being a good husband from my former nanny turned housekeeper, Imma, who was also visiting.
I made my way from the opulent mansion to my 2018 Lamborghini 488 GT3 EVO custom painted with the Italian flag.
What can I say? I liked to keep a low profile.
Strolling past our fountain, I realized mine was the only car left. I’d parked on the far end of the road, next to the tall cypresses that divided the property from the golf course.