Page 9 of Wicked Union

Tito swipes his clothes off the ground and vanishes into the bathroom, and I can only lie here feeling ashamed of myself for letting my body have what it desires. I stare at the swirls in the textured ceiling and cover my face in shame. I'm supposed to hate him and find a way to keep his money so my father's businesses can stay afloat, while freeing myself from this contract. I know it's not what my family expects. They think I'm married and will be content being some man's slave, but if I didn't think there was a way for me to get out of this, I'd never have agreed.

I roll to my side and listen to the water run, Tito's shower steam already wafting into the bedroom. But my mind is now churning, plotting out how I will get him to break the clause of the agreement that hands us all his wealth with no strings attached and terminates the marriage. It's there, written in black and white, just as plainly as the words that bind me to obey whatever he asks of me or he owns the businesses into which he's pumped funds.

There's no way Dad read that whole contract and agreed to it. He had to have been so out of his mind with worry that he skipped parts. I know he'd never doom me to this life. I just have to read that contract and find the loophole. I'll walk away having secured the money from Tito's family and be done with this forever.

"Aria, round two…" Tito calls, and shame creeps into my thoughts at the sound of his voice. As much as I want to say no, I can't. He does own me, just like he said. And unfortunately, my pussy likes that. It's my heart that will be destroyed in this process.

8

TITO

The door to my den is cracked. I sit with my brother and two of my men around the low, glass coffee table that hosts our drinks and an ashtray for their cigars. We share a round of laughter at a joke Carlos tells and sip our whiskey. Tonight's meeting is essential for our business, though. It's not all just fun and games. The more I take over Dad's responsibilities, the more I see how hard the man really works, but work is always more enjoyable with a cold beverage.

"So, how about the arrangement?" Tony leans forward and rolls his cigar on the rim of the ash tray, dropping a load of ashes into the glass bottom, and Carlos tents his hands in front of himself, fingertips pressed together.

"We're meeting the buyer at our normal location, but we're pushing for twice the load this time." Carlos taps his index fingers together as he speaks. "Tito has some rich idea about making more money and taking more land." My brother isn't a fan of my business ventures at times, but I have Dad's approval to move forward with my plans.

"That's right," I tell them, confirming what Carlos already said. "We'll begin distribution as normal and flood the streets with our mix. Our customers will like what we provide more than they enjoy the sludge the Peraltas are shoveling out there, and we'll move deeper into their territory."

As I pick up my glass tumbler to have a sip of my drink, I notice movement in the hallway. I can't make out any distinct details, but a shadow passes by the door and it intrigues me. I stand and sip my whiskey as I move toward the door, and the shadow is gone. When I look out, I see nothing, as if only a ghost were here eavesdropping, but the only people in this house to listen in are Aria and my maid.

Puzzled, I turn and head back to the stiff wooden chair, still warm from my body. I notice Carlos seems fidgety tonight too, irritable over something. His eyes dart around at the men, and I make a mental note to speak with him about why he’s so jittery.

"You think Peralta is just going to let you walk into his territory and take over?" Sal scoffs at me and drops ashes into the ashtray from his cigar. The smoke floats upward toward the ceiling, probably staining it, but a meeting like this without the comradery of a shared cigar and glass of whiskey wouldn't be the same.

"No. I'm not a fool, Sal." I watch the amber liquid swirl in my glass and narrow my eyes at him. "Peralta isn't a fool either, so when our superior product begins to flood the same streets he services, he'll see that it's in his best interest to purchase his narcotics from our suppliers. It will be the only way he can compete with us, and we'll have him by the balls. It will start with price gouging, then cutting the supply with whatever we can find that will bring a shadow over his organization. He'll come crying for help."

Carlos's brow furrows, and now the shadow is over his eyes, not at my door. "That sounds like the long game, Tito. You know we can just walk in and take what we want, right?" He rolls his eyes and again scoffs at me, but I'm confident my plan will work.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, Brother. Anything worth doing is worth doing right. We'll take our time and in the end, we'll own it all." He has to know I'm serious about my way being respected. As of right now, he answers to our father, but soon, he will answer only to me. And if he can't fall in line and support my strategies, he may be looking for his own tribe. Blood or not, I won't tolerate disrespect or dissent.

"Hey, I think it sounds like a decent plan." Tony sucks on his cigar, making the cherry on the end light up. He coughs a little, and the smoke spurts from his mouth like a dragon's snort. "It's as simple as solution selling. We create the problem and they come to us for the answer. Business 101."

Tony and Sal will always be on board with anything I say because they understand the chain of command. Carlos will always rebel against everything I say because despite the chain of command, he believes himself the better leader for this family. He can't stand it that I'm older by fourteen months, making me the heir and him nothing. Oh, my father respects him and he's given Carlos a fair share of responsibility.

But the way he covets my authority is always visible, almost tangible. He challenges every thought I bring to the table, every order I give. I'll continue to humor him for now, but he isn't going to like me when I'm fully in charge. That much is clear.

"And what do you think we'll do when Peralta calls the bluff, goes to another source for his drugs?" Carlos leans forward and picks up his glass, downing the entire glass in one swallow."Because the way I see it, you fucked us by marrying into that family. They want to sap strength and money from us, and in the end, they'll be strong off our backs and we'll have another enemy."

His righteous indignation isn't far off the mark, but he's not looking at the big picture. We gain far more from this arrangement than the Peraltas. They are saved temporarily by an influx of money, but we have access to every single financial transaction that they make. We'll know them so well that even if the full ten years of this agreement plays out in a peaceful manner, they'll be brought to their knees in a heartbeat when it's over. I just don't see it lasting that long. I'll own it all long before then.

"Carlos, you have a lot to learn, which is why I'm in charge and you report to me." I finish my whiskey and stand. "Now, make sure the drop location is set and the time confirmed."

Tony stands with me, reaching across the table to shake my hand as Sal slowly clambers to his slightly drunken feet. "Second street warehouse, Tuesday at four," Tony says, and I nod.

"Then it's settled." I turn to Carlos, who still sits in his disrespect and hatred, glaring at me. "And we have our best men on it? Vinny and Tex?"

He raises and lowers his eyebrows in a single wag indicating he's done his job as ordered, and I clap my hands once and fold my fingers together. "Well, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'd like to find my beautiful new wife and see what she's up to this evening." Or more accurately, what she's been listening to. Something tells me it was her at my door eavesdropping on me, and I don't like that. Not with the sensitive topic we've been discussing.

I let myself out of the den, trusting they can show themselves out, and head upstairs. The bedroom door is open, and Aria isn't there, so I move on, toward the back of the house. Two guest rooms line the hall, followed by the fourth and largest room where I sometimes spend my mornings. My library door is open, and soft music vibrates out to meet me. The light glowing in the room reaches toward me as I open the door wider and see Aria curled up on the leather loveseat with a plush white blanket draped around her shoulders, book in hand.

"Find anything good to read in here?" I ask her, knowing the hundreds of books I have on these shelves will certainly entertain her for months on end. I walk toward the far wall of the small room and touch the leather bound cover of the first editionThe War of the Worlds, by H.G. Wells. Then I turn to her and see she hasn’t even looked up. She's engrossed in a thick volume of poetry by Hemmingway. It isn't a special edition, but it's a good book.

"I said, did you find anything good to read?" My questions never go unanswered, at least not with people who know me, so I give her the benefit of the doubt because she doesn’t know me or what I’m capable of.

Aria looks up at me dryly and holds the book up so I can see the cover, but I already know which book she has. It's a rude way of answering, but it's an answer.

"Were you downstairs a short time ago? Near my den?" I cock my head in curiosity as she pulls the book back down to her lap and lets her eyes skim over the pages. She says nothing for a second, as if preparing her response, but so nonchalantly that I'd never suspect a thing if I weren't suspicious.

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