The first thing Francesco noticed was the warmth of the sunlight spilling in between his sheer cream curtains hanging on the floor-to-ceiling windows in his bedroom. The sheer panels danced as the light breeze flooded into the bedroom.
Francesco lay still enjoying the few seconds of peace and clarity before he woke up because his average day was anything but peaceful. Francesco stretched, his limbs stretching across the California king-sized bed that he lay in the middle of, as usual.
As lonely as it was, it was preferred. It was rare for Francesco to ever have a woman over, and in the small chance he did, they never slept in his bed.
Francesco reached for his phone, checking for any messages or missed calls, besides his nuisance of a brother.
Francesco's elder brother Giuseppe was a difficult man to tolerate. Born four years before Francesco, Giuseppe was a hover personality.
He would call Francesco numerous times a day, constantly trying to insert his opinion on any action Francesco chooses to make. The new thing he was pressing was for Francesco to marry.
As old fashion as it was, it was very common in their family for the men to be already married when they take over, but Francesco had taken over three years ago and never had the time to begin courting a woman, let alone preparing a wedding. He had decided to cut his losses long ago.
Checking the list of missed calls, they all came down to one person, Giuseppe Deluca.
Francesco picked up his phone and hit the redial button one single time before listening to the phone chime.
While he waited, he made his way over to the bathroom to relieve himself, Giuseppe answered.
"Ciao, you're finally awake!" Giuseppe's voice calls from the other side of the phone, loud and booming as usual.
"It's seven in the morning," Francesco grumbled back to the man on the phone.
Francesco caught a glance of himself in the mirror, his tall strong frame nearly touching the top of the mirror. He had stubble decorating his lower jaw.
The white tank he had fallen asleep in provided contrast from his olive-colored skin. Francesco picked up his toothbrush and began brushing as Giuseppe began to speak.
"Early bird catches the worm, or so they say." Giuseppe said, "But listen, what will you be doing tomorrow around seven?"
Francesco adjusted his toothbrush, so he could speak, "Why?"
"I'm away in the States currently and I will return tomorrow. I'm bringing you your guest." Giuseppe explained.
Oh right, Francesco thought, his guest.
No matter how far Francesco pushed himself away from his family's old-school traditions, he couldn't do it anymore.
It would never be worth losing everything. Francesco has worked for his position his entire life; it was all he ever knew. But he knew that marrying someone, even though an arrangement such as this, was a large commitment.
Even with both parties knowing that it was fake, he would still be forced to see this woman every day of his life. He would be forced to make nice and cordial.
Francesco wasn't completely opposed to the idea either, he has spent the large majority of his single life alone. He had tried falling in love before, but it hadn't ended in his favor. Francesco grabbed his toothbrush, applying the appropriate amount of paste onto it before brushing.
Giuseppe could be heard faintly on the phone that Francesco left on the sink purposely to tune his brother out.
While he was busy playing matchmaker, Francesco had bigger issues to deal with. He had found that there was an informant in his troops, but someone not reporting to the police, but to Francesco's very own competition.
He didn't like killing, but more often than not, it worked as a means to an end.
If he didn't kill this man, then people wouldn't take him seriously, they may overthrow him or assume he's weak enough for them to make small moves on their own.
No there was no room for error in Francesco's life.
"Are you even listening to me or am I talking to myself?" Giuseppe's thick whiny voice rang over the sound of the running water.
"You call me in the morning to question me on listening to you? You interrupted my day." Francesco said through the foam in his mouth while picking up the cell phone and placing his brother on speaker.
"We will be arriving at seven o'clock tonight; I will be meeting her tonight," Giuseppe stresses.
"How much did you pay her?" It hurt Francesco to ask the question, knowing that the only way he was getting married was because she would be paid.
The ideal woman he wanted in his life would be there simply for love. Knowing this woman would probably just be seeking his money made him feel some sort of ashamed.
"The amount is inconsequential," Giuseppe said, leaving a cryptic undertone.
"I will be ready when you all arrive," Francesco said before quickly hitting the end call button.
Stepping into his closet Francesco pulled out grey dress pants, pulling them on. He would be meeting his future wife today; he didn't know how presentable he should be.
He decided on a deep purple shirt and pulled it on over the wife beater he wore. It took him moments to complete his outfit with dress shoes and a Rolex.
Once dressed, he exited his master suite and made his way downstairs. His men, Louis and Henri sat at the bar of his kitchen; it wasn't uncommon for them to let themselves into the house in the morning.
The men handled everything for Francesco, they ensured he ate, ensured he was safe, cleaned up after him, killed for him, and spoke for him.
If Francesco didn't want to, he made them. They never complained about it either, it was quite often he wondered if they followed him out of respect or simply because it was his dollar that fed their families.
"Ciao fratelli," Francesco mumbled as he walked into the kitchen. On the counter was a smoothie freshly made sitting on the counter.
"Ciao, I got your favorite smoothie from the deli," Louis said.
Louis was a tall French man who held the fatherly trait Francesco missed out on getting in his childhood. He was years older than Francesco, originally his father's omega. Francesco found wisdom in Louis that he couldn't get anywhere else.
Louis was the only person besides Giuseppe that would tell Francesco how it is without sugarcoating a thing.
"Grazie," Francesco mumbled, grabbing the drink and taking a sip from the thick green straw. It was Francesco's favorite, something he never mentioned allowed but Louis picked up on after nearly raising him.
"You meet your new wife today, how are you feeling?" Louis asked, Louis sat at the bar wearing jeans, Nike's, and a leather jacket over a white t-shirt.
His style had always been casual and laid back, you'd never know he's killed more men than a small-town dictator.
"I had forgotten." Francesco lies.
Henri sat silently, listening to the conversation. He was never a man of many words, he simply obeyed.
He was another French man who was shorter than Louis and a lot meaner. Francesco had never seen any emotion on the man's face besides rage.
"Forgotten? This large house will be filled with a woman barefoot and pregnant, carrying your bébés." Louis jumped from Italian to English to French frequently.
It was his best way to communicate with Francesco who stubbornly only knew Italian and English.
Francesco shrugged at Louis, taking another sip of the drink. "Paulo will be here by tonight, correct?" He changed the subject knowing it would stay that way, Louis was smart enough not to press.
"He's on his way here, untouched just as you requested. Sergio finally managed to fit you into his schedule." He had no choice; he knew Francesco had threatened the safety of his family had he not readily responded to him.
Francesco has never touched a family, but violence toward people he had done him wrong lessened the chance of people calling him bluff.
"Great, I was looking for a reason to drink." Francesco smiled.
Henri smiled at that moment; he loved a good reason to drink. "The meeting is at nine, if we would like to get there on time we should leave now."
"Are you driving yourself?" Louis asked while standing.
"Pull out the Boxster," Francesco said, and Louis nodded, making his way to the garage.
Flicking through his phone Francesco's thumb rested on his mother's name, he was supposed to call her first thing the morning seeing as it was her birthday, but he was not ready to hear her scolding him about everything thing she deemed wrong in his life.
Francesco's mother raised three kids in the mafia, she always put his father first, and the children second.
From prison, his father managed to control everything, which is why Francesco was patiently waiting for his new wife picked by his brother and sent by his father.
Francesco stepped out of the house to the cobblestone driveway where his car was neatly parked. Louis tossed Francesco the keys as made his way to the driver's side door. The car purred to life in moments, and moments later it was cruising down the coast.
While most men liked to live directly near the action Francesco kept living in his family home in the villas.
It was far away from the city and surrounded by its mountains and hillsides which provided Francesco the perfect protection. As he made his way through the mountainside he reflected momentarily, soon he wouldn't be all alone.
He would have someone forced by his side; he couldn't help but wonder if she was beautiful. Would she be filled with rage and determination like his mother or filled with enthusiasm and joy like his baby sister?
Would she be a bitch like Jemma? Francesco's ex-fiancé. It wasn't his first time trying to marry and be happy in his life.
It wasn't like he didn't ever want it, he had before but his heart was scorned. The only other way to marry was through arrangement.
He couldn't decide if he felt ashamed or not.
Francesco's Boxster pulled into the parking lot of one of the most elite restaurants in the city.
La Sponda sat near the water, giving anyone who chose to sit outside a beautiful view of the Grand Canal. Though, the outdoor seating was under a gazebo of sorts, with vines climbing towards the wood that connected it in the center.
Given that it was the morning, the place is still closed, but Francesco knew that the man he was meeting would be in attendance, seeing as he owned the place.
Alongside the street were parked cars, all expensive, showing off the wealth of the people that surrounded the area.
Climbing from his Boxster, Francesco adjusted his suit before making his way inside, Henri and Louis opting to stay outside and wait.
Inside, Sergio sat at the only table that was set up filled with already-made breakfast food. He perked up seeing Francesco but given the sweat that lined his brow and his nervous laughter, he was anything but 'perky'.
"Buongiorno Francesco," Sergio said, "Come stai?"
"Stò bene." Francesco took his seat across from Sergio, trying to refrain from turning up his nose at the sounds of the pompous man-eating.
"You came here because you're upset about the deal I made with your friend, no?" Sergio wasted no time.
"Deals not made directly with me are not from me." Francesco answered, "You want to skim money to pad your pockets? Fine. But you still owe me."
"Sí? And you're in the place to be asking demands from me?"
"I have a city filled with shit and trash until I am paid. Given the tourist season coming up, I assume you'd want it cleaned up, no?" Sergio paused for a moment, it was brief, but Francesco noticed it.
"From where I am sitting, someone will clean the shit up," Sergio emphasized the word shit, making Francesco understand the underlying insult.
"If you don't want to work, there's always someone to take your place." Francesco shrugged, "I can have it arranged."
"Are you threatening me?"
"A threat would require you to try my bluff," Francesco said with a smirk. The last thing that Francesco wanted was a repeat from 2015.
In his youth, he had been foolish enough to target politicians directly. While it had worked, Francesco had never had more of a focus on him greater than those two years.
Yet, with risk, he gained more. It allowed him to grow, and by growing, violence was less needed these days.
Sergio glared at Francesco, and if looks could kill, Francesco would've been dead. Francesco watched as Sergio regained his composure, dabbing his lips nervously with a white cloth napkin before speaking again.
"Repeat the price that was given originally," Sergio muttered.
"You haven't forgotten, Congressman." Francesco said, "My men will be here tonight to pick it up."
Francesco stood, satisfied with his intimidation. Rarely these days had Francesco had to leave his house to have his work handled for him. But on occasions like this, many were more afraid to see Francesco's face appear than Henri and Louis.
"Enjoy your meal," Francesco said as he departed. His confidence faltered as he stepped through the doors, remembering he would soon meet his bride that night.
Eleanor wondered to herself if the man sitting next to her, Giuseppe, could hear her heart beating in her chest. To herself, it was the only thing she could hear. His words came out muffled and far as she currently lived in her head.
A head that was riddled with anxiety. And oh boy did she have a reason to be anxious. Throughout the past three weeks, Eleanor had only known anxiety. Though sometimes, anger and sadness did make an appearance.
It had all happened so quickly. So quickly in fact that Eleanor had brought it upon herself. Having been in school for six years to earn a four-year degree, Eleanor had hit a brick wall in life.
All the while, she watched her mother get sicker and sicker every day, while her father worked his hardest to be able to support the family.
Her parents didn't know that Eleanor had heard them when they would cry and pray together every night. Pray that her mother's health would improve and pray that her father could make ends meet.
Many times, those prayers went unheard. Eleanor had opted to drop out of school to help her father. It had improved their living situation for a little while — like a band-aid on a bullet wound, it was no permanent fix.
It wasn't until she met Giuseppe. She had known Giuseppe for a while. Who could forget the short Italian man who came into the library every month, walking directly to the private offices and only leaving at the end of the day?
Though, it wasn't exactly books that he was studying. Eleanor turned to glance at Giuseppe, he hummed along as he expertly navigated the winding roads.
Giuseppe was a flamboyant man. He was short but always bore a deep tan. Just being in the city for an hour had proven to Eleanor why. The city they drove through looked straight off of a postcard.
While every time she had previously met Giuseppe, he was dressed casually, today it seemed as though he had something to prove. He wore a Burgundy suit, perfectly tailored around his plush body.
He wore the rings she had always seen him wear, and they rattled against the steering wheel to the David Bowie beat.
"You are going to love it here, of that, I am sure," Giuseppe said, he was practically beaming. Eleanor gave him a nervous smile before turning her attention back out the window.
She hoped he is cheerful disposition would rub off on her, but Eleanor feared until she had seen Francesco in person, she wouldn't be able to quell the nerves in her stomach.
In the two years she had gotten to know Giuseppe, she felt like she still knew nothing of the man. He would always stop at her coffee station when he would come and visit one of the Greek professors at UCLA, Professor Williams.
Based on the grunting she could often hear from the closed doors; Giuseppe wasn't studying much of anything. But still, whenever he visited, he would stop by to talk to Eleanor.
She heard many of his stories from his home, in Italy, but she never thought she would be in his car in said location. On her way to meet and marry his brother.
Eleanor had seen countless photos of Francesco prior, and she had to admit that he was extremely handsome. Skin as dark as his brothers, though he was taller and had a lean physique.
In all of the photos, Giuseppe had shown her, he had never smiled. Giuseppe chalked it all up to him being an elusive billionaire of the sorts. While Eleanor didn't care much about his money, it was the only reason she had come.
When she closed her eyes, she could still see the look on her father's face when he was told that her mother now needed full-time care. When even just having a nurse two out of seven days a week was quickly pushing the family to bankruptcy.
Then there was Giuseppe, which sadly enough had been Eleanor's only friend. A friend that only came to California once every three months. He had asked her how she was doing, and she immediately began to sob uncontrollably.
But unlike what Eleanor thought, Giuseppe held her and listened to her complain about her life without feeling bad. A week later they had come up with this plan.
Giuseppe was already in the process of looking for a bride for his younger brother. Initially, Eleanor balked at the idea, thinking it was practically prostitution with more of a commitment.
But Giuseppe had been with her for two weeks, and every time she saw him, they discussed it. From what she had known of him so far if the man he was arranging the marriage to be was his brother, then certainly they were similar...
But what attractive rich man needs a marriage arranged? The knots in her stomach grew to the level of discomfort. As the car slowed, Eleanor knew that soon all of her uncertainties would be answered.
Francesco sat at the large circular table that resided in the center of his entertainment room. Even though the name might invite excitement, the room was just as sterile as the rest of the previously made castle.
Francesco kept the ornate furniture spotless, not often inviting visitors to the home. But there had been a table to play Francesco's favorite game, Poker. Knowing that his would-be bride was showing up that night, Francesco opted for drinks with friends to ease the nerves building up in his abdomen.
"You think Giuseppe grabbed whatever dowdy chubby white girl he could find in America?" Francesco's friend, Andreas asked.
Andreas was the same age as Francesco, and on occasion, he was nice to be around. Though, he never could tell when a joke of his has gone on too long.
The girl, Eleanor, had been the topic of discussion this night.
While Francesco and his friends surrounded the poker table, Henri opted to sit on the couch, flipping through a book. Louis sat at a small desk, putting together a boat in a bottle.
"Why assume she will be dowdy? She could be beautiful; Giuseppe knows his brother." Henri murmured while not taking his eyes off his book.
"What beautiful girl has to get into an arranged marriage?" Andreas said with an eye roll. Francesco couldn't help but agree, and it had him wishing he wasn't so hands-off throughout the entire process.
"Arranged marriages are still very much a thing." Louis chimed in, sitting his tools down and looking over at the group sitting at the table, "My parents were in an arranged marriage, and they were happy until the day they died."
"Louis, you are fucking seventy." Andreas said with a chuckle in his voice, "Of course, you're accustomed to it."
"Language," Henri warned. One that flew directly over Andreas' head as he continued.
"Listen, what are the odds that Giuseppe walks through that door with a perfect ten? I am talking tits, ass, face." Andreas placed his cards face down on the table, officially holding up the game. "It's unlikely.'
Francesco had yet to chime in. It was easier to pretend that he was unbothered by the situation when he remained quiet. Francesco didn't want to feel any hope or dread, he simply wanted the situation to happen and be over with already.
He had known he had chosen right by inviting over the small crowd of men. To watch them bicker back and forth was something that had always amused Francesco. Despite the violence, it had always reminded him of just how many people he had in his corner.
Surrounded at the table with Andreas to his left, there was Gabriele and Lorenzo—Enzo for short. While the relationship with the other two had been a rocky start, out of all the men at the table, Francesco was closest to Enzo.
They had been friends since their youth, one of the few organic relationships Francesco possessed. But over time, their friendship grew into more of a brotherly bond.
Every man needed someone they could trust that wasn't blood, and that would be Enzo. Enzo who was normally the most talkative person in the room remained silent and pensive as he stared at his cards.
"Want to bet money on it?" Enzo asked, finally joining in the conversation.
Andreas grew a wide grin that nearly split his face, "Of course, I would, brother." The two were not brothers.
"Fine." Enzo slammed his cards on the table, no longer caring to conceal them, "A hundred thousand."
Andreas' eyes shot up to his hairline, "Che cosa? Are you crazy?" Everyone in the room knew that out of all the men present, only Enzo could have that amount of liquidated cash on hand.
Enzo was far from a man who worked for Francesco. He had never truly joined the family. Enzo had always advertised himself as a free man with specific loyalties. He was known as the Fixer. Any problem to come by could be handled by Enzo easily... well for a small price...
"A hundred thousand, right now. You got it?" Enzo asked, leaning across the table to Andrea, who hadn't realized the threat.
"No! You know that." Andreas said dramatically.
"Then shut the fuck up." Enzo said exasperated, "I am sick of hearing your endless harping on a woman who will one day control you."
Francesco had doubted that any woman aside from his mother could easily control a crowd such as this. While the men were mostly loyal and sure, some — like Andreas, were too cocksure. Many had to be put in place before they could have the title of green removed from their name.
"I second that," Henri murmured.
"Third," Louis said. The words had caused everyone in the room to chuckle, finally easing away the tension that had been building unprovoked.
"Listen, whatever broad that walks through those doors will be whatever she needs to be to fit in. And if not..." Enzo shrugged in sarcastic tension, "She will no longer be."
The grin on his face didn't extend all the way, telling Francesco that his best friend was only partially joking.
"She will be here any moment now, so settle your bets now," Francesco murmured after taking a long sip of the cocktail that Henri had made him hours ago.
Usually, in circumstances that made Francesco this nervous, he would find himself drinking in surplus.
Tonight, his nerves could barely stomach the liquor.
Francesco's words sobered Enzo, but Andreas — who always failed to read a room, continued.
"Well, Francesco if you don't like her, pass her to me. I have little standards." Andreas said as he picked up his cards once more.
"I think you have just hit the last thing I am willing to hear from you tonight," Henri said, discarding his book and standing from the couch.
While both Henri and Louis' age showed clearly in their looks — both men having aged set wrinkles and grey hair, they were still not to be trifled with. Once Francesco's fathers' best and most loyal men, at their age they were now a sort of bodyguard for Francesco.
They were always in his home before he woke, doing things a parent would do for a child. Still, they were lethal killers first and foremost.
Henri stood a head taller than Louis, his long hair always tied into a braid at the base of his skull. He had a thick mustache, with an even longer beard.
His body was covered head to toe in tattoos, something he enjoyed getting in his youth. Even with his age visible, Henri was intimidating. And for a man in his line of work, Henri put respect at the forefront of his mind.
Francesco should have been equally as irritated as Henri but seeing as the woman he was to be marrying was nothing but an abstract thought still, he felt no offense in his words.
Added to the amusement of watching Henri beat Andreas's ass, Francesco stayed silent.
Andreas rolled his eyes, "Sit down, Grandpa. She isn't even here yet. There is no damsel to protect."
Francesco had failed to see Henri move before he lunged across the sofa and snatched Andreas up before slamming his body onto the poker table, scattering chips and cards everywhere.
Henri hit Andreas squarely in his face, the audible crunch of his nose breaking ripping through the room.
Andreas fell to the floor as Henri regained his composure, dusting off imaginary dust from his shoulders. Andreas shot back up, as though to attack Henri back, causing Francesco to step in.
Before Andreas' weak hit could land on Henri, Francesco snatched him up with two hands, finishing the job Henri respectfully started.
The men in the room let Francesco land three punches on Andreas before pulling Francesco off of him. Andreas lay bloodied on the floor, his movements slow as he attempted to stand.
"Now, get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sober," Francesco demanded.
Enzo let out a chuckle behind Francesco as Andreas made his way out of the room. "And my hundred thousand."
Francesco followed Enzo's gaze past him. In the doorway of the room stood Giuseppe in a Burgundy suit and what Francesco had thought was the most beautiful woman in the entire world.
"So much for everything I just said in the car," Giuseppe murmured disappointedly. So much for first impressions.