Arranged Mafia Marriage

AxelContent bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

“You don’t seem too surprised to see us,” Seb comments.

“I didn’t make it hard for you to find me. I guess you could say, I counted on it,” I drawl.

Luca leans back in the chair behind my desk. He places one leg, then the other onto the surface. “Are you implying that you knew we’d come for you?”

“What I don’t understand is why you did it in the first place.” Massimo slides a book back into its place in the bookshelf, before he turns to face me. “If you wanted our attention, you had it already. And if you wanted to speak, we could have done it in Palermo.”

“You knew this was the first place we’d look for you; that’s why you are still here,” Seb states.

“You’re giving this stronzo too much credit,” Luca protests.

“Your security arrangements are impressive. Your men recognized us, but once we explained to them that we were technically family, they didn’t stop us,” Massimo murmurs.

I tilt my head.

“You briefed them to let us in?” Massimo rubs his jaw, “Motherfucker, you did, didn’t you?”

“I saw you on my security camera and told them to wave you on.” I pull up the security app on my phone and show it to them.

“Stocazzo!” Luca swears.

“I’ll be damned,” Seb says slowly.

I glance between them, “Would you like a drink?” I stalk over to the bar at the far side, then grab a bottle of whiskey and proceed to pour the liquid into four glasses.

Massimo walks over to stand next to me. Seb approaches me and flanks me on the other side. They each reach for a glass. I grab mine and the remaining one, then walk over to my desk and place it in front of Luca.

He folds his arms across his chest and ignores it. I turn, raise my glass in Massimo and Seb’s directions, before I down the alcohol.

Massimo and Seb follow suit.

“Good liquor.” Massimo turns and snatches up the bottle, then whistles. “Macallan’s forty-year-old, eh?”

“I like my whiskey.” I raise a shoulder.

Massimo pours more of the alcohol into his own glass, then tops up Seb’s, before walking over to pour more liquor into my glass.

“So,” he places the bottle on the desk behind me, “you going to tell us what this is about?”

“Where’s Michael?”

“He couldn’t come.” Seb scowls as he sips from his glass, “Karma wasn’t feeling well so he opted to stay behind.”

“Is she okay?”

“Is Theresa okay?” Luca shoots back.

“None of your business,” I say without turning around.

“Ah, but it is, stronzo.” He swings his legs off the desk and rises to his feet. “You made it our business when you pulled a gun on the Don and left with a woman who is under his protection.”

“I confess, I don’t see the logic in what you did.” Massimo scratches his chin. “Hell, you married her. If you had asked Michael, he would have let you both leave with his blessings.”

“And this way, I didn’t have to ask anyone.” I roll my shoulders. “I left with what’s mine.”

“After you threatened the Don in front of the entire town and in church.” Luca clicks his tongue, “Either you are very foolish or-”

“You have a plan,” Seb cuts in. “By drawing attention to us, and making us seem weak, you ensured that every single rival clan looked on this as the opportunity to go on the offensive against us.”

“In fact, you counted on it.” Massimo takes a sip from his glass. “You hoped we’d be so preoccupied by attacks it would take us time to regroup.”

“I had hoped it would land you in enough heat that it would delay your coming after me, yes.”

“Something which, clearly, didn’t work. As you can see,” Luca rounds the desk, grabs his glass and stands next to Massimo, “we are here to take the two of you back to Palermo.”

“And if I refuse?”

“This isn’t us asking,” Seb says in a mild tone. “We have come to accompany you back to the bosom of lafamiglia, whether it’s with your consent or not.”

“Oh?” I take a drink of my whiskey. “It really is good, isn’t it?” I tilt my head, “Although, it’s nothing like the one-hundred-year-old whiskey, which isn’t for consumption by the likes of you.”

“Likes of us?” Luca’s features darken. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s trying to get a rise out of you,” Massimo warns.

“Well, he’s succeeding,” Luca growls.

I turn to him, “You realize you are the vulnerable point in this entire family? The one who talks without thinking. Who shoots before he is ready to face the consequences of his actions.”

His features distort. The next second, he moves, but my gun is already in my hand. We aim our guns at each other.

“Cazzo,” Massimo scowls, “put ’em down, you stronzos.”

Neither Luca nor I move. We glare at each other. Luca’s jaw is hard. The skin around his eyes tightens. A nerve pops at his temple as he holds my gaze.

“Put down your guns,” Seb snaps. “Let’s talk this through without killing each other, shall we?”

“I don’t know, from where I am, a bullet in his thick, fat head seems like a better use of my time than trying to parlay.”

“You’re pushing your luck, you testa di cazzo,” Luca growls.

I allow my lips to curl in the semblance of a smile, “Like I said, you are the weak link in this chain. If there’s anyone who will bring down the Sovranos, it’s you, asshole.”

Luca’s lips firm; his fingers tighten on his trigger.

I laugh, “You going to shoot me, motherfucker?”

“I am fucking tempted,” Luca says in a hard voice.

Massimo glances between us, “Put down the guns, you coglioni.”

Luca winces.

“At some point, I am going to need a translation of the expressions you guys seem to bandy about with such alacrity,” I drawl.

“Stand down, both of you.” Seb scowls. “This is getting fucking tiring. Let’s talk like adults, so I can head back home.”

“What’s the hurry?” I shoot him a sideways glance, “Have someone waiting for you, eh?”

“None of your business,” he replies. “Are you guys going to stop acting like irresponsible facia di merda or what?”

“I know what merda means,” I mutter.

“Congratulations,” Luca snorts, “the only word you understood is the one that translates to shit. Figures.”

I eye him with scorn. “What are you, seven? If you are trying to insult me, you could, at least, come up with a better one than that.”

“How about fetente?” Luca scowls at me. “That’s an improvement, actually. You are more of a fetente than a pezzo di merda.”

“What the hell does fetente mean?”

“At least, your accent is good.” Massimo nods in my direction.

“Stinking pile of shit,” Luca offers helpfully.

“Like I said, your insults are immature.” I shake my head.

“Says the man who pulled the most juvenile stunt of the century.” Luca chortles.

“Fuck you, man,” I growl. I shouldn’t let his ribbing get to me, but damn, if I can’t feel the skin under my collar grow hot.

“Fuck me?” Luca laughs, “Fuck you, motherfucker.”

“So, you do know how to insult in English, eh?”

“Fuck,” Seb scowls between us, “lower your guns. Both of you. Right now.”

“First you,” I snap.

“First you,” Luca says at the same time.

“Gesu Cristo, clearly, Luca is not the only hot-headed one in the family anymore,” Seb growls.

Luca and I glare at each other for a few seconds, then both of us lower our guns at the same time.

I slide my gun back into my waistband, while Luca places his on the table.

He reaches for his drink, which he’d managed to place on the table at the same time that he’d drawn his gun, and I hadn’t even noticed. Bastard’s fast, I’ll give him that.

“Finally, fuck,” Seb rubs the back of his neck, “let’s talk like grown-ups, shall we?”

“On the contrary, let’s not,” a new voice sounds from the direction of the door.

I swing toward the door, then draw in a breath.

“Told you you’d regret throwing me out of your house.” He presses his gun into Theresa’s temple.

“Motherfucker,” I reach for my gun, but he shakes his head.

“Touch your gun and she dies.”

My heart rate ratchets up. My pulse pounds at my temple. A bead of sweat trails down my temple as I take in her features. Her color is pale, her hair flowing about her shoulders. She’s wearing the same shirt that I pulled off her earlier. Thankfully, she’s also wearing my boxer briefs under it. She swallows but gives no other sign of being nervous. I hold her gaze and try to communicate my strength to her. I must succeed, for she jerks her chin in a slight gesture.

Behind me, I sense Luca reach for his gun, but Freddie shoots at the table. Chips of wood fly out and Luca swears.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” Freddie jerks his chin in Luca’s direction. “And that goes for you too,” he narrows his gaze on me.

I hesitate, and he must push his gun into Theresa’s temple, for she makes a small sound at the back of her throat. My chest tightens. Adrenaline laces my blood. How dare he put his hands on her? How dare he hold a gun to her? How dare he walk into my house and touch my wife? Anger floods my blood. My vision tunnels. The blood pumps so hard that I can hear each beat of my heart in my ears.

“Axe,” Seb’s voice cuts through the noise in my head, “don’t,” he growls.

I swallow down the fear that bubbles up my throat, then raise my hands.

“Good,” Freddie smiles, “now we talk.”