2. Tito
2
TITO
I can't get enough whiskey in my body fast enough. I've been listening to my father ride my ass for years about getting married. Thirty-nine isn't too old to be a bachelor. Besides, tying myself down to one woman seems pointless when I have such God-given looks. A different woman every week has been my way of living for as long as I can remember. I don’t have to get attached. I don't have to put money in their hands, and I don't have to deal with their emotional issues.
"I'm just saying, I don’t see why I have to have a woman on my arm in order to lead." The idea that a wife will somehow make me more well-rounded or level-headed is preposterous. My father has lived the past twenty years without my mother on his arm, though he was happily married for twenty before that. The whores in and out of his bedroom destroyed that, which is one reason I think this will turn out to be a sham. Sex with one woman for the rest of my life? Who can ever commit to that?
"Because you're my son and I will not give you the keys to my kingdom unless you follow my orders." Dad's shout is louder than it needs to be and causes a pointless coughing fit. His lungs aren't getting any better no matter how many rounds of chemo and radiation he has blasting through his cells.
Scowling, I set my drink down and walk over to him, one hand on his back, the other on his hand. I lead him to the couch where he slowly settles in and takes his handkerchief to cover his mouth as he continues to hack. Blood dots the white cloth. I know his time is almost up, and I'll be the leader of this family. My attitude and rebellious nature just come out of me. I can't stop them, though I know I should.
"Dad, you need to stay calm. Getting so worked up that you shout only makes this coughing happen." I pat his shoulder as he hunches over, breathing and hacking into the handkerchief, but he comes up for air and continues his lecture.
Albeit, this time, his voice is callous and gravelly. "Tito, the Peralta girl is the ideal candidate. Not only does she come with access to a greater reach of territory and authority, but she also has good genes. She will produce an heir, expand our territory, and make you more powerful than all of our enemies. And she was raised in the same life you were. She knows about the business. She won't be frightened when you come home soaked in blood."
The idea of coming home to someone doesn't necessarily deter me, but it doesn't sweeten the pot. However, the idea of larger reach, more territory, more money, more power—all of that has me listening intently as he describes the arrangement. What can I do, anyway? If I don't marry her, Carlos will, and if that happens, I will lose my right to lead this family. Carlos isn't the leader we need. Everyone knows I am. But with this ridiculous stipulation that I be married to ascend the throne, it's the only way to assume my power. What happens after his death is another story. Divorce isn't off the table.
"Alright, Pops. Just take a deep breath and try to stay calm." I pat his back again and stand to retrieve my drink. The swirl of alcohol in my head only calms me slightly. I wonder if Ms. Peralta is okay with this arrangement or if she's being forced. A woman in her twenties in a family like hers, I bet she's being forced. That brings a smile to my lips for some reason. Call me a sadist.
The doorbell rings and I know they're here. Mr. Peralta and his daughter whom I have yet the pleasure of meeting are slated for a visit to make this official. I'm vocal with my father, but I'm not one to rebel against his direct orders. Until now, his "encouragement" to select a wise partner for my life has been suggestion. Now it has become my only option, and because none of the women who frequent my bed suit me, I'm stuck with the one he has selected.
"They're here," I say, finishing my drink. I don’t bother sitting back down. I'll be forced to stand when they walk in anyway, but I do head to the liquor cabinet in my father's office to refill my glass, which I sip on as I wait.
Chris leads them in, and my very first impression of the woman to whom I am now obligated is shock. She stands a few inches taller than her father, though not at all towering in height. Her slender form is hugged by the suit she wears, a dark navy color that isn't flattering to her warm skin tone at all. But the long, dark braid dangling over her left shoulder is alluring, making my fingers itch to undo it and see how that hair would fall around her face as she rides me.
"Ah, Mr. Peralta," my father says as he stands. Only moments ago, his coughing was so bad he could hardly speak, and now he bolts to his feet with renewed vigor and strength. I'm always in awe of how he pulls himself together even in his pain and misery. I'm learning from him every day. He’s the sort of man I want to embody at all times.
Mr. Peralta reaches out his hand and shakes my father's, but Ms. Peralta only stares at me. I can't read anything in her expression, either—no fear, no malice, not even a hint of attraction, pleasure, or uncertainty, for that matter. Intriguing that she's so stoic when faced with such a harsh punishment. I wonder if her father trained her to be this way or if she is just that good at maintaining her composure. Either way, it's impressive.
"Aria, you remember Donatello." Mr. Peralta nods at my father, and Aria reaches out a hand. Judging by the look in my father’s eyes, if he were ten years younger and in good health, he'd have her bent over his desk before day's end.
"I remember. Nice to see you again," she says, and her voice is symphonic, setting off ripples of arousal inside me. I have to wait days to be wed to this beauty? Such a shame I can't invite her to my bed this evening.
"And this is my son…" Dad's hand gestures at me, but his eyes stay fixed on her. I don't blame him. She's exquisite. The way her shirt is slightly too tight makes the spaces between her buttons bulge, giving me only the faintest peak at the soft curve of her breasts, but I like the mystery of it. "Tito," Dad says, and I step forward, extending my hand.
Aria places her delicate fingers on mine, and I bring them to my lips and kiss them gently. This might not be so bad after all. A woman this gorgeous who is all mine to do with as I please, who must obey me or suffer consequences—this could be fun.
"Mr. Ramiro…" Aria's tone shifts as she speaks to me, but I'm not foolish enough to believe it's me who is influencing the introduction. She watches my lips caress her skin, but I notice her rubbing the back of her hand when I release her fingers.
"Well, we'll let the two of you chat a bit." My father gestures at her father and starts toward the door to the hallway. "I have a sword collection you may find fascinating, Hector. Come this way." The two head off, leaving us alone, and my body is charged up. I didn't assume I'd be marrying a beast of a woman, but I never expected this beauty.
I stare at her, admiring her poise and the curves of her body for a moment, and when we are alone, I let myself relax a little. She's striking, but so is a pit viper when you see one in nature.
"Aria, is it?" I ask, bringing my drink to my lips to sip.
"It is." She looks around my father's office at the wall of books and the large, chunky leather furniture. "Your father's house is pleasant." She takes a few steps toward the books, and I click my tongue. He hates when people touch his books. Aria looks up at me in annoyance and scowls. "Am I your dog now?"
I chuckle a deep baritone that rumbles into the room, and she scowls harder. "Not yet," I tell her, and I'd make her my little pet. God, the things I'll do to her. "The books aren't for touching, but I have something you can touch…" My dirty insinuation isn't missed by her, and we're off to a good start. I'm riling her up, seeing what she's made of. I like a challenge, and she proves to be exciting.
"Mr. Ramiro, let me make one thing clear. I am no one's toy. I'm not here to please you or serve you. I'm here to align our families for success and for no other reason. While copulation is inevitable, do not think for one second that I will enjoy it." Her eyes claw their way up and down my body in one swift motion, but the way she swallows hard as she does it only betrays her. She finds me attractive. In fact, I can see the look in her eye that she's turned on by me.
"Hmm," I breathe out in a short, staccato tone. I move toward her and she doesn't back away. Good, she's not intimidated by me yet. I like that too, the idea that I can tame that out of her. "Ms. Peralta, make no mistake, you are my toy. And believe me, you will enjoy it. I will devour that body of yours, drink from your pussy until your insides shake, and break you down until you beg me for more." I stand too close. My body thrums with desire for her, but I will contain myself. This is about making sure she knows who I am and what I expect. I can't marry a woman who is faint of heart.
"Be careful who you think may break, scemo . And never underestimate me." Now she has my juices flowing. Trading insult for insult isn't my game, though. She may call me a fool, but I am no one's fool. I smile and back away. I may have met my match.
"You're intoxicating," I tell her, and she doesn't know I can tell, but she breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe she bit off more than she can chew with this little arrangement of ours. I'm happy to help her chew that up and spit it out, though.
"You're a buffoon." Her arms cross defiantly over her chest, as if willing her tits to vanish so I'll stop looking at them.
"And you're gorgeous when you're angry. We'll make adorable babies, won't we?" I chuckle at her just as I hear my father's voice up the hall. He's returning, and my future bride is flustered and red in the cheeks.
I actually like her a little. She's hot under the collar, fiery, and not afraid to stand her ground, and if I'm not mistaken, she's here of her own accord. The bold nature of her personality strikes me the right way. If we met under different circumstances, I may have been able to tolerate her longer than a week or two. This might not be such a bad match after all, which is why when my father brings out the contracts, I'm more than happy to sign my name on the line, right above Aria's.
My life just got a whole lot more interesting. Not only will I have more territory and influence, but I’ll also have a foxy new wife to bang every night. The boys at the club will nut when they hear about this.