Page 3 of The Casella King

I can’t answer that yet.

How is a man supposed to mourn the death of his fatherandprepare for war?

No idea, I couldn’t tell you.

Haven’t had the chance to think about it yet. Not with all these people around me, suffocating me, and telling me I should marry as soon as I can, to secure the Casella line.

“Sorry for your loss, Mr Casella,” a tall man in a black suit with shades tells me as he shakes my hand. I don’t even know this man’s name, yet I know he’s been part of the Casella empirefor years and would give his life for any one of us. “Your father was a strong man. I’m sorry it happened this way.”

I nod my head in respect as the line of people give their condolences first to me, then to my mother, then to my younger brother, Nico.

After the service, Mother, Nico, and I sit in silence in the limousine as Henry drives us home to Chelsea. My mother is the first to speak, and what comes out of her mouth should shock me, but it doesn’t.

“I have someone lined up for you.” She places her hand on mine. “Don’t fight me on this. You know we need to secure our bloodline.”

I grit my teeth before I tell her to fuck off because I know she’s right, but that doesn’t mean I want to comply with the oldest tradition in the book.

Marrying someone I barely know to ensure the succession of our empire is archaic.

“Not now,” I tell her and look to Nico who is staring at his palms in his lap. “We need to gather the boys.” I feel the energy shift as he looks up at me, his brown eyes swirling with excitement. “I’ve got a plan.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that all day, brother.” A sinister smirk appears on his lips.

The house is filled with men dressed in black suits, some of them family, others not. Those who are standing turn to face me, and those who are sitting stand and turn my direction as I enter the large dining room with Nico by my side.

“Today, we buried my father.”

Their heads begin to bow as I speak.

“I’ve known some of you in this room since I was a little boy. A boy who followed his father anywhere he went. Some of you I haven’t known as long, but I have no doubt you would give your life for a Casella.” I notice one of them discreetly wipe a tear and shift his weight onto their other leg. “My father was a smart man, a strong man. He would want to be avenged.”

Their eyes meet mine as I continue.

“This is why you’re here. This is why you’ve been called on today.” I watch as the fire in their eyes ignites at the promise of bloodshed.

“Listen, and listen carefully when I say this.” I pull out my two guns from my holsters and lay them on the table. “Those motherfuckers will pay their debt in blood. Their sons will pay in interest, and we will take their homes down stone by stone if that’s what it takes to see them squirm before we set their entire empire alight and watch it go down in flames in the name of my father.” I watch as a couple of the men place their guns on the table beside mine.

“I will not stop until the Brayford family is on their knees before us.” I breathe as one by one, the rest of the men in the room lay their guns on the table, until it’s completely covered.

Nico places his hand on my shoulder as I watch the men in the room nod in acknowledgement at my speech, showing their unyielding support to the Casella family once again.

Showing their support to me.

“Ezra, may I have a word?” My mother enters the room, interrupting.

I sigh and exit the room with her and follow her into the large black marble kitchen.

“I’m in the middle of something right now, what is it?” I ask as I watch her, the skin beneath her eyes dark and sagging.

“Listen to me before you speak again,” she says, placing her palms on the kitchen bench between us. I nod and cross myarms. “Tomorrow there will be a wedding,” she explains, my heart pounding in my chest, ready to yell all sorts of profanities at her because she wouldn’t listen to me. “Calm down, this is notyourwedding. Your cousin Fernando will be getting married, and there will be a woman at the event who I want you to meet—your betrothed.”

I’m grateful for her, I am, but I truly despise this absurd tradition of an arranged marriage. I appreciate the way she is trying to skirt around the fact by having me meet her beforehand, but it changes nothing.

I consider my next words carefully, out of respect to my mother.

“If I meet her, will you stop constantly talking about it?” My voice is harsher than I mean it to be.

“As long as you accept this is something you must do for our family, yes,” she says.

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