Page 9 of Now and Forever

Six months from now.

There it was. My wedding day was set in a place I’d never been to a man I’d never met.

“Thank you, Cat,” Papá said as he stood. “I’m sure your guests are waiting for you.” He smiled. “Let’s keep the engagement announcement under wraps until you have a ring.”

Not a problem.

“I won’t say a word.”

ChapterThree

Dario

“The cartel girl is being told of the marriage,” Vincent Luciano, my father, said as he stared at me from across his desk. It was an ostentatious antique monstrosity in his home office within his mansion in the Ozarks. Tommaso Moretti, his consigliere, stood behind and to the side of his chair, where he’d been for most of my life—the hand to the throne.

This house was my father’s castle and unnecessarily huge. Hell, guarding it took more of our soldiers off the street than I thought necessary. It took a lot of men to watch over hundreds of acres of land, a massive home, and a capo who was hated and feared by the people he ruled and those he didn’t.

This wasn’t my father’s only residence. He also had an apartment in Kansas City, not far from mine. If I recalled correctly, my mother hadn’t stepped foot in the palatial apartment for at least fifteen years, not since she walked in on my father and the other lady-of-the-house—his mistress, Alesia Moretti, Tommaso’s sister.

My father had a thing for women with names that started with ‘A.’ My mother’s name was Arianna. I wouldn’t supply a lewd observation of my mother; however, if Alesia was the gauge, he also had a thing for big boobs, plastic features, and women he could dominate.

Being that Alesia was the sister of Father’s consigliere, my brother and I thought she had her heart set on dropping the Moretti for Luciano. It seemed as if both women were a glutton for the hell of Father’s presence. After witnessing his affair, instead of divorcing our father, our mother doubled down, insisting on renovations at the Ozark mansion. The cost to placate her came close to a million dollars. She blatantly declared the whore could have the apartment. As wife, she would be the queen with a palace. These few facts about my father made it laughable that he was lecturing me on marriage.

“Thegirl,” I repeated. “She’s a woman.”

Twenty-three years old. Not exactly aged but not a child.

My father huffed. “You’re protective of her already. You always had a thing for strays.”

“She’s the daughter of a top lieutenant under Roríguez. She’s hardly a flea-ridden mutt found on the street.”

“You already had your time with one of those.”

The muscles of my jaw tightened, yet I worked to keep my appearance stoic. This was a fight I was tired of having. Besides, it no longer applied.

Dad waved his hand. “Fucking cartel.” He shook his head. “You might need to check her for fleas. You could have had your pick of good Italian virgins from any outfit in the country.” His beady dark eyes stared at me in a way that would cause half of his soldiers to wet themselves. “You fucked that up. If you think I’m going to hand the famiglia down to you… you have to earn it. Going through with this marriage is a start.”

His death glare had little effect. I’d seen it daily for all my thirty-five years. And when it came to becoming capo, I had earned it. I killed my first man at thirteen years of age—slit his throat in front of an audience of Father’s soldiers. You don’t get the nicknameThe Bladefor only one kill. If spilling blood alone was required of a capo, I’d spilled my quota. It wasn’t. There was more. Since before I was eighteen, I’d done my father’s bidding with legal and illegal connections. Hell, I’d been the one to initiate the alliance with Jorge Roríguez.

I kept my expression unreadable and my voice even. “Catalina Ruiz is beautiful. She’s lived a privileged life and is finishing her degree. If you want to insinuate that marrying her is a punishment, it’s one I willingly take.”

Father scrunched his nose as if he tasted something sour. “Obviously, you’ve never had a high bar when it comes to women in your bed. At least she’s Catholic. Arianna is pacified by that.” He added, “And Jorge promises she’s pure.”

It was my turn to shake my head. The last generation was obsessed with unnecessary merits. I’d fucked my first whore at fourteen. Dear old Daddy was the one to arrange the initiation. If I was obsessed with virginity, I could have agreed to marry Catalina’s younger sister, Camila. I preferred women who were both legal and willing. Experience wasn’t a bad thing. Personally, the idea that the Roríguez cartel’s top boss had knowledge of Catalina’s sex life disgusted me more than her lack of virginity.

Father looked annoyed. “The capo earns the respect of his men.”

“And what does that have to do with taking my wife’s virginity?”

“It demonstrates your ability to take what is yours.”

“I’m respected.”

“The leader of the famiglia also must show stability. A wife gives you that.”

Standing, I turned away and looked toward the window. A light dusting of snow covered the manicured lawns. “I’ve said I’ll marry her.” I spun toward him. “The alliance was my idea.”

Marrying a good Italian girl was never on my list of things to do. Marriage was a legal bond, nothing more. I’d been given that example my entire life. Father’s fidelity was to the outfit, the famiglia, not to his wife or his mistress.

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