Chapter 07
Tiziano Constanzo
A few days later…
I walked into the house with rage pulsing through every fiber of my body.
That damn brat was playing cat and mouse with me, and I wasn’t the kind of man who played games.
I had already burned the entire Bellini house to the ground, reduced Vittorio’s possessions to ashes.
The fact that a single heir had escaped, like a rat slipping through the cracks, was an insult I couldn’t tolerate.
He had to die. I needed to erase the Bellini name from history completely, rip it out by the roots. I didn’t care about the price or how long it took.
My anger wasn’t only about the past, but the present. Every day that worm kept breathing reminded me that my revenge was incomplete. And I never left anything unfinished.
My eyes were fixed on the window when the sound of the door opening interrupted my thoughts.
Carlo walked in with the kind of calm only he possessed, carrying a bottle of expensive whiskey as if it were the answer to every problem. He pulled two crystal glasses from the shelf and poured the amber liquid without rushing.
“You need to relax, Tiziano,” he said, handing me one of the glasses.
I took it without even looking at him.
“What I need is to fill this glass with Bellini blood.”
Carlo laughed, a low, almost provocative sound. He knew me well. We had been friends since childhood.
“I think right now you have two problems,” he said in an amused tone.
I turned toward him, narrowing my eyes.
“Don’t use that tone with me when I’m pissed off, Carlo.”
He raised his hands in surrender, but the smile didn’t leave his face.
“What do you say we go to one of the clubs?” he suggested, taking a sip of his whiskey.
I rolled my eyes.
“Thinking about women now?” I shot back.
“You never turn down a pink pussy,” Carlo replied with the crude practicality that was so characteristic of him.
I let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“I’m pissed off. I don’t have the patience for needy moans in my ear.”
Carlo burst out laughing, shaking his head.
“Then cover their mouths, Tiziano. You were never the gentle type anyway.”
I took another sip of whiskey, feeling the liquor burn down my throat, but the relief was superficial.
“The Council is getting on my nerves,” I admitted, changing the subject. “All this endless talk about marriage and children. It’s a fucking pain in the ass keeping me up at night.”
Carlo set his glass on the table, leaning toward me with a sarcastic smile.
“Stop being so picky, Tiziano. Just get married, fuck, and produce an heir.”
His cold practicality made me clench my teeth.
“It can’t be just anyone,” I shot back, irritated.
Carlo raised an eyebrow, studying me the way he always did.
“Then choose someone who suits you. But do it soon, or the Council is going to end up choosing for you.”
I knew he was right. It wasn’t about love, but control. And I didn’t give control to anyone.
I drained the rest of the whiskey in my glass, and the sound of crystal striking the table echoed through the room.
“Let’s go to the club,” I finally said, my voice low.
Carlo smiled, satisfied.
“Good. A few moans and some pussies rubbing against your face might do wonders for your mood.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but I knew I couldn’t stand another minute alone with my own thoughts.
I woke with a bitter taste in my mouth and a pounding headache.
I shoved the legs of a big-titted blonde aside, trying to free myself from the arms of the brunette sprawled across me.
The room was stifling, saturated with the sickening smell of sex mixed with alcohol that had been spilled at some point during the night.
I looked around at the rumpled sheets and the floor covered with clothes that weren’t mine.
A half-empty bottle of whiskey was balanced dangerously on the edge of the nightstand.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face, trying to remember at what point during the night everything had gone off the rails.
The brunette mumbled something incoherent, trying to pull my arm back toward her.
“It’s over,” I muttered, firmly removing her hand.
I stood, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to knock me down. My suit was thrown over a chair, my shirt open, and my tie hanging somewhere I couldn’t be bothered to look for. I quickly pulled on my pants, loosening the belt before fastening them, and walked over to the mirror.
The reflection was nothing new: bloodshot eyes, lipstick marks on my neck. It was a decadent sight, but I was used to it.
As I got dressed, flashes from the night before surfaced. The pounding music at the club, loud laughter, bodies grinding against me. Carlo provoking me, Enzo disappearing with some random blonde, and me searching for a distraction that would make me forget my fucking obligations.
A sound in the hallway caught my attention. Heavy footsteps, followed by a knock on the door.
“Tiziano,” my uncle’s voice called from the other side.
I opened the door, ignoring his uncomfortable expression when he saw the state of the suite.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice rough.
I followed him into the room next door. On the bed were the clothes he had set out for me, neatly arranged and perfectly pressed.
“Pull yourself together, Tiziano. We have a meeting with the governor this morning,” my uncle said without even looking at me.
“The governor, huh?” I muttered, pulling off the wrinkled shirt and tossing it onto a nearby chair. “I don’t know why you’re so worked up, Uncle. We funded that idiot’s entire campaign. He owes us, not the other way around.”
He looked at me, assessing me.
“He’s the governor now, nephew. A position like that makes men forget where they came from.”
I picked up the starched white shirt from the bed and began putting it on, my movements quick and irritated.
“So what?” I shot back, starting to button it. “If he forgets, we can remove him just as easily as we put him there.”
“It isn’t that simple, Tiziano.” Luigi stepped closer, adjusting his jacket while looking at me with the patience of a tutor who had dealt with my stubbornness too many times. “The Council is watching you. They want results, stability, alliances.”
“The Council is always pissed off about something,” I grumbled, taking the tie he held out to me. “First it was the Bellinis, then the business in Naples. Now they want me to get married and produce heirs. It seems like the entire mafia is more concerned with my dick than with power.”
“Maybe because your dick, so far, hasn’t produced a single heir to secure the future of the famiglia,” Luigi shot back, with a mocking tone that was unusual for him.
I gave him a murderous look while adjusting the tie in the mirror.
“Don’t provoke me, Uncle.”
“I’m not provoking you. I’m reminding you that no matter how much you’re the Don, you don’t rule alone.”
I turned toward him, my patience at its limit.
“So you want me to marry just anyone, fuck her, and produce an heir like some farmer breeding livestock?”
Luigi shrugged, indifferent to my irritation.
“It doesn’t have to be just anyone, but it doesn’t have to be some impossible love either. Just choose someone who understands her role and secures the future.”
“That isn’t something you decide in a hurry, Luigi.”
He sighed, crossing his arms as he looked at me.
“Maybe not. But while you’re deciding, the world doesn’t stop. Now put on your jacket and come downstairs. The governor is already arriving.”
I put on the jacket, settling it over my shoulders.
“I hope he understands that he’s here to listen, not talk.”
“As long as you behave like the Don, he will.”
With that, Luigi opened the door, waiting for me to follow. I took a deep breath, adjusted the watch on my wrist, and walked out.
“Let’s make this quick,” I muttered as we walked down the hallway.
“That depends on you, Tiziano,” Luigi replied with a faint smile.