Chapter 53
Tiziano Constanzo
Days later…
I wasn’t in the mood for parties. I had been living through a terrible kind of grief, and every day felt like an echo of the emptiness surrounding me.
My former father-in-law was dead for betraying me, but I had to dig up illegal figures to give the council even more justification for his death.
Lucia sold the house and left Italy. It was the best thing they could have done. I would never give them peace.
And although all of that had happened, I still hadn’t found the courage to speak openly about Bianca’s real last name. It was a snowball that kept growing. They wanted to talk about it, but I simply changed the subject. Every time. I would speak when I decided the time was right.
And here I was, standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie before going to some damn wine-soaked party. It wasn’t even my favorite drink. And it definitely wasn’t the best time to face questions I didn’t want to answer.
“Cousin, you know those models with huge tits and tiny clothes?” Enzo’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
He walked into the bedroom with a smug smile.
“They’re always at those wine-and-cheese tasting events.
I love taking the ones in plaid dresses and fucking them in the ass while squeezing those tits. ”
I stared at him through the mirror, frowning, but he only laughed as though my expression confirmed his own brilliance.
“If you’re already this excited, I can only imagine what you’ll be like after a few wine tastings and mixing booze with pussy,” I shot back sarcastically.
“Tasting, cousin. Small sips of wine and delicious fucks. You should do the same.”
“I should?” I asked, arching an eyebrow disdainfully.
“All right, I’ll taste the wine and find a woman for you,” he joked, laughing loudly.
“Don’t talk bullshit. I don’t need you finding women for me. I have pussy available whenever I want it,” I replied curtly, but the amusement in his eyes didn’t diminish in the slightest.
Enzo shrugged and turned to leave the room. Before crossing the doorway, he glanced back and added:
“Then use the party to try something different. Who knows, maybe some good wine will improve your mood.”
I sighed, adjusting my jacket one more time. Part of me wanted to simply ignore the event, but I knew I didn’t have that option. A night drenched in hypocrisy, fake smiles, and inconvenient questions. It was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid, yet somehow it always seemed to find me.
When I arrived at the event, I looked around, and the place was exactly as Enzo had described it: women with enormous tits, not all of them real, but all of them practically spilling out of their dresses.
They paraded around carrying trays of wine and cheese while old men accompanied by their wives fidgeted impatiently with their pockets, trying to hide their hard-ons for the young women who were undoubtedly willing to spread their legs for the right amount of euros.
Many of them would undoubtedly send their wives home with some pathetic excuse their wives would pretend to believe, then end the night with one of those girls in a motel or even inside the luxury cars that had brought them there.
“Don Tiziano.” I heard the governor’s voice and turned with a forced smile on my lips.
“How are you, Governor?” I asked with rehearsed friendliness.
“Missing my friend’s visits. You’ve been disappearing, even from events,” he commented in a tone that sounded more like a jab than an observation.
“I haven’t had much time. I’ve been working to make sure you get more terms in office and that your supporters benefit from them,” I replied mockingly.
“It will be a long term, my friend,” he said, looking lustfully at one of the women serving wine. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Wonderful,” I confirmed, keeping my tone neutral. I had never liked that type of woman, even though I had taken plenty of them to bed.
“Fun, Tiziano. Nothing stops a married man from having some fun,” he said with a cynical smile.
“Be careful with your image, Governor. It matters. Anything that shows a lack of respect could make your term shorter than you’d like,” I replied cordially.
“I forget how extremely respectful you are toward your wife. Speaking of which, where is she?”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with a few businessmen, Governor. Enjoy the event and, please, be discreet,” I finished, completely ignoring his question as I walked away.
Enzo approached, muttering something about “enjoying the party” with the enthusiasm of a teenager going through puberty. His unrestrained energy was irritating me more than usual.
“Enough, Enzo!” I snapped impatiently. “Go find some wine and your usual entertainment.”
He laughed, ignoring my tone.
“Cousin, are you really going to stand here like a statue, watching everything around you?”
“I’m leaving in a few minutes,” I replied, adjusting my tie. “I’m just making sure everyone sees me. That’s enough.”
My uncle gestured for me to come over, and I approached him. He was standing beside the bar set up in the center of the event hall, pouring himself a glass of wine. He lifted the bottle and studied the label with a dissatisfied expression.
“Something wrong with the wine?” I asked.
“Try it,” he said, holding out a glass. I took it indifferently and brought the ruby liquid to my lips. The flavor was full-bodied with a hint of sweetness. It wasn’t the best wine I’d ever had, but it had potential.
“It’s not bad, but it could be better,” I murmured, setting the glass on the counter. “Where is it from?”
My uncle gave me a sideways smile, his eyes gleaming with something I didn’t like.
“Soon, this wine will be all over Europe,” he said, ignoring my original question. “Do you know what that means? It means we’re weak, and we allowed our enemy to grow right under our noses.”
My brow furrowed slightly, and I looked at him suspiciously.
“What are you talking about?”
He raised the bottle again, pointing at the label with an almost theatrical gesture.
“This wine is produced by the Bellinis.”
I picked up the glass again, my fingers instinctively tightening around it.
“That’s impossible. It would take them a long time to rebuild the vineyards.”
My uncle stepped closer, his gaze fixed on me.
“Tiziano, they can’t continue doing business in Italy. If you’re going to let them live, get them out of here.”
“How did this wine get here? How did you find out?” I demanded.
“How it got here, I don’t know. Probably the same way all the others did, in shipments brought in to supply the event,” my uncle replied mockingly.
“You understood my question, Uncle,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes.
He smiled faintly, a provocative smile.
“Yes, I understood your question. Are you going after her? Are you going back on your word?”
My jaw tightened, but I maintained my composure.
“I’ll handle this my way,” I finally said, my voice sharp and final.
My uncle remained silent for a moment, studying me.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said before turning and walking away.
I grabbed the wine bottle from the counter and hurried toward the event organizer.
“Tiziano, it’s a pleasure to have you here. Did you like the wine?” he asked, looking at the bottle in my hand.
“Where is the person responsible for it?”
“Marco? He’ll be here soon.”
“Marco?” I asked curiously.
The organizer hesitated for a moment before continuing:
“Marco Santoro. An influential name in business, especially wine exports. He’s been essential to the distribution of the wine you’re holding.”
I felt my grip tighten around the bottle.
“He just arrived. I’ll introduce you to him,” the organizer added casually, completely unaware of the storm he had just unleashed.
“Marco!” he called, gesturing familiarly.
I turned slowly, my eyes scanning the guests for the man who would answer.
My teeth clenched when I found him and realized he wasn’t alone.
Beside him, holding his arm intimately, was Bianca. My wife.
Her eyes locked on mine, and for a moment everything around us disappeared, as though only the two of us existed.
She didn’t look away. On the contrary, a faint, challenging smile curved her lips, as though she wanted to provoke me, while they walked toward me.
My jaw tightened, and the sound of my teeth grinding echoed loudly in my head.
Even so, I kept my face impassive, hiding the hatred growing inside me.
“Marco, meet the first fan of the wine you introduced me to,” the event organizer said, gesturing toward me.
“Really? Marco Santoro, pleasure to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand with an ironic smile.
I ignored his outstretched hand, fixing my gaze on Bianca. I leaned slightly toward her.
“Are you trying to defy me, Bianca?”
She maintained her smile without even blinking.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied with a calmness that only intensified the fury inside me.
“Looks like you two already know each other,” Marco commented, pulling Bianca closer to him. I seriously doubted he didn’t know who I was.
“We know each other very well,” I replied. “And I’m certain we still have a lot to discuss.”
Bianca slipped her arm through Marco’s naturally, as though my words didn’t affect her.
“I’m available. When do you want to talk?” she asked, approaching me calmly. Marco held her arm as though afraid she might go too far. “I won’t be long,” Bianca said, gently freeing herself before walking away.
I followed her, my eyes taking in every detail of her figure.
The red dress emphasized her curves, contrasting with her fair skin and the hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulders.
She looked stronger, more confident, as if the time away from me had fed a new version of herself.
But deep down, I could still see the hesitation in her eyes.
Bianca had never been a good liar, and that was a weakness I had always known how to exploit.
When we reached a more secluded area of the ballroom, my voice came out low.
“Looks like you’re enjoying life, Bianca.”
She turned slowly, the smile still on her lips.
“Yes, I am. As you can see, I didn’t end up in a brothel. I’m working on my own things.”
“Your things? Bellini’s inheritance?”
“I’m a Bellini, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“Of course you know. You’re the one who threw it in my face.”
“Yes, of course, and at the time you told me you were a Constanzo. But I see you’re quite proud of carrying the name of the man who wanted you dead.”
“He’s no different from you. Or have you forgotten that you pointed a gun at my head?”
My body shuddered, but my gaze didn’t waver.
“Stop what you’re doing. I will not allow you to conduct any kind of business in Italy.”
She stepped forward, coming dangerously close.
“You’ll have to stop me, Tiziano.”
My jaw tightened even more.
“Are you challenging me?”
“No. You’re the one obsessed with my life. And by the way, I think it’s long past time we signed the divorce papers.”
I laughed, quickly moving closer and gripping the back of her neck, leaving only a few inches between our faces.
“I admire your courage, wife. Did you come here to play with death? Are you bored, or do you think I don’t have the nerve to stain my hands with your blood?
Speaking of which, we could have some fun while I kill your brother in front of you and then lock you inside one of my warehouses so you can regret coming here thinking you could defy me. ”
“Don’t waste your time locking me up, Tiziano. Kill me along with him, if you have the courage.”
I slid a finger along the contour of her face until I reached her parted lips.
“I reconsidered the brothel. It would be more interesting to have that mouth sucking me every night. And as for Marco, he has no idea what kind of hornet’s nest he’s stepped into. He won’t walk away from this unharmed.”
She held my gaze without retreating a single inch.
“Don’t mess with him.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” I shot back sarcastically.
I pressed her against the wall, my fingers slowly sliding up through the slit in her dress until they reached the inside of her thighs.
“Remember when I told you I would be your first and your last? You’re the one who decides whether he lives or dies, assuming he hasn’t already shoved his cock somewhere it doesn’t belong.”
She clenched her teeth but didn’t look away.
“You don’t scare me anymore, Tiziano. If you want to do something to me, then do it.”
I smiled.
“Careful what you wish for, Bianca. And as for the divorce, I have absolutely no intention of marrying again unless I become a widower. As long as my wife is alive, she’s the one who serves me until her final breath.”
I turned my back on her, leaving her there, rage pulsing through my blood. I crossed the ballroom with an expressionless face, but my mind was boiling. Enzo appeared in my path, the alarm in his eyes making it clear he had noticed Bianca too.
“Make sure she doesn’t leave without being followed,” I ordered. “I want details about where she’s living, who she’s with, and every move she makes. Don’t disappoint me.”