Nero nods and leaves the interrogation room to make the call. I grab a towel and do my best to wipe my hands clean of Joshua’s blood so that I don’t leave bloody fingerprints all over the house once I head upstairs.
We have guests coming. My whole family is probably arriving upstairs right now, and while showing up with blood on my hands would certainly send a message to those who’ve questioned my judgment in the last few days, tonight is not the place or time.
Everyone is eager to get a glimpse of the woman I’m supposed to marry.
Especially since until two nights ago, they thought I’d be marrying her sister.
“Messero.” Joshua’s voice is no more than a low rasp. “Not everyone is as lucky as you. Your father croaked all on his own. Some of us have to take our fate into our own hands if we ever want to get to the top.”
I crack my neck. My father would have preferred it if I’d been the one who ended him. He loathed dying slowly, rotting like a vegetable in his bed while his kingdom slowly slipped through his fingers. In his last few days, he begged me to do it. To end his pain.
I smiled at him and repeated a line I’d heard him say very often. We can’t rely on anyone to save us but ourselves.
“You got impatient.” I throw the towel to the ground. “The plan you concocted was sloppy.”
Joshua shakes his head. “I was tired of sitting on the sidelines. I deserve more.”
Entitled piece of shit. I lean forward until we’re face-to-face. “You deserve nothing until you learn to not be a slave to your emotions.”
Joshua lets out a pained moan and starts mumbling something, but I’m done with this conversation. I turn away from him and head for the door.
I exit the room and lock the door behind me. Nero’s standing just outside, making the necessary arrangements over the phone. The hallway has low ceilings, so he has to hunch slightly to make his six-five frame fit. He glances at me and gives me a nod. There’s no need for me to stick around to make sure Nero carries out my orders. There aren’t many men I trust completely, but my consigliere is one of them.
I’m about to take the stairs when Nero calls out my name.
I glance over my shoulder. “What is it?”
Nero presses his palm over the phone’s receiver. “You sure about this?”
He’s not talking about Conor.
He’s also not the first person to ask me that question over the last few days.
I’m a man who likes to be in total control, and yet I’m about to marry a famously uncontrollable woman.
Cleo Garzolo has done everything in her power to make herself unattractive as a marriage prospect, including lying about losing her virginity to some kid. A lie that will hang over me until I display our bloody wedding sheets as proof that she was pure.
She’s erratic, has no sense of self-preservation, and drinks enough to qualify as a barely functioning alcoholic.
It’s understandable why my very traditional Italian family disapproves of her.
When Gemma, the Garzolo sister I was originally supposed to marry, said she was pregnant and that Cleo was willing to take her place instead, I agreed to the outrageous proposition before I even realized the words were out of my mouth. On paper, Gemma was the perfect woman to marry. But for some fucking reason, I found myself looking at Cleo whenever I was supposed to be looking at her sister.
“I’m collecting the payment Garzolo owes me.”
Nero snorts. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Watch it.”
“You wanted that girl long before she got served to you on a silver platter.”
I give him a warning look. Nero’s been by my side for nearly a decade, and he’s the closest friend I’ve got, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s my subordinate. We’re close, but not so close that I’d ever jeopardize my duty as don—to do whatever it takes to protect and grow my family’s power—for his sake.
That duty is why I’m marrying in the first place.
“Stefano Garzolo bargained his family away to stay out of jail. I can either get what he owes me through force, or I can marry his daughter. The latter is the logical choice for more than one reason. It avoids bloodshed. It also gets me a wife. At my age, I need one.”
Nero looks amused. “Right. Very logical. Tell me, what’s the logic behind all the times I’ve caught you staring at her tits?”
I purse my lips. Sometimes I forget how observant my consigliere can be. “She’s a beautiful woman, and I’ll enjoy having her in my bed,” I say dismissively.
“She’s not just beautiful, is she? She’s unhinged. And yet, you still said yes to marrying her. All that for a lay who’ll likely try to bite your cock off on your wedding night.” He barks out a laugh.
“She won’t bite anything off.”
“She’ll drive you fucking insane with her behavior.”
“Most of her misbehavior was aimed at avoiding marriage. She failed. Why would she continue to act out after she’s married to me?”
“Don’t think she’ll see it that way. She’s not pure logic like you are. She’s marrying you because of her sister, not because she likes you, and based on what we’ve seen of her, Cleo isn’t one to suffer in silence.”
I arch a brow. “Good to know you think she’ll suffer being married to me. How have you survived all these years by my side?”
“I often ask myself that question,” he says with a grin before his expression turns serious. “I’ve seen how she gets under your skin.”
Sometimes Nero overreaches. Nothing gets under my skin. Unlike Joshua, I’m not ruled by my emotions. My own father made sure of that.
I fold my arms over my chest. “You know what does get under my skin? My consigliere doubting me.”
Nero laughs. “I’m just trying to do my job and watch out for you. Keep an eye on your drink. She might try to slip poison in it.”
“You think she can conjure some out of thin air?” She doesn’t have access to anything remotely dangerous in the bedroom I’ve kept her in.
“If I had to bet on any woman being a witch, it would be Cleo Garzolo.”
“You overestimate her.” I turn away from him and head for the stairs.
“I think you’re making a big mistake by underestimating her,” he calls out after me.
I shake my head. Cleo’s erratic behavior is a product of her father’s incompetence. Stefano Garzolo is a fool. Cleo must have sensed his weakness and exploited it.
But there’s no weakness to sense in me.
I’ll give it a week before she falls in line.
CHAPTER 4
RAFAELE
Bloody water runs down the white ceramic sink in the bathroom attached to my office. I didn’t think Joshua would hold out as long as he did. He’s a civilian, not used to violence, but greed is a powerful motivator for weak men like him. I scrub my forearms clean, dry my hands on a towel, and go to sit at my desk.