Salvatore
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next few days are different.
Valentina plays her role perfectly. She attends the final wedding preparations and smiles for the designer when we do the final fitting.
She nods at all the right moments but doesn’t give any real attention during discussions about flowers, music, and seating arrangements letting our wedding planner choose most of it based on her expertise, as Valentina put it.
She doesn't look at me. Not once.
"Valentina, can we talk?" I asked yesterday when she walked past me in the hallway, my hand reaching for her arm.
She pulled away like I'd burned her and kept walking, her footsteps echoing in the silence she left behind.
The distance is killing me.
But I understand it. She's protecting herself, building walls to keep me out until she knows whether I'm going to shatter her world or save it. Every day that passes without an answer is another brick in the fortress she's constructing around her heart.
Meanwhile, I'm fighting a war on multiple fronts.
My brothers are growing impatient, dropping pointed comments about Marco at every opportunity.
The other families are asking questions, sensing weakness like sharks circling wounded prey.
Every day Marco stays alive is another day my authority is questioned, another whisper that Salvatore Vitale has gone soft for a woman.
I've been stalling, weighing options, playing chess with lives. But who am I kidding? I already know what I'm going to do.
I've known since the moment I saw her face in that basement. Since she begged me to spare him. Since I realized I'd burn this entire empire to the ground before I'd break her heart.
The question was never what. It was how.
"Elio, round up our men, our brothers, and the heads of the other families. I'm calling an emergency meeting, they have three hours to make arrangements and get here."
"Sounds serious," he says, a question hidden in the statement.
"It is." I disconnect the call before he can ask anything else, before he can talk me out of what I'm about to do.
Three hours later, I walk into the boardroom to find it already filled beyond capacity.
Every captain. Every underboss. Every man of importance in the Vitale organization crowds into the main hall of the compound, their conversations dropping to murmurs as I enter.
But it's not just my men, the dons of New Jersey, four other families sit at the main table, each flanked by their most trusted capos.
The air is thick with tension and cigar smoke, everyone sensing that something significant is about to happen.
This isn't just a family meeting. This is a summit.
Don Carmine DeLuca, old and cunning, watches me with hooded eyes that have seen four decades of bloodshed.
Beside him, Don Volcov leans back in his chair, deceptively casual, one hand resting near the gun I know he keeps holstered at his side.
Don Luca Santori sits perfectly still, his expression unreadable as carved marble.
And Don Alessandro Greco, the youngest of them, drums his fingers against the table, impatient, ambitious, dangerous.
Elio stands near the door, arms crossed, his expression grim. He's the only one who knows what's coming, and even he looks uncertain.
No one likes being summoned like this, especially the dons. They're used to being the ones who call meetings, who issue orders, who make men wait on their pleasure. But no one refuses either. That's the difference between respect and fear; I have both.
I move to the head of the table, and the room falls completely silent.
I stand at the head of the room, flanked by my brothers. Matteo looks resigned, like he's already mourning the decision I'm about to make. Raffaele is stone-faced, playing his cards close as always. Elio keeps glancing at me like he's not sure what I'm about to do.
That makes two of us.
Well, that's a lie. I know exactly what I'm about to do.
"You all know why we're here," I begin, my voice carrying across the crowded room. "Marco Marino. The traitor who ran with my father's bride forty years ago. The man who took our money and fed information to our enemies. The man whose daughter is about to become my wife."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Some nod. Others lean forward, hungry for blood, for justice, for the spectacle of an execution.
"Many of you expect me to announce his execution. That would be the traditional path. The expected path. The path my father would have taken without hesitation." I pause, letting them taste the anticipation. "The path that would satisfy the old debts and restore honor to the Vitale name."
I let the silence stretch, watching faces. Some men are already satisfied, thinking they know how this ends. Others are more cautious, sensing something isn't quite right.
"But I am not my father."
The murmurs grow louder, confusion mixing with anger. Someone in the back curses under their breath.
I hold up a hand, and they fall silent immediately. That, at least, still works.
"Marco Marino is now under my protection.
As of this moment, he is family. Anyone who harms him, threatens him, or so much as looks at him wrong will answer directly to me.
" I let my gaze sweep the room, making eye contact with each don, each captain, making sure every man feels the weight of my words.
The room erupts.
Questions. Protests. Angry voices demanding explanations. Don DeLuca's face turns purple. Don Greco half-rises from his seat. My brothers shift uncomfortably beside me—Matteo's jaw is clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grinding.
I wait until the noise dies down, standing perfectly still at the head of the table like a statue. Like a king.
"I know this is unexpected. I know some of you disagree." My voice cuts through the remaining murmurs like a blade. "But let me be clear: this is not a discussion. This is not a negotiation. This is not subject to a vote. This is the word of the Vitale Don, and it is final."
I step forward, and every man in the room takes an unconscious step back. Even Don DeLuca, with all his years and cunning, shifts in his chair.
"The Vitale family is about to gain a queen. Valentina Marino will be my wife. Her family is now my family. Her blood is now my blood. Anyone who threatens that threatens me directly. And we all know what happens to men who threaten me."
Dead silence. Good.
"The debt is paid through this union. The sins of the father and mother are absolved by the daughter's sacrifice.
She didn't choose this life, but she's accepted it.
She's given up everything, her freedom, her future, her father's safety—to stand beside me.
That kind of loyalty deserves protection, not punishment. "
I scan the room one more time, daring anyone to challenge me.
"Now." I straighten my jacket. "If there are no questions, I have a wedding to prepare for. Thank you for coming gentlemen. You are all dismissed.”
I walk out of the hall without looking back, my brothers falling into step behind me. I can feel the tension radiating off them, the questions they're dying to ask.
"Not now," I say before any of them can speak. "Give me one hour. Then we'll talk."
* * *
I find Valentina in the garden, sitting on the same bench where I first tasted her, where everything between us shifted from arrangement to something far more dangerous. She's staring at the fountain, a book lying forgotten in her lap, her mind clearly miles away.
"Mind if I join you?" I ask, hoping to finally get her to speak to me.
She seems startled at first, her body tensing, but then she breathes when she realizes it's just me. I love that she's not afraid of me anymore, that she can relax in my presence even when she hates what I represent.
"You should be sleeping." I approach slowly, like she's a wild animal that might bolt.
"I remember this being around the time you'd take your afternoon nap."
"Couldn't sleep." She doesn't look at me, her eyes fixed on the dancing water. "Too much on my mind."
I sit beside her, leaving space between us. Respecting the boundaries she's set, even though every instinct screams at me to pull her into my arms and never let go.
"Valentina—" I start, ready to tell her everything. About the meeting. About her father. About the protection I've just extended that might cost me my empire.
But she speaks first.
"Salvatore, remember how you told me that if I wanted to, in six months after the wedding, I could leave?"
My heart sinks, dropping into my stomach like a stone.
"Yes."
"Did you mean it?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with everything she's not saying. She's planning her escape already. Building her exit strategy. Counting down the days until she's free of me.
I could lie. I could tell her the deal's changed, that she's mine forever, that there's no walking away from the Vitale family once you're in.
But I won't build our marriage on more lies.
"Yes. I meant it."
"Okay." The single word carries the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts. She stands, smoothing her dress, still not meeting my eyes.
"Goodnight, Salvatore.""Goodnight, mia regina," I say to her retreating back, watching her walk away from me just like I knew she eventually would.
She pauses for just a moment, so brief I might have imagined it, then continues toward the house, leaving me alone in the garden with the weight of everything I've just risked.
I saved her father.
But I'm not sure I saved us.