Page 237 of Merciless Desires

“Tell me where he is,” Papà commanded around the cigarette in his mouth.

Dmitriev just laughed and spat blood from his now-toothless mouth onto the concrete floor at my papà’s feet. “Fuck. You.”

“So you do speak,” Papà mused. “Then you might still have some use yet.”

With a snap of his fingers, made men Calbresi and Neri appeared and began beating Dmitriev until he was unconscious. They then carried him away to rot in one of the cells until Papà was ready to question him again.

“You are distracted,” Papà stated, not even bothering to look at me. He lit another cigarette, the flame from his lighter illuminating his weathered face. “Why, figlio?”

“I am not distracted, Papà.”

Vittore Cortese stood and tucked his lighter into the pocket of his dark grey slacks. He turned to me and nodded once. “You are, Matteo.”

I slowly exhaled. “I have a wife.”

Papà’s eyebrows raised. “I must have missed the invitation to your wedding.”

“It hasn’t happened yet.”

He breathed a chuckle. “So…you have asked a woman to marry you. Who?”

That was the question I was dreading. Papà had been using my eligibility as leverage, a weapon to use against families who disobeyed, or families he believed would be beneficial to form alliances with. He wanted me to marry the daughter of a powerful family. A rival family.

Not the daughter of one of our associates.

“Moretti,” I began. “Marcella Moretti.”

Papà crossed the room toward me and offered me a cigarette. I accepted and leaned forward when he held his lighter toward me.

“That name is not important enough to be familiar.”

“Her papà works for us.”

As the words left my mouth, I knew they were a mistake. I couldn’t lie about Moretti’s allegiance to us. My papà would have figured it out soon enough, and as much as I would rather that he heard it from me, I would have preferred he not hear it at all.

“You are marrying…down?”

“I am marrying,” I corrected, taking a drag from my cigarette. “That is what you asked of me.”

“I would have expected you to know better than to marry down, Matteo.”

“You did not specify my wife needed to be established in any sense of the word.”

Papà shook his head. “Always pushing, Matteo. That will not serve you will if you are in my place.”

If.

Not when. If.

Che stronzo.

“So, when is the engagement party? Do I get an invite to this one?”

I sighed. Announcing our engagement to our associates was one thing, but this would be different. The news could get out to the wrong people…like Dominov.

“Saturday. Will your newest wife be joining us?”

He ignored me and blotted his cigarette out on the table next to my hand. “Don’t let this woman be a distraction. Could get you killed, figlio.”

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