I'll go up against my own father if I have to. Anything to steal Marzia De Luca away from Donati. His family may own the docks of Palermo, but I'll be damned if I let him own my fucking woman before me.
My fingers tighten around the chain, the gold links digging painfully into my palm. But I don't notice the pain. I don't notice anything, too consumed by my fervent rage and desire to get back at Vitto Donati.
Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but I'm an impatient man, and I'm ready for my meal right. Fucking. Now.
4
Marzia
The masquerade party to celebrate my unwilling engagement to Vitto Donati has already begun. And yet I'm not there yet. There's something I must do before my engagement to Vitto is announced. Something I've been dreading even more than the party itself.
I will see Vitto again for the first time in years. My parents have already told me Vitto is looking forward to seeing me again, but I'm dreading this. I know he'll want something from me as a sign of my devotion, and I have nothing to give him. And it's enough that I lied to my parents about losing my grandmother's wedding ring when I really gave it to Adrian Bernardi. But I'll never admit that. If I did, I'd be punished severely, and the door to my gilded cage would be locked forever.
There's a reason my parents trust me - because I've worked hard not to break that trust. I learned it through years of obeying mama and papa, doing everything they tell me. But I'm more than eager to be done with it now. I don't want to listen to anyone anymore. I want a life that is my own. But as my maid laces me into a too-tight corset, I know full well that's never going to happen. My parents were my captors for the first eighteen years of my life, and now that honor will go to Vitto - my husband to be.
My maid, Lucia, helps prepare me for the masquerade party that is already happening downstairs. Even though it's my party, my parents won't allow me to attend for longer than two hours. So while everyone is having fun in the grand hall of our Palermo mansion, I'm confined to my own quarters and Lucia’s torture with the strings of the corset.
"Just breathe in deeper," she asks. "Just a little deeper, signorina, we need to get this tight as can be."
I hold in my breath, feeling like I'll never let it go as she tightens the corset even further. I can barely breathe, but I suppose that's the point of these awful torturing devices.
My heart is beating fast in anticipation of what's about to happen. I should be excited about this. Seeing Vitto again... it would be any Sicilian girl's dream to marry the son of the owners of the docks. But not me. I'm terrified, dreading this. But there's no escape for me. Despite hoping Adrian would save me, I haven't heard a peep from him or his family. Even if they had made contact, I'm certain my parents would not tell me. Mafia princesses like me are best kept in the dark, as far as they're concerned.
"You look so beautiful, signorina," Lucia tells me with a delighted smile. "Signore Donati won't know what hit him."
I manage a weak smile in response. I want to beg Lucia to switch places with me. To help me escape. But I know anything I do is fruitless. Italy is a small place when you're the mafia heiress of the famous De Luca family. There's no way I could outrun my reputation.
"Thanks, Lucia," I manage, resisting the urge to tug on my perfect updo and allow the tendrils of hair to fall free of its tight chignon. "I'll see you later."
My maid is all smiles as she disappears from my quarters. I don't even get a moment to myself, because a second later, there's a knock on my door and papa is waiting for me with a beatific smile on his face.
"You must be delighted," he beams when he sees me, approvingly taking in my appearance. "You will make us proud tonight, Marzia."
I nod, feeling frozen as he leads me out of my room and down the hallway to the powder room where I will see Vitto again. The sounds of people enjoying themselves in the grand hall are carried up the stairs, and I find myself envying them. I would switch places with anyone in a heartbeat right now. Anything to get me out of here, away from my family, away from Vitto Donati and his expectations of me.
We stand in front of the double doors leading into the powder room and papa turns to face me, gently touching my cheek. It makes me wonder what happened to the special, wonderful relationship we had when I was a little girl. I used to be the apple of papa's eye. He loved me just as much as he loved my brother. But now all that is over. I'm just a chess piece to him. A pawn in the game of who will be most powerful in Palermo.
"Don't let me down," he tells me sternly, the look of gentleness in his eyes instantly replaced by stern determination. "Our family's fortune lies on your shoulders now, Marzia. I know you can handle this pressure and I know you will make a good wife to Vitto Donati. You will not disappoint me today, daughter. You will do as you were told and instructed to. Your entire life has led up to this moment, and I will not allow you to ruin it."
Good. Meek. Obedient. All words that I wish didn't describe me, or my relationship to anyone. But I have no choice.
"Do you understand?" papa asks, narrowing his eyes when I don't answer immediately. I nod, averting his gaze and the delighted smile on his lips as he opens the double doors. "Go ahead, daughter. Make mama and papa proud."
Keeping my eyes downcast, I enter the powder room. I can't even bring myself to look up, not when I know who's waiting for me.
I spent a lifetime wishing one man would be my Master, my husband. I would be a willing captive for him. But Adrian Bernardi isn't here tonight. Instead, it's the boy who hurt him - the boy I vowed to hate because he was cruel to Adrian.
"Marzia."
His voice is deep, accented with the hint of a foreign language, perhaps English. I know Vitto spent years studying abroad, and it must've impacted the way he speaks. Fearfully, I raise my eyes to meet his. He's handsome. Devastatingly handsome. He has dark hair and the most striking pair of grey eyes. His skin is dark and tanned with exposure from the sun, from being in the docks often. He towers over me. His shoulders are broad in the all-black outfit he's wearing. Any Italian girl would be delighted to marry him. But not me.
We are the only ones not in costume tonight. It is tradition for the bride and groom to be seen during occasions like this, and right now, I wish I had a mask to protect myself with. To hide how much Vitto Donati intimidates me.
I can't bring myself to say anything. My heart is pounding, and merely keeping my eyes trained on Vitto's is a task I can barely carry on with.
"Marzia, won't you look at me?" his husky voice asks, and I swallow my pride, raising my gaze to meet his. He smiles, an imperfect smile tilted to one side, but that only makes him more charming - to anyone but me. "You are more beautiful than I could have hoped, Marzia De Luca."
"Thank you," I whisper, eager for him to give me permission to look away again. I can't look at him. The sight of his grey eyes tinged with the cruelty I know he possesses fills me with dread. "We should go downstairs. The party has already started."
"No," he replies simply, squashing my hopes with that simple little word. "I want to be with you a while longer. I want to get to know you. We are to be married after all."
He chuckles darkly at the words, making me feel sick. I don't want to marry him. I don't want to be his property. But something tells me even if my parents were merciful enough to spare me, Vitto wouldn't. Because there's something in his eyes that sparkles darker than anything else I've ever seen. The man standing before me is no longer a boy. He is all man, and the dark intentions he has for me are written all over his handsome, chiseled face.
"You're so quiet," he says. "Speak."
It doesn't feel like a request but instead an order, and I blanch, trying my best not to stutter as I finally open my mouth.
"I hope you enjoy the party tonight," I start rambling. "My parents have invited a lot of people... I'm sure it will be to your liking, signore-"
"Call me Vitto," he says with another one of those charming-yet-cruel smiles. At least something hasn't changed since our childh
ood. He still has that cruel streak residing deep down... And I just know it's going to come out to play sooner rather than later. "And please, let's speak of something else. I want to know you. Who is Marzia De Luca?"
I don't know what to tell him. My parents have done their very best to prevent me from having a personality. I wasn't allowed books, media or anything that I could develop a taste for. My days were spent in boredom, learning things that they deemed acceptable. I found a passion for drawing, sketching. But when papa discovered how much I loved it, the pencils and sketchbooks were all taken away. He told me my talent had grown enough, and getting better at drawing would only make me insolent. Undesirable.
I hated him for that, but I had no choice. Papa was always right. And from now on, Vitto is the one whom I will obey. The one who will command me. I'm already dreading the thought.
"I don't know w-what to say," I whisper, avoiding his gaze.
"Just tell me about yourself," he insists. "I want to know everything."
"There's not much to say." I shift my weight from one weight to another self-consciously. Apart from the fact that I wish you were someone else, and that I wasn't being forced to marry you.
"What do you enjoy doing?"
"I used to enjoy drawing."
"But you don't anymore?"
I shake my head reluctantly. "My papa didn't think I should carry on with it."
"Well, you can draw all you want once we get married," Vitto tells me with a generous smile. It's a way to appease me, and it should, but all it does is make me want to scream. I don't want his small mercies. I just want my freedom. To run away from him and never hear the Donati family name ever again. "I promise you, I will be a good husband. I'm delighted your parents picked me as your groom. And I believe we can make each other very happy. Don't you think so, Marzia?"
I nod even though I don't feel that way at all. I don't think I will ever be happy. It seems like that emotion is just out of reach for me - dangling right before my eyes, but never close enough for me to grab it and hold on to it.
"I was wondering," Vitto goes on. "I know this may be presumptuous of me and we have only just seen each other after years and years apart, but..."
I raise my eyes to his, and he takes it as an invitation to raise his hand, cupping my left cheek. I let out a gasp. No man has ever touched me like this before, except for papa. And I'm sure he wouldn't approve of this blatant display of affection. If Vitto weren't a Donati, he'd have his hand cut off for this.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, afraid of his answer. I hate admitting it, but his closeness repulses me. I don't want him to touch me. I don't want his hands on me. My eyes fill with unspilled tears and I hate myself for being such a child. But I can't bear this. My whole body vibrates with one wish only - for Vitto Donati to take his hands off me.
"Just getting a better look at you," he mutters. "You are so beautiful, Marzia..."
He sweeps his fingers over my cheek and I fight the urge to ask him to stop. He notices my discomfort and it makes him smile. He probably thinks I'm just shy. But that's not the case. I'd be more than eager for an interaction with Adrian Bernardi, but not Vitto.
"So innocent," he goes on. "Tell me, do you still remember that day in the docks?"
"How could I forget?" I mutter, still avoiding his gaze.
"Oh, I made an impression?" He winks at me and I groan inwardly. I need to pick my words better or else Vitto's going to think I've had a crush on him since I was seven years old, even though that couldn't be farther from the truth. "You liked me for a long time, then."
I remain quiet, avoiding answering his question as I hopefully glance toward the doors. "We should get to the party... Everyone will be wondering where the guests of honor are."
"I don't want to leave yet," he says, sighing heavily. "But you're right. Your father was kind enough to let me have a few minutes with you, but we shouldn't push it. Not on the first day we met. After all, he needs to be confident in the knowledge he's giving away a virgin at the altar, right?"
His grey eyes sparkle mischievously and something turns in my stomach. I have a bad feeling about this. And as the night goes on, it only gets worse and worse.
5
Adrian
The masquerade party is in full swing by the time I arrive. Getting past the guards is easy - too easy. The security around here is lax. I'd never let people near Marzia like this. But it speaks to my favor, and as I slip some money into the guard's hands at the door, he guarantees he won't tell anyone the Bernardis are in attendance.
Marzia doesn't make an appearance until three hours into the party. It gives us time to infiltrate De Luca's home. I have guards and shooters peppered through the house, all watching for my sign or a hint of trouble. Marzia's parents will be cursing themselves for inviting me here. That is, if they live long enough to see what I'm about to do to their sweet, innocent daughter.
The moment Marzia enters the grand hall, the entire atmosphere in the place changes. I feel her presence like a cold burn to my very soul, and my eyes search the room to find her. I'm not the only one who feels this change of pace, and it pisses me off to no end. There's applause and whistling as Marzia and her groom-to-be appear at the top of the double marble staircase leading into the grand hall. She's wearing a glittery pink dress that snatches her waist into a wasp-shape. Her tits are pressed up against one another, straining against the corset, and she's still tiny, despite wearing high ivory heels.
She's just as I'd imagined her. The little girl from those docks is all grown up and more irresistible than ever. Her hair is still the same shade of chocolate brown, her eyes a glittering shade of blue. Her skin is lightly tanned and olive-toned, and her body is thin, almost to the point of being frail. She looks... breakable. And that excites me.
Vitto Doneti stands behind her, a picture of masculinity. He's a head taller than her, his broad shoulders the perfect backdrop to Marzia's innocent posture. She's like a porcelain doll and he's the picture-perfect soldier toy ready to protect her at all costs.
My teeth grit together, my hands tightening into fists. I fucking hate seeing them together. The desire to rip them apart blooms inside me, making me mouth her name just so I remember the feel of it on my lips. Soon it won't be me saying her name. She'll be shouting mine as I bury myself in her silky depths.
The happy couple makes their way down the stairs, and I'm watching closely. My eyes follow them, glued to Marzia, eager for more of her sweet innocence. Donati reaches for her hand, but she pretends not to have noticed, making me smirk. She doesn't want his attention, which pleases me. I want her to turn him down. I want him fucking hurting because he wants her so much and she lusts for someone else. Me.
I can't take my eyes off her. The crowd parts, allowing them to pass through to the center of the room. Someone starts clinking their glass and then everyone does it. My fingernails dig into my palms. Like fuck am I going to watch them kissing right now.
I walk over to a tower of champagne glasses and bump into a woman standing next to it, blending into the crowd a second after she stumbles into the glass. It all comes crashing down, followed by gasps and cries. I smirk to myself. Mission fucking accomplished.
Soon enough, the crowd begins mingling again. I soon notice a guard trailing Marzia - it seems as if he's in charge, so I'll have to get rid of him first if I want a taste of Vitto's sweet virginal bride. She's like a magnet, pulling me in close with each second that passes, enticing me to come closer and closer. She won't recognize me, not with my mask in place. But I like to think her eyes are searching for me in the crowd, desperately seeking the man she should not want.
I know just how to get Marzia's attention, but first I need to create a distraction to make her guard take his eyes off my prize for the few seconds I need. I motion to one of my guys in the crowd and he gives a curt nod, sending a girl forward.
She's stunning - blonde, tall and willowy, and not my type at all. The girl approaches the guard who
does his best to avoid her sensual words and the way she trails her fingers down his lapels, but he fails fucking miserably. Just like I knew he would.
It doesn't take long for the blonde to seduce the guard. It's all I need to slip closer. Meanwhile, Vitto is embroiled in a conversation with some business partner or other, and Marzia is standing to the side, looking abandoned. This is my cue.
I walk over to her, seeing her shoulders hunch as I get closer. She can't see me yet, but she can feel me. Her body is painfully aware of my presence and that fucking excites me. I'm looking forward to ripping away everything she holds sacred. Sometimes, I find myself wondering whether she'll like me as much as she seemed to at the docks, or whether she's turned into the shy, submissive mafia princess she didn't want to be when she was just a little girl.
The thing about Marzia De Luca is, she's a fucking liar. Because that day on the docks, we both felt something. She should've fought harder to be with me. She should've gone up against her parents, begging them to reconsider her marriage to Vitto, begging to be engaged to me instead. In that way, Marzia has let me down. But I'll give her a chance to prove herself to me again, once she's my captive - willing or unwilling, it doesn't fucking make a difference to me.
I stand behind her, leaning just close enough to see the hairs standing up on the nape of her neck. She feels me here, close by. She knows I'm coming to collect my debt. To come through on my promise. I owe her, after all. I owe her a happier ending than the one she'd have with that Donati bastard.
Fingering the golden chain in my pocket, I allow it to slip between my fingers, landing on the floor. Marzia's eyes go to it, widening in disbelief. We lean down at the same time to pick it up, and reach for it, our fingertips meeting in the middle.
Adrian's Vengeance: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 3