Dylan
Emilia guides me through a maze of hallways, never once bothering to look up from her phone. I stare at it longingly.
Natalie is probably worried about me and Marianna... I was supposed to pick up my bridesmaid's dress from the store. Shit. She was going to kill me.
Not if this family doesn't kill you first, my conscience reminds me.
I've been missing for probably a day... can't be sure though. The drugs they knocked me out with to get me here, have my mind still a little foggy.
"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked. She peers over at me, her forehead creasing as if she's trying to remember why I was still there.
"He said not to let you near any mobile device."
"When did he ever say that?"
She showed me her phone and a text that said; 'Don't let her near any mobile devices.'
Asshole.
After a bit of wandering she turns into an unlocked room and I follow her in lamely, drawing back in amazement once I take it all in.
Tall walls, high ceilings, in colours of beige and gold that scream 'expensive.' Crystal chandeliers the size of my entire person hang smack dap in the centre, over the four-poster canopy bed, covered in sheets of silk.
To my left are double doors that lead to a closet and right beside that is another pair of doors that lead to what I assume could be the bathroom. "Whose room is this?" I asked her. This is nicer than anything I've ever owned.
"Yours," she said and my mouth dropped but I quickly clench my jaw. I wasn't going to let her think I was impressed with any of this, even though I sure the fuck was.
"Here we go..." Emilia drawls, moving towards the bed in a lazy strut before she settles in a neat fold at the edge, looking very much like a queen staring down her nose at the pauper who'd come to beg for favours. "I'll have Sandor bring over some of my clothes until we can fix you."
"Fix me?"
Does this bitch want to get punched in her throat?
"I am fine just the way I am, thank you very much."
"Fine doesn't cut it here," She said. "You'll be staying with us. That means wherever we go, you go and with that, all eyes will be on you too. Us Correttis have an image to uphold and you're not going to fuck it up with your chipped nails and bushy eyebrows." I'm starting to think this whole family is just a bunch of assholes. "Sometime this week I'll come by with some people whose going to help you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. I'd recommend getting familiar with them since they'll be the ones charged with dressing you up for formal events where we're expected to show. And that also includes you, in case that wasn't clear enough for you. Any questions?"
Yes, why are you such a bitch?
"No."
"Good," She says, eyes narrowing. "Because I have a question of my own." Before I know it, she was in front of me. So close I can see the grey specks eyes, and feel the weight of all that wealth and fame exuding off of her in waves, that I just can't help but feel inferior. "I want to know what my cousin wants with you?"
"And I would rather not have your cousin haul my ass out of my very comfortable apartment? Yet, here we are." I say dryly. "We both can't get what we want."
Her eyes sparkled but not for the reason I'd hoped. "So he kidnapped you then?"
I scoff. "You think I would come to the headquarters of the most renowned mafia family in the world for the shits? What do you take me for?"
"His whore," she said almost instantly. She slowly dragged her gaze over me once more. "But I'm starting to think that's not it."
"Ding, ding, ding. Right on the money," I quipped. My frustrations leaking into my tone in a way I couldn't salvage for politeness. But fuck it. I have the right to be snappy. I've been kidnapped, judged and called a whore in the span of an hour. Fuck manners. And fuck this family.
"I am not screwing your cousin nor will I ever. And if you think you're going to try to intimidate me to get something from me," I laughed, a bitter sound that ricocheted through the quiet room. "I've grown up in Culiacán, some rich cunt in Swarovski isn't going to scare me."
I didn't know what I expected after my retort but it wasn't the slow, impressed smile that pulled at her lips or the way her expression opened up.
Why do I get the feeling that I passed some kind of test?
"I'll be coming to get you for dinner in ten," she mutters. "Welcome to the Famiglia, signorina."
Without another word, she breezes past me in a wave of Channel perfume and the sharp sound of her Louis Vuitton tapping against the marble and whatever fortitude I'd attempted to build against this family. I could feel it slowly chipping away, brick by brick as she disappears out of the room.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Enzo
Sandor places my dinner in front of me and I don't bother looking up as I skim through a cluster of urgent emails from my phone, not paying any mind to the three idiots around me debating the pros of sex toys.
Our butler, Sandor reaches over to refill Malachai's cup to my right before disappearing out the door again.
Vince fiddled with the giant signet on his pinky rolling his eyes ever so often after something Nino says. As my Consigliere and Enforcer, Vince and Nino are always expected to be at my left.
Everyone knew their place at the dining table. A hierarchy that has been maintained even before I breathed air into the world.
When my father was the Capo, he sat in my place at the head of the table, my mother at his right, I was at his left (being the heir), and Malachai right beside my mother. My uncles, aunts, and cousins would fan out under him. Everyone in the family knew their places and we only ever shifted seats if there was a death in the family, someone was banished or absent like half of my family is now.
I was about to cut their conversation short when suddenly Emilia and Dylan flounced into the room and all my focus is snatched up by the one Latin beauty with the balls to shoot me.
She stood at the door to the dining room in one of Emilia's dresses. A black number that clung to her figure and accentuated those soft, natural curves. Her hair came down in gentle waves all the way to her slim waist, clouding my mind with thoughts of my hands fisted in her hair as I pounded into her—
Fuck...
Not a good time for a hard-on. I'm with my family for fuck's sake.
She takes in everyone in the room with cold indifference. Her eyes lingered on me with a glare that could impale a weaker man. But I wasn't he and I welcomed the unbridled challenge from her. It'll only make that moment when I bring her to her knees that much sweeter.
Nino took her in, gaze locked on her chest that was on full display through the low neckline of the dress. He was lapping like a dog at the sight of her, and it grated on my nerves.
He whistled lowly, "Goddamn..."
I glowered at him. I could already see the wheels turning in his head, images and ideas riffling through his head. Thinking up ways he was going to lure her to his bed. Over my dead fucking body that'll happen. "Don't even think about it," I warned.
His eyes snapped to mines before a slow grin grew on his face as he picked up something from my hardened expression. I've never wanted to hurt my cousin more than just now.
In short confident strides, Dylan takes a seat a few placings away from Nino. We might as well have not been in the room for the way she ignored us, sliding that perfect ass into her chair.
I'm reminded of her fire once more. Apparently being turned into Emilia's project didn't dissipate the venom in her tongue. She's still the hothead that shot me in that shoebox you call an apartment.
Speaking of being shot. I'll have to remind myself to pay her back for that. I hadn't expected it. Neither had my men. When I saw her come in with that gun I'd assume it was a prop. A lousy attempt to try to scare us off, little did I know the bitch knew how to use it and she was a damn good shot too.
If Luca hadn't anticipated the shot and tackled her, taking her to the ground and knocking her out in the process, I would've been dead. A bullet straight through my heart.
Nearly jolting me out of thoughts, Sandor appears at my side and all chatterings at the table cease to regard him. "Yes?"
"Mr Scuderi is here per your request, Mr Coretti," he informs me.
I can feel Dylan's eyes boring into the side of my face.
"Send him in," I order and Sandor disappears again.
The table is silent for the minute it took for them to arrive.
Governor Scuderi was a short, stubby man who constantly smelt like apple cider and had more chest hair than a yeti. You could see it peeking out of his white button-up shirt. I put down my wine, it going sour on my tongue with that thought.
The Governor greeted everyone with a coffee-stained smile but I didn't miss the sweat on his temple and the way his hand clenched and unclenched at his sides. He was nervous.
Good. Then I wouldn't have to do a lot of talking.
"Mr Coretti, it's a pleasure to be invited to your home and with your lovely family."
I scoffed. "Lovely isn't a word I would use. Sit," I commanded, and like the good little rat he is, he plopped into a chair across from Dylan.
His eyes idling on her longer than I appreciated and I got the sudden urge to kill something... Him to be exact, which is perplexing. The thought is too rash, too reckless. Nothing like me.
I shake off the odd feeling and focus on the guest. The sweaty, disgusting, bastard of a guest.
Sandor comes in with another placing in front of Scuderi. He looks around the large dining room, taking in the large half-a-million chandelier hanging above our heads. He whistled appreciatively, "Nice place you got here, Sir. It's—"
"Cut the shit, Scuderi. If I wanted to get my ass kissed I would've thrown money at you." The man clamped his jaw shut. "So how are my drugs treating you?"
He stiffened and if I didn't know any better I'd say he was squirting out more liquid he was putting in by the look on his face. This is the face of a liar, a cheat, a man who's been caught red-handed and he knows it.
But what he also knows is that I have the power to ruin his life and I didn't even have to get out of my seat to do it.
You'd think they'd know better than to pull something like this on you when you hold so much power over their heads. But no, there's always someone who thinks they can run your shit better than you, and then traitorous little shits like Scuderi here are born.
"Pardon me, Mr. Coretti. But what drugs?"
I almost rolled my eyes. "You're old, Scuderi but not ancient. I hope you didn't forget the 20k worth of drugs you huffed from my factory. Because if somehow you've garnered amnesia in the two hours we've separated then I hope you wouldn't oppose to me jogging your memory." My eyes glinted. "A little blunt force trauma seems to always do the trick. Would you like to find out?"
Scuderi went from red to corpse pale in a matter of seconds. A new record I believe. He shook his head like his life depended on it. "No, no need. I-I remember..."
"Ahh! So you remember stealing from me." I could very well put a bullet through his skull right then and there but I reel it in and settled an indifferent stare on him instead. There would be time for that soon.
He sunk deeper into his seat. Pathetic excuse of a man. How I decided to make him governor was beyond me. Oh no, wait. I remember now.
He was a dirty lawyer, loyal to the bone and easily manipulated. He seemed like a good match. An easy way I could get my assets in and out of the country without problems. While he pranced around my kingdom pretending to be king, I got shit done in the shadows, building and sculpting an empire. Scuderi knew he was replaceable. That's why he always played safe with me...
Until now.
"Why?" I asked, impassively and before he could stammer out a pathetic excuse I held up a hand and he stilled. "No, I know why. You're bankrupt, losing everything. Your house, your wife. Who by the way is fucking the slum, Ricardo." I snort. "She could do better but that's none of my business."
Dylan was leaning on the edge of her seat, drinking every word like it was her last supper.
Malachai and the rest looked from Scuderi to me with uninterested eyes. They knew what was about to happen and they couldn't care less. This was an ordinary Saturday Night.
I swirled the red wine in the glass, my movements calculative, giving the illusion of control. Not illusion—I am in control. "You owe a lot of dangerous people money. So you decided to cut my product for a quick buck," I continued. "Now because of you, I'm down supplies and people are asking questions they're not supposed to be asking. You see my problem here, don't you?"
I looked up at Scuderi. He was shaking like a leaf in Autumn and I smiled like a maniac. Maybe I liked this too much, crushing weak men and Scuderi was involuntarily feeding my vice. "I-I'm sorry but my family— I had to—"
"I don't give a fuck about your sorry. You made a mistake and your mistake is costing me."
A minute passes by with Scuderi silent as an empty grave. Then something close to resolve passes over him and his back straightens. I cock an eyebrow. This would be interesting.
"You can't hurt me." He says firmly. "I'm the Governor. People would be asking questions. I'm the Governor for fuck's sake."
I laughed, dryly.
He flinches. "Are you forgetting I got you your seat? I put you there because it benefitted me... for a while at least. I own you, not the other way around. Nino, I'm done here."
Nino paused from wolfing down his food, and before Scuderi could blink, Nino was behind him, swinging a coil around his neck. Scuderi went from red to purple as he flailed and fought against him.
Nino's arm flexed as the cord tightened.
When the fighting stopped and Scuderi's head flopping over into his mushroom risotto, Nino slides back into his seat and continues his dinner unruffled.
He was dead.
I'd probably have my men pin the crime on Ricardo, he was becoming a pain... and everyone knows he has a penchant for strangling his victims. Or maybe I'd make it look like a gang murder.
Scuderi did have a lot of enemies, he's the reason some of the gangs were missing a couple of members in the county jail.
I shrug, I'd leave it to Malachai to decide. His job was to clean up our messes anyway.
I looked down the table just remembering Dylan was here.
I expected horror, disbelief... something, but what I saw wasn't anything close to that.
Only a second after, she looked up and leaned over the table. "Excuse me," she murmured to Scuderi's lifeless body, shoved his hand away, grabbed the salt, and went on as if it was a normal Sunday evening.
I sat back. Who is this girl?
Anybody else would've run out of the room screaming.
Why was she different?
She caught me watching her and raised a middle finger.
I smiled.
I thought this was going to be easy, but she is proving to be everything but.