an:
before you read this chapter, don't forget to read Chapter 37 and 38
I added Chapter 37 at the request of those who wanted to read the proposal scene so it went up later
***
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e p i l o g u e
Casteel was his Mama's favorite.
When she was alive, of course.
Then his fucking no good of a brother Sebastian murdered her in childbirth.
Casteel had been the last one his Mama had seen. She had told him how proud she was of his grades at school, how he would be the brightest of all her kids, and how Alexander couldn't hold a candle to what Mama's little Cas could do. Casteel was special. He was Mama's boy.
Then she asked him for a glass of water. Hers had emptied and she needed water oh so badly that little Cas had to go.
When he came back, glass in hand, Mama was no more.
That was the day Casteel Lorenzo lost the only person who loved him unconditionally. Without Mama, Casteel was left with a family who didn't give two shits about the middle child. He could do anything he wanted to do. He would play for hours, not come home until late at night and no one would ask him where he was.
His father was busy with Alexander, the perfect son, the heir to his empire, and Alexander was busy with that little shit Sebastian who took Mama from them.
His brothers never meant much to him. They were just family. Someone to call when he got himself in a mess which never happened.
Everyone feared the monster under their beds and Casteel was the monster under everyone's beds.
Who would ever mess with a monster?
He had been living his life as it went until one day, one little girl hiding behind the Hitman Holland caught his eye.
Casteel didn't know why he wanted her. She was special. She was as innocent as a freshly plucked flower.
Little did he know how much he would trample that flower until it wasn't a flower anymore.
That flower had a name and right now, Casteel couldn't remember her name.
Was it Tasha? Tara?
He couldn't be sure. She had a strange name.
Not that he was thinking of her tonight.
His mind was occupied by someone else—someone who had her pussy clenching around his dick in the back alley of a bar some hours ago.
Someone with grey eyes and soft, blonde hair, someone who smelled way too good.
He had left those grey eyes all the way back in New York but as he stumbled upon his drunk ass to enter his home, Casteel felt like he carried the pain in them with him.
"Mi famiglia!" He announced his arrival as he stepped foot into the grandiose porch of his mansion. "The prodigal son has returned!"
He found his soldati at every door, stood straight, and their expressions firm. They snapped their heads at him as he padded into the Persian carpets, the scent of home sending an ache to his chest.
He hated the organ in his chest. It fucked him up at the worst times.
One of the soldati, a man Casteel remembered as old man Declan, stepped forward.
"You look happy, boss," Declan said, his beady brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Why shouldn't I be? I fucked the greatest chick to ever exist on the streets of New York," Casteel told him, bringing him close with an arm around his neck.
Declan didn't touch him. He had his hands behind his back as he let his Master drag him around the hallway in his drunken stupor.
"Oh yeah?" Declan sounded like he enjoyed hearing the gossip so Casteel grinned, continuing his tale.
"She was so fucking soft. Her lips...petals of heaven..." He recalled the taste of her lips, the way they felt on his skin, around his cock. Who would have thought that a blowjob at a dirty alley would become his top ten most-lived moments? "Her eyes...grey as the dawn sky...And she was all over me."
"She sounds fascinating."
"Doesn't she?" Releasing Declan, his attention turned to the rest of the soldati.
It was a strange thing to see all of them gathered together this way. Casteel didn't need bodyguards and his family was yet to return home from their trip. It was just him and that little shit Sebastian in the house.
"Why are you all standing here? Go on, have fun!" he urged but the insolent shits didn't move from their posts. "No guarding needed, remember? It's Casteel's mansion. No one dares to enter Casteel's mansion."
"Boss—" Declan started, Casteel too drunk to hear him.
"Go on, have some drinks. Treats on me. Tonight, the entire household will feast!" He fished into his breast pocket and retrieved his credit card, slapping the little card across old Declan's chest. "Here, take my card. It has more money than you've ever seen."
"Boss—"
Declan's countenance quickly lost all color as he spotted something behind Casteel.
"Casteel?"
The voice, spoken in a deep, rumbling tone that could belong to just one person raised the hair on Casteel's nape. He met Declan's gaze, his jaw clenching tight.
They were home. It wasn't just him and Sebastian (that little shit) anymore.
He turned cautiously, hiding the half-drunk cheap wine bottle behind his back.
There in front of him stood Alexander Lorenzo, his older brother of thirty-five with hair growing grey as early as they do and his piercing blue eyes glaring upon Casteel.
His brother stood at the same height as Casteel himself but there was an aura surrounding the Don of the Syndicate which made the ground shake beneath the feet of the one his glare was directed upon.
Alexander was dressed in his nightclothes—a pair of light pants and a T-shirt, accompanied by a robe thrown over the ensemble. To Casteel, he appeared older, even older than he was.
"Xander..." Casteel gulped, his voice hoarse from his stupor. "When did you come home?"
Alexander stepped closer, his eyes drilling holes into Casteel's head. "What have you done, Casteel? Didn't I tell you to leave that girl alone? Do you realize what has happened?"
He was puzzled by the questions. What was Xander talking about? It had been two months since the drama with that girl—Tasha, Tara—fuck...why couldn't he remember her name?
"What?"
Alexander seized the collar of Casteel's shirt, his grip strong enough to drag his younger brother with him,
"Come here, idiota," he cursed, hauling Casteel to the direction of a corridor, at the end of which stood the guest room.
Casteel didn't protest as he let his brother pull him harshly, nearly tearing his shirt off. Alexander threw the double doors of the guestroom open, nearly tripping Casteel over as he dragged him into the room, past the sitting area, past the bathroom to the bed chamber.
Casteel's eyes widened in disbelief as he spotted the troublesome Sebastian in the bed, surrounded by white sheets.
His little brother had his left leg in complete wrap, propped on a pillow. Sebastian stared at a wall, ignoring Casteel as he watched a football game playing on TV.
Football
It was Sebastian's final game tomorrow. He was supposed to play as the team captain—
"Look—look what he has done to him," Alexander yelled, letting go of his collar and fuming from his ears.
Casteel studied his little brother's condition, unable to believe what he was seeing. There were hardly ever things that took him off guard.
"Sebastian...who—"
"It's finals tomorrow," his brother cut him off from the hard-brought concern that brewed in his chest. "He ruined my whole career."
"Who?"
"Why don't you see for yourself?" Alexander interrupted. Casteel watched as he walked over to the TV and plucked out a small object from behind the device. He threw it over to Casteel who caught it before it could crash against the wall. "A gift—for you, Casteel Lorenzo."
The pen drive was a little, black object which didn't seem to hold much importance. Yet, the way his brothers looked at him, Casteel knew that whatever it held was of the utmost importance.
He clutched the pen drive within his fist, turning to Sebastian slowly. "Sebastian, you'll be okay."
"Fuck you," his little brother grumbled, switching off the TV and going back to lie down, his hazel eyes cast at the ceiling.
Casteel glanced at Alexander who had turned his back on him too, his shoulders tensed as he sucked in an audible sigh.
"Get out of here, Casteel," his older brother ordered.
"Sí," Casteel murmured, not glancing back as he walked away.
***
The pen drive was indeed of importance, although it didn't seem that way at first.
It was a video that opened with a scene with a white couch placed before a window where the afternoon sun beat down. The place was the interior of a home or a hotel, Casteel couldn't make out. A piece of cake was placed across the camera on a plate, a spoon on top. It was dripping with chocolate crumbs.
The time of the video passed. Casteel grew impatient, almost getting ready to turn it off when at the end of 4 minutes 49 seconds, a shadow appeared, followed by a man coming to sit on the couch.
The man was Reece Pierce.
How the fuck he looked so perfect after he had been in a coma with how messed up Casteel's soldati had made him?
Reece took his time, not even glancing at the camera as he took off his suit and rolled the sleeves of his shirt.
There were no tattoos. He had tattoos, right? Casteel remembered that vividly.
"Pardon me, I happened to be running late," Reece began but not before he had picked up the cake and taken a large scoop from the spoon. "I'm not as free as you. My time is precious."
"What in the—" Casteel started but the man shook his head as if he could almost hear his thoughts.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not Reece," the man who was not Reece said. "My name's Ryan. I'm the evil twin. But I think you know that by now."
Casteel remembered hearing something about a twin being at the hospital. He didn't realize they would look exactly the same. The resemblance was uncanny. Still, this man had an air of arrogance Casteel was accustomed to seeing in the mirror every day.
He hated that look on anyone else who was not him.
"I hope you liked my gift. Broke my heart to do that but you know what they say—an eye for an eye. A brother for a brother." The man smiled and the picture became clearer. He had been the one behind Sebastian's broken leg. He was the reason his little shit of a brother won't play for the finals tomorrow, probably won't be playing ever. "Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty emotional. I never harm children but your brother, he's twenty so not exactly a child. Oh...the way he cried when my men smashed that player leg..."
Ryan closed his eyes like he was replaying a scene of perfect pleasure. When he opened them, the blue in his pupils glinted mischievously. "I told them to go easy on him but...his screams were beautiful, they said. You thought the same of my brother's screams, right?"
Casteel had loved hearing Reece's cries of pain. But he didn't love the fact that someone else could know that too, could go that deep in his brain. He almost felt like his privacy was being breached—that Ryan Pierce had his hand deep in Casteel's brain and was toying with the parts.
"Look, Casteel...weird name by the way..." the guy on the screen snickered at his joke. "I understand you must be thinking of retaliation but here's my advice—don't."
The playfulness dropped, the tone lowering to a certain level of seriousness as Ryan looked straight at the camera, and in doing so, he appeared to be looking starlight at Casteel—exposing all the secrets he tried to hide.
"You've no idea who you'd be messing up with, Lorenzo. I know everything about you now—your occupation, your lies, your dirty little secrets...everything. So, here's my proposal instead—let's call a truce." He spread his arms like the idea delighted him. "You avoid retaliation and I'll forget the mess you made of my brother. We're even now so let's keep it at that, okay?"
As he continued, he was interrupted by a louder feminine voice coming from afar.
"Ryan, it's time for the family photo."
"Coming, baby," Ryan answered. Baby. It must be the wife—the best friend of the girl he can't remember. Ryan looked back at the camera, slapping his thighs. "Okay, so that's my cue. I hope you keep my words in mind. You'd hate to make an enemy of me, Casteel. We'd be much better as allies. Think about it. Bye."
The screen cut to black not a second after that word, leaving the faint echoes of Ryan's words behind.
Casteel let his thoughts wander for a while. He leaned forward, hands clasped, watching the blank screen intently. The soldati around him, particularly Declan, knew Casteel was thinking about something but no one knew what he was thinking of.
Finally, Casteel rose from the couch, facing Declan.
"That one is a psycho, isn't he?" he remarked casually.
Declan blinked, his face crossing various levels of confusion. The look was funny on him. It didn't suit his aged face which otherwise spoke of wisdom.
"You think he's a psycho?" Declan repeated, sounding strained.
"Yeah." Casteel frowned. "Why?"
"Nothing." Declan's entire body gave a jittering shiver unsuited for a soldati of his station. "It's just new. Do you want us to kill him?"
"Oh no, he's useful. I like having powerful allies."
Casteel waved a dismissive hand, moving towards the wine cabinet stocked neatly on a three-line shelf. He picked up his favorite wine, poured himself a generous glass, and swallowed an even more generous gulp.
"But he destroyed your brother's career," Declan reminded him. "Sebastian won't ever play football again."
"Sebastian needed to be taken down a notch. He had been so full of himself." Casteel drained the entire glass down, the bitter taste not able to erase the blondie's taste from his tongue. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned against the cabinet as he stood across Declan in the small room, dimly lit by the flames from the fireplace. "Forget him, do this—send Ryan Pierce an apology letter with a lovely bouquet for his wife."
Declan looked like he had been asked to solve calculus by someone who knew he had never been to school.
"And?"
"And tell him that Casteel accepts being allies with him. I like his hunger for revenge. It'll serve me well in the future."
And why wouldn't it? Powerful allies were necessary. They made one even more powerful. He would be stupid to deny Ryan Pierce's proposal.
"There's no way of understanding you, is there?"
"Why would you try to understand me? Get a life."
"Mi dispiace, signor. You're indeed in a good mood tonight."
"It's the girl." His grin came back up in full form, the memory of her fresh as morning dew. "She was a stunning fuck."
"Was she pretty?"
"Oh very..."
"That's good. You need someone to focus on after Signorina Holland. Will you go on another date?"
Holland. Tatia Holland. That was the girl's name. How could he forget?
"Huh...what?" He remembered what he had just heard just as Declan opened his mouth to repeat. "Date? Me? Nah...she's just a one-night stand. I don't do dates."
"Oh...mi dispiace," Declan said politely, then his glance dropped lower and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. "Signor, where is your chain?"
"What?"
"The chain with the microfilm that you carry with you as a pendant. The one you didn't trust us to keep safe as it contains data which would bring down the famiglia if it fell into the wrong hands."
Casteel touched his neck, "It's right he—" His hand landed on his skin—no chain hung around it. He looked down, finding his neck blank. "Cazzo...oh fuck!"
He roamed his hands through his whole body, wondering where he had dropped it before he recalled that it was a piece that could only be cut open. It had no hook. It wouldn't have just dropped somewhere.
"What happened, signor?"
Warning bells rang in Casteel's ears. He remembered the girl—the blondie with grey eyes, how she kept touching the chain, asking him how pricy the piece was. Casteel has been too occupied by her beauty to stop himself from sharing how priceless it was. She must have thought he was referring to the material.
The chain couldn't be unhooked but if someone came close, it could be cut open—especially when the girl he was fucking her had her arms around his neck.
"That girl...the one I fucked..." he whispered, already picturing Alexander's wrath if he discovered.
"Sí."
"I think she stole it."
Declan stared at him for seconds before a bubbling laugh slipped his lips. "That's very funny, signor. But por favor, keep the chain safe. It's very important."
"Declan," Casteel said gravely.
"Sí, Signor?"
"I'm not joking."
This time when Declan stared, he didn't laugh. It had finally hit him.
"Cazzo, what do we do now? If the Don finds out...Dio!" the soldier cried, the pitch strange in his voice. "It'll be catastrophic."
"No one's gonna find out. Tell the soldati to get ready to head to New York with me."
"Why, signor?"
Casteel watched the flames lick each other in the fireplace. The organ in his heart was pounding. It was the first time he had heard its sound. If the microfilm went into the wrong hands, the Syndicate would crumble, and worse than that—Casteel would be put on trial. Alexander had given the chip to him because he believed no one would cross Casteel. It was the only time his brother trusted him.
That girl had taken something from him that questioned everything he had built in all these years.
Everyone feared him.
Why didn't the girl fear him?
"We need to find her," he declared to the flames. "We need to find that Melanie before she makes the poliziotti find us."
T H E E N D
—
• ending note •
throw some confetti!!
so this is where our journey ends, as well as a new one begins
Tatia and Reece were probably my most mature and vulnerable couple. I cried so many times writing their scenes and their love for each other is just so pure. I hope you had as much a good time as I did writing them
Book 3 is coming soon...
for those waiting, I'll be posting Casteel's story soon; I already have a title ready and it is oh so good...
I hope you enjoyed this story and would follow me to be updated on the next work in the series
honestly, how was the epilogue?
hooked you enough for Casteel's book?
let me know in the comments!
bye, loves
see you in another story 🤍