I nod, taking a drink of the dry martini my father made for us when he first summoned me into his office.
“You have plenty of time before the wedding to have fun with whomever you want and then you can consummate the marriage and take a mistress to satisfy your needs. It’s not a bad way…trust me, my son.”
I do trust him. He’s one of the few Capos who’s stayed alive for so long, and he knows what he’s talking about. But I don’t want the same things he does. He had five mistresses while I was growing up. I met them all at one point in my life, and once my mother passed away I could understand he was lonely.
However, I never understood why he had a mistress before she died. They had a great marriage. My mother was beautiful and kind, and there was no reason for him to step away from her. After my mother had the first mistress poisoned, it was never the same between my parents.
I don’t want more than one woman, but I don’t tell him that. I’m going to have to do everything in my power to make this work with my soon-to-be wife. I’m rarely intimidated by anything, but the thought of disappointing her as my father did my mother, makes me sick inside. Ring’s not even on my finger yet and she has too much control already.
“I’ll be fine.”
He claps me on the back. “Good. You’ve been home two days now and I’ve heard nothing of your trip. How was Milan?”
“Beneficial. I tied up a loose strand and more should realize I mean business with the message left behind.”
His gaze beams with pride as he finishes his extra dry gin martini. “I had no doubt—” He begins to comment when we’re interrupted by a knock.
“Si?” my father calls out and Severo pops his head in.
“Capo, forgive the intrusion but the Bottaros have arrived.”
“Grazie Severo, show them to the sitting room,” my father replies, turning to me and tightening my tie just a touch and squeezing my shoulder. I don’t need it, but he’s showing me he cares and that he may also be a bit nervous, marrying his first born off to a southern Sicilian family. “You have the ring I gave you?”
“Yes.” I pat my suit pocket, feeling the small box pressing against my chest.
“You’ll wait until we’re at the dining table as we went over before? Follow tradition?”
“Si, Father.” His firm grip on my shoulder tightens briefly; it offers his support and gratitude for me following his orders like a good soldier.
I must, though, if I want to be the one awarded to take his place. Any of my brothers would do a decent job, but I don’t want them to have the burden of it. I want to do everything I can so they have an easier, safer life.
Severo lowers his head, his gaze trained to the floor as we exit, showing his unwavering respect and obedience. “The Bottaros are seated, Capo.”
My father passes him by without responding and I follow in his footsteps through the dim hallway. The beige walls along the small path are lined with expertly crafted frames holding pictures of myself and my siblings. It was the one thing my mother insisted upon. She swore that on the way to his office, my father would have to think of his family. That being surrounded by our photos we would be in the front of his mind as he went to handle business.
We enter the sitting room and everyone gets to their feet. Vito stands solemnly in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, appearing bored. He does, however, lower his head and eyes in submission when my father glances in his direction.
“Welcome to our home.” He greets the Bottaros as if they are old family friends and not enemies. They’ve always been an enemy, however, another thing that plagues me. How can I trust my future wife with the deceptive family she comes from?
And if she dies, then everyone will know I killed her. Would they fault me if she were to attempt to slit my throat in the middle of the night? I’ve been imagining her as a child all this time, but what if she’s actually a trained killer such as myself? My father assures me she is nothing of the sort, but one does not live as Capo without thinking of these things.
“Capo dei tutti Vendetti!” he greets and the older man exchanges a firm, friendly handshake with my father.
The woman to his side meekly steps forward, tears in her eyes as she meets my father’s commanding stare. “Oh, V?” She utters almost like a plea and my father’s façade falters momentarily before pulling her into a strong hug.
“She will be fine…Matteo will protect her. All of my sons will.”
“Th-thank you, Capo. Violet is…well, she is sought after by every family and now that we have tied our family to yours, there are threats against her life.”
My father shushes her. “She will become a Vendetti and no one will touch her. You have my word.”
Mr. Bottaro steps forward. “You have our gratitude, Capo. Anything we can do to aid in the Vendetti Empire, we will gladly assist.”
It takes years of training not to show a blink of emotion. I’m learning in mere moments prior to meeting my bride that there is indeed so much more that my father has yet to share with me. I thought he hated the Sicilians, so why does it feel more like he’s meeting old friends instead of a once-despised enemy?
“Matteo?” he calls and I step forward, my jaw tight with anger. I can’t stand it when he holds something back and I basically must walk in, guns blazing to stay on top of things. He pulls away, releasing the woman and she quickly wipes away a stray tear. The thing with my father, too, is he’ll never tell me what that was all about. He shares nothing unless he wishes to, and as the powerful man he is, you learn early on not to question him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bottaro,” I acknowledge and the woman practically tackles me into a tight hug, mumbling how thankful she is for protecting her daughter.
I say nothing. After all, I had no idea she needed any extra protection. Being my wife, of course she’d have my men around her for safety, but obviously, this is something else entirely. Because clearly, I needed more shit added to my already full load of taking over the Empire. why not add in a nineteen-year-old with who knows how many death threats on her head to my list. I should give her to my brothers and be done with it.
“Matteo,” my betrothed’s father begins, and I cut him off severely.
“I am to be Capo.”
He practically chokes, his eyes widening. “Of-of course, forgive me, Mr. Vendetti. I am honored to meet you and present my daughter’s hand to you.”
“Her hand, Mr. Bottaro?” I lift my brow as I continue to fuck with him. It’s the only payback I can inflict for my father’s lack of information. I tower over the older man, my gaze filled with anger, goading him to screw up. “I would expect you to present me with everything, not just her hand. I expect her loyalty, her devotion, and her cunt. Tell me, can you give me that?”
This time he does choke. He coughs as I squeeze his hand in mine and my father’s grip lands on my shoulder.
“Of course, Matteo, you will have all of her. Now release Mr. Bottaro’s hand before you cause him to have a stroke. This is meant to be a happy day, not one filled with hostility.”
My stare trains on his. He’s challenging me to stand up to him. One last show of power before he hands over the reins I suppose. Locking my anger away, I release the old man and take a step back. A blink later and the moment’s passed. A man my age comes into the sitting room with a young woman hot on his heels.
“Forgive the rudeness. My daughter wanted to freshen up before meeting Mr. Vendetti,” Mr. Bottaro supplies quickly.
The woman glances up, meeting my gaze and steals the breath straight from my lungs. It’s her...the woman from Milan.
“Pleasure, bella.” My father’s hand swallows hers in his gentle grip. He leads the beautiful woman toward me, and my voice is caught in my throat, leaving me speechless like a fool.
Her lashes flutter as her inquisitive orbs take in every detail of my face. Clearly she wasn’t expecting me either.
Violet’s father interrupts the t
rance like moment. “Forgive her disrespect, Mr. Vendetti. She was unaware of her betrothed. It was kept secret for her safety.”
I raise my hand, silently commanding the man to shut his mouth while I gaze at his daughter. Nineteen-fucking-years-old, this one. Jesus Christ and I’d already planned to fuck her, not knowing I was to be married to her. The attraction’s there, no doubt, but what the hell was she doing out partying in Milan? No wife of mine will be that accessible to other men. Ever.
“Is she even pure?” I flick my irises over her from head to toe and her cheeks flush at my implication. I’ve offended her. Good. She offends me, knowing she was to be married yet not holding me back from finger fucking her in the middle of a dance floor. It seems we have our own secrets from our fathers.
The old woman gasps at my blunt question and my father jumps in to smooth it over. “Matteo! Of course she’s a virgin; the marriage would never have been arranged otherwise.”
Violet’s nostrils flair. Her irises reflect anger at the embarrassment I’ve caused in front of her parents. The room seems ten degrees warmer since she’s entered, a light sweat aches to break over my brow and give away my discomfort. The tension’s so thick you could cut it with a butter knife at this point. With a deep inhale, I shake off the overheated feeling and look to my father. “Have you checked her?”
His jaw hardens, his expression mirroring mine most of the time. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this much resistance from me and he wouldn’t have received it had I known who I was marrying. Or had I been previously informed that there is obviously more to the young woman and her family than he’s been letting on leading up to this point. With an irritated swallow, he jerks his head to the side. “I have not. I trusted the Bottaro word.”
A grunt escapes me. It’s a full-fledged sign of disrespect in front of everyone. I’m so damn irritated at this point, I pay it no mind. Back when I was younger, he’d have whipped my back bloody for it. He’ll do no such thing in front of our guests today, being that I am moving into the head of the family’s position. “She’ll be checked before I break bread or exchange vows with the Bottaro Princess. Her purity will be confirmed before I offer her anything more than a second thought.”
“Nonsense,” Violet’s mother gasps in horror and her father rushes to quiet the outraged woman. In this life, this is a man’s world. She has no place to speak in a conversation about business, and when it comes down to it, that’s what her daughter is—a business transaction and like it or not, she needs me to agree. I’m the buyer in this deal, not the other way around.
“Fine!” my father grits out, snatching the girl’s wrist in haste before yanking her toward his office. He can be pissed all he wants. He wasn’t the one with his fingers in her cunt in the middle of a nightclub filled with people; I was.
I follow in his wake, gesturing to Severo with an order to keep her family in the sitting room. They don’t need to witness this. Rather than stopping in his office, my father goes one door farther. Violet stumbles to keep up with his pace and I smirk to myself—the bastard that I am at witnessing her discomfort and finding pleasure in it.
She was going to fuck me in that club. I know it. She deserves this little retribution. Back in old times, she’d have been killed for such a transgression—stoned to death or hung. I know, it’s very hypocritical and barbaric of me to do this, to feel that way, but I can’t help the flair of jealousy knowing that my soon-to-be wife may have fucked other men. That she may be a whore and is supposed to be rewarded with my name.
He flings her to a long, sandstone leather padded, table in the center of the room. We have other...traditions and use this table for the consummation ritual. If she’s pure, she’ll soon learn of the Vendetti way of consummation. With a flick of his fingers, my brothers trailing in behind me instantly grab her limbs, securing her to the table so she cannot escape. I cross my arms over my chest, a cruel smirk on my lips as my father pushes his hand up Violet’s delicate, light blue dress. She almost looks innocent in it. Almost. .
Violet cries out in surprise and I know he has his fingers inside her pussy. Will she be as wet as she was when mine were in her? Will her cunt be as tight and tempting as it was to me?
He groans, leaning his head back as his eyes find the ceiling. A moment later, he bends down, leaning in to push her skirt up, never removing his fingers. Using his other hand, he pushes her ebony lacy panties to the side. She’s cleanly waxed and I can see everything; her pink folds begging to be licked as her core sucks in his fingers.
He blows out a breath and brings his wet fingers to his mouth, tasting her. I should be furious, but I’m not. I’m too fucking turned on at seeing her cunt close enough for me to pound into it. “Christ, Matteo.” He nearly pants and adjusts his erection. “She’s pure and so very addicting. You will be a pleased man with her pussy.” We’re all turned on and completely fucked in the head, seeing nothing wrong with what’s taking place at the moment.
“Thank you, Father,” I reply with a quick nod and leave the room. I have to get some distance; I can’t claim her until after we say our vows. No matter if I’d planned to take her the first time we’d crossed paths. That isn’t how it’s done in our family. If it was, every one of us would be fighting right now to fuck her silky flesh.
Mr. Botarro’s busily pacing as I reenter the formally decorated sitting room. It still smells faintly of gardenia, my mother’s favorite scent. I guess my father can’t completely let her go, no matter how much time has passed. “Is she?” Mr. Bottaro inquires immediately.
I nod, offering him a neutral expression. “She’s fine, just cleaning up from the exam.” I’m sure Romano and the rest of my brothers are all fighting hard-ons at the moment as well.
Her mother releases a relieved breath and I must refrain from scoffing at her overreaction.
One of the staff quietly enters, seeking out my attention. “Dinner is ready, sir.”
“Thank you, Antonia.”
Her head bows and she’s gone as quickly as she appeared. My father likes his staff to be more like mice—rarely seen or heard, even though you know they’re indeed scurrying around. I, however, prefer to visit with them when I have a chance. How can you trust those who are in your home, cleaning and cooking for you, if you never speak to them or offer a polite comment? I know Romano has his preferred methods, but I have mine as well. I tend to believe if your household is content, then they’ll be less likely to betray or attempt to kill you.
“Shall we head for the dining room? My brothers will escort Violet when she’s finished.” It’s not a question, merely a polite order.
The two flick a worried gaze toward one another but nod in submission and follow Severo as he dutifully steps behind me—always watching my back. “I hope you enjoy prosciutto and fresh mozzarella? It’s a favorite of my brothers to start every dinner with.” Along with olives and an abundance of wine.
“Oh yes,” they both easily agree as we enter the lavishly decorated dining room. The table is dressed in layers of heavy black and white linen, trimmed with touches of silver. Resting on top is my late grandmother’s china; they’re only reserved for special occasions. The expensive dishes nearly glitter under the massive sparkling crystal chandelier, the staff shining everything to perfection. We do have that in common with most normal families, I suppose, and I’m guessing my father felt tonight called for special occasion dishware.
I snort, picturing him knuckle deep in Violet’s cunt. Special indeed.
“Mr. Bottaro, my father has arranged seating placement. If you’ll check the cards, I believe you are to be seated beside him as a sign of welcome.”
“I’m honored.”
I stand to the right of the head of the table, dutifully waiting for my father to enter before sitting. The Botarros observe my stance and do the same, not wanting to show disrespect.
Violet enters a moment later, her gaze glued to the floor. She must believe I told her parents about our
little informal exam, but I would never. I won’t put her mind at ease, though. I’ll let it fester until she works up the courage to ask.
“Grazie, Matteo, for hosting the Bottaros in my absence.” Romano sends a charming but fake smile around the room. “Marcella does a wonderful dinner. I hope you enjoy the welcome into our familia,” my father purrs to the Bottaros as he stops to stand behind his chair. Obviously tasting Violet on his fingers has set him back into a decent mood.
Lucky bastardo.
“It smells amazing!” Mrs. Botarro smiles warmly at my father. He’s no doubt fucked her at some point in his life or else she wants him to. That’d most certainly explain why I’m expected to marry this girl. My father knows I’ll chew her up and spit her out like a goddamn spoiled appetizer.
“Matteo, my son.” Romano’s eyes find mine and I meet his stare. He rarely admits that my brothers or I are his familia. His gaze is full of pride as he begins. “This has been a long time coming. Now that everything is falling where it is meant to be, and you have a woman that meets your station to wed, I feel as if I can finally pass our familia’s legacy to you. I could not think of anyone better to take over the Vendetti Empire. I know you will lead this familia with blood and power in the front of your mind. You’ve been blessed with an unyielding will that places your familia’s safety and success above all else. Should you falter, you have your brothers to lean on, as it is your responsibility to hold them up when needed. You will continue to bring honor to the Vendetti name and welcome sons into this world to carry on our heritage that’s been passed on through father and son in our familia for many generations.”
He pauses for a moment, scanning my brothers, seeing their approval at his well-thought-out spiel before he finishes. “We were meant to lead and will continue to do so. To power…to familia…and to you, Matteo Vendetti, Capo dei capi Ruthless.” He swallows and pulls me into a fatherly embrace, so unlike his normal stiff behavior and my six younger brothers cheer. He steps away, gesturing to the head of the table. “Your place, Capo.”
The Vendetti Empire Page 2