Page 10 of Now and Forever

While there was a time when I considered walking away from the famiglia, longing for a normal existence, circumstances changed. As the eldest son of Vincent Luciano, taking over as capo of the Kansas City Famiglia was what I’d been raised to do. I’d put in my time and was ready to take the reins. I had other ideas for the future beyond partnering with the Roríguez cartel.

Over the last ten years, Vincent Luciano had become rigid in his ways. Times and situations changed. We were no longer the only organization in contention. To up our game and our domination, we needed the alliance.

My father continued, “Roríguez will supply us with a new and steady source of product. Damn feds shut down the route through Florida.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen the details of the quantity and quality of product Roríguez can supply. This alliance will give us the upper hand we need over the damn Russians.” He looked over to Tommaso. “Tell Dario what you told me.”

Moretti was a weaselly short man with a yearning for power and the propensity to do whatever was necessary to be within its realm, hence the reason he would lick my father’s boots one minute and beat his wife the next. He recognized the value of Vincent Luciano’s blessing in our world while demonstrating his own power where he could.

“Roríguez promised fifty bales—one ton—upon word that the engagement is set.”

I did the math in my head. One ton, divided into fifty bales was forty-pound bales. Cocaine roughly amounted to $39,000 per pound, making each bale worth 1.56 million, times fifty equaled over 78 million.

“He’s handing over seventy-eight million in merchandise?”

Tommaso answered, “You’re talking street value. He’s asking for 20G per pound, a twenty-five percent discount because we will befamily.” He emphasized the word while simultaneously mocking it. “Jorge said once our soldiers get it on the streets, the clients will want more. He says his product is far and above what the Russians sell and better than our old supplier.”

The office door opened and Rocco Moretti, Tommaso’s son and my sister’s husband, entered. While he was taller than his father, he was no less slimy. His gaze was on me. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

“Of?”

“Marrying theputa.”

I stood, my height towering inches over his, and met Rocco chest to chest. “I think you meant to ask if I was going to marry Catalina Ruiz.”

“Same thing,” he said with a smirk.

With one hand, I unsheathed my knife and with the other, I reached for the front of Rocco’s shirt and twisted. His face reddened. As I placed the edge of the blade against his throat, sweat appeared on Rocco’s brow. Neither my father nor his said a word as I pulled him forward, bringing his nose to mine. “My wife will have respect, and it starts in this family.”

“Let him go,” my father commanded.

I twisted his shirt collar tighter before pushing him away. I’d as soon kill him except it wasn’t fair to Father’s housekeeper to have to clean the blood.

Rocco fell back, stumbling, yet staying on his feet. “Fuck, Dario.”

Why my sister agreed to marry this poor excuse for a human being was beyond me. She didn’t choose. Just as Catalina wasn’t choosing me.

Father’s voice tore me away from visions of my brother-in-law bleeding out on the carpet. “Rocco is accompanying us to California for your engagement.”

With a scowl, I turned to Rocco. “If you say or do anything to demean Catalina or her family, next time, I’ll slit your throat.”

ChapterFour

Catalina

Two weeks flew by faster than I wanted them to. I tried to stay busy, pretending my life wasn’t about to change, pretending I was stable, not a kite about to be lost to the wind. With my degree, I wanted to interview at the art galleries, playing on Mama’s sentimental thoughts of me pursuing my dream.

Papá agreed to the interviews with the stipulation that actually accepting a job would be up to Dario. After the first interview, I canceled the others. If my husband allowed me to work, it wouldn’t be in Southern California. It would be in Kansas City.

There wasn’t much more I knew about my future husband than I had the night of my party. Using Papá’s computer, I found a few pictures of him. If I were auditioning him for a Hollywood role, I could admit to his good looks. Dario was downright handsome in the way that made your eyes scan his features, from his black wavy hair to his dark eyes, his prominent cheekbones, and his chiseled jaw. There was something dangerous about his presence as he nicely filled out his dark suits. I wondered if I didn’t know he was in the Mafia if I would guess.

As far as information about the man himself, I had a difficult time finding out more about him than the basics. The Luciano family was prominent in Kansas City and beyond. Dario would be heir to a fortune. One article was about their mansion in the Ozarks. At least the photos gave me an idea about my wedding venue.

While Papá dealt with cartel restaurants and clubs, it seemed the Lucianos had similar establishments under their umbrella of businesses. If it was the same as the cartel’s venues, they were mostly legal and a means for other less legal activity: laundering money, prostitution, and drug sales.

Personal information on Dario Luciano was virtually impossible to find.

The few intriguing articles I found were purely speculation and observation—handsome, single, and wealthy.

With each passing day, I wondered if he’d been married before or why a thirty-five-year-old bachelor wasn’t married before now. Maybe he didn’t prefer women. That behavior was commonly accepted outside the criminal organizations. Within the cartel, it was an unacceptable weakness. I didn’t know about the Mafia, but I doubted there were many gay made men.

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