The Mafia Lord And His Forbidden Princess (Book 2)

ROSALINE

Doomsday comes unannounced—that was something I believed in. Well, in my case, doomsday had a face and a herald with whom I shared blood.

My brother stood at the entrance of the banquet, talking to a tall man with dark hair and a tall stature. I knew who it was. Terenzio De Vitto. I had thought my life could not get any worse than knowing my stiletto had a broken heel at a wedding I had so dearly planned.

De Vitto was handsome, with sharp features and a lean-muscular body, like almost every Mafioso his age in the New York Cosa Nostra, but his attractiveness did not lessen my fear.

Just as Dom twisted his head to me, I scooted to one side of the hallway behind a thick pillar. My heart raced infuriatingly. I did not want my brother to do the introductions yet. I did not even want him to have me married yet.

“It was marriage, not the end of the word,” Dom had said. Except, what if it was? If it were up to me, I would never get married.

Most soldiers had nothing to be proud of, being in the lowest position in the syndicate, but my father wore it on his sleeves like some ornament. My brother, Domenico, was not any different. At least he had a proper reason.

Domenico Guerra was a name known to the whole of the underworld. He was not a soldier as he should have been. He had not inherited the title from our father. Instead, he became the Consigliere, the advisor, to Adonis Vitale, the Capo of the Vitale Crime Empire, because my brother was the only one Adonis trusted with his eyes closed. The Vitales were one of the two ruling families of the New York Cosa Nostra, which was a tremendous deal.

Dom and Adonis had been extremely protective of me since Papa’s tragic death. While I loved the way they coddled me, it was only to a certain limit.

As a teenager trapped inside the four walls of a giant mansion, protected by my father and his hordes of men who did not even dare look at me, I had wanted nothing more than freedom, which my brother had given me… but it seemed like my years of freedom was over.

Dom appeared next to me, his hand stuffed into his pockets and a judgemental look over his icy expression. I scanned his sides and peered my head out to look at the entrance.

Empty.

Terenzio was gone.

That was even worse. What if I accidentally came across him and panicked?

“Where did he go?”

Dom let out a sigh. “I sent him to the garden with Danilo to find his seat.” He shook his head in disappointment. “You’re hiding like an inmate… from a man who would be your husband.”

“Could, not would.”

He grasped my hand and yanked me around as I tried to walk away. “Why are you hiding from him? I’ve never seen you scared of a man, not even twice De Vitto’s size. Marriage is not the end of the world.”

Fifteen. He had said this fifteen times in two days. “If you say this one more time, I swear to God, I’ll end your world,” I snapped. “And I’m not scared of him.”

“No, you’re not scared of him. You’re just hell-bent on pissing me off,” he grumbled. “I don’t see what’s wrong with giving him a chance. I talked to him about what Bella suggested.”

“And?”

“And he agreed.”

My eyes widened. When Bella, Adonis’s to-be-wife in a few hours, had suggested the whole ‘going out and getting to know each other before marriage’ scheme, I had been sure Terenzio would reject it, which was why I had agreed to it. He was Terenzio De Vitto, the Underboss of Washington. He had better things to do than court a woman he had never met.

“He’ll put in his effort, despite his busy schedule, and take you out on however many dates you like.” Before I could speak, he chided, “Dates, that’s what they’ll be. You’ll have a curfew.”

I cocked a brow. “What am I, five?”

“No. But you’re my sister.”

I glanced at the door to the bridal suite as Bella stepped out in her wedding gown with her brother, Matteo Rossi, who was also a Capo as Adonis. We were in his territory, within the boundaries of the Chicago Outfit.

Giving my brother one last glance, I trudged toward Bella in my strapped stilettos-turned-flat, since I had broken the other heel as well, holding the pleated drop of my peach-coloured dress. Bella’s eyes fell on me and she asked, “You’re here? I thought you were looking for Fabi.”

“Didn’t make it that far. Trouble in Paradise.”

Holding her breath, she muttered, “I’m thinking about running. Want to join?”

“Running from Adonis?” I snorted, seeing her nod. “Good luck on that, seeing as you won’t be able to make it past New York,” I gave Matteo a look, “or Chicago.”

“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes.

Matteo paced forward to talk to Dom, leaving Bella and me barely out of earshot. They, no doubt, were talking about the De Lucas, the ones being monitored all evening, so they could not make a mess of the event I had planned.

Turning back to Bella, I questioned with a pouty face, “Would it piss you off if I snuck out of your wedding?”

She knitted her brows together. “Yes, I’ll be pissed. Furious. Enraged. And why would you even ask that?”

I lowered my voice and explained, “De Vitto is here and I... I don’t want to see him yet. I’m not ready.”

I knew she would understand my situation. She and I were almost close to age, and the world we belonged to did not idolise an unmarried woman over the age of twenty. We both were way past that. I was twenty-four, and she was twenty-six. Only, she would be married in a few hours, and then it would be me, the only spinster amid traditionalists. Again.

Bella’s eyes softened. “At least stay until the vows are over. That’s all I’ll ask as a friend.”

“You’re incredibly good at blackmailing people with those puppy eyes,” I said. “Fine, I’ll stay, but as soon as the vows are over, I’m out. Don’t tell my brother where I went, though.”

“Where will you go? As far as I know, you don’t know Chicago that well.”

She was right. This was not home. This was, according to my mop-headed brother, the enemy territory and no matter how many peace treaties were signed between us and the Outfit, it would always be that.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably just go back to the Di Falco mansion.”

“The mansion has been locked for tonight. No one’s going there.”

I slammed my hands on my forehead. Of course, no one would be there. The wedding would go on till midnight with the dance, dinner, and all that. The banquet halls had rooms that had been opened for the stay of our guests.

“If you were me, you wouldn’t want to stay here for Dom to come every five minutes to drag your ass down.”

Dom and Matteo returned to us and Dom quickly asked, “Whose ass?”

“No one. Stop eavesdropping, creep.” I walked back to the venue, not interested in quarrelling with Dom. He had to understand my need for space from him, given all the emotions I had been feeling. I scanned the area, only to find De Vitto seated in the fifth row of the aisle on the groom’s side.

I did not want to face him just yet; maybe I would not have to if I was lucky enough.

***

LUCIANO

My stomach knotted as I watched Adonis and Isobel—my Belle—taking their marriage vows. Then they kissed. I could feel nothing but anger and nausea at the sight. As many around me suspected, it had little to do with the fact that she was once mine, should have been mine, but was being given to someone else. No. She had chosen Vitale over me, which stung me more than anything else did.

Vitale was a bastard among many others, and New York Cosa Nostra was not a place for a woman like her—a woman not bound by traditions or rules. She would grow to hate her life eventually because from what I could tell, she loved her freedom too much for the Vitale Empire’s fucked up rules to trap her.

I would have killed a handful of men this instant if it had not been for my brother forcing me down on my seat. Pietro’s hands were close to his gun, not to cause a scene or start chaos, but to shoot me if I got out of line.

When the cake-cutting ceremony began, I wanted to grab a good bottle of imported whiskey and disappear, seeing the women cast their pitiful gazes and the men’s scornful looks toward me. Pietro’s teeth gritting made me… behave.

Sometimes I forgot I was the older one.

Until I became Capo, I was a complete mess—reckless and promiscuous. The latter stayed the same, even after I had claimed the position, but my recklessness had been long gone. Pietro was the smart, the calm one—the brother who was always Ma’s favourite. People viewed us equally, but I enjoyed keeping my distance from people unless it was on a more intimate level.

The sun had set and dusk was long gone when I finally decided I could not do it anymore. I scurried up to the terrace of the building, my body aching from so much rigidity. And of-fucking-course, Pietro followed me, like a pain in my ass.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked. I often wondered how he remained so calm, even when he was freaked out or angry.

I scowled at him. “What do you think? I’m getting some air.”

“You’re not leaving this party, brother,” he said with a hint of warning. “We will stay the night and leave tomorrow like every other man. Got it?”

“Have you perhaps forgotten I’m your Capo?”

He shook his head, his brows forming a straight line. “How can I ever forget that? But you asked me to accompany you to this wedding to keep your head straight. This is me doing exactly what you’ve asked of me. We don’t want Vitale or Rossi to think this wedding affects you.”

“Well, sorry to inform you, it does affect me and they know it. The invitation was nothing but their way of mocking me.” They had surely had a good laugh behind my back. I pulled a cigar out of my pocket and lit it with the lighter before turning back to Pietro.

“I need some fucking air and a few minutes without your head up my arse. Be a sweet little brother and let me?” I pointed at the door.

He gave me a side glance and said, “Just don’t lose your shit,” before disappearing through it.

Pietro had to understand I needed space. The woman I had spent years desiring, and… now, hating had gotten married right before my eyes—had been secretly married for the past eight years.

We would have been married for that long now if she had not disappeared like that. I would have cherished her, kept her as she willed. Did she perhaps think I was a controlling, manipulative bastard as the entire fucking world did? In that case, I could not blame her.

She had left me for a man who was nothing better than I was, and yet, according to her, he was ‘different’. Different how? He was the Capo of Cosa Nostra like I was the Capo of 'Ndrangheta. Adonis Vitale ruled most of New York alongside his rivals, the Illianos, while I ruled the entirety of Canada. We were both territorial men. We were both Mafia lords. I did not understand any part of Belle’s logic.

Who should I have blamed for this mess, though? Her mother, who had solely left the mafia world with her daughters because of family politics? Her dead father for dying and leaving them with a fate far worse than death? Godfather Rossi, who had allowed his daughter and granddaughters to flee in the first place? The Camorra for killing Belle’s father and starting the war? Or myself for never letting Belle see the real side of me?

“Well, that was intense,” a voice sounded.

I furrowed my brows and looked around the terrace. My eyes paused at a shadowy figure on the top terrace. Only the soft lights from around the building and the stars silhouetted her face, but her blonde hair shone even in the dark. She looked down at me, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

I was certain I had seen her before, but I could not remember where. I looked down at the gate and then up at her. “How the hell did you get up there?”

“Climbed up.”

From the deep cut of her collar and the spaghetti straps, it was clear what she was wearing. “In that dress?”

“Never seen a woman climb in a dress?”

The hint of playfulness in her voice drew my attention. “Not in this lifetime.” The cigar remained between my thumb and forefinger, unsmoked, while I tried to make more of her features. She was slender and her long neck was probably the sexiest thing about her, the curve an absolute perfection.

“Well, nothing’s impossible, and certainly not for a woman.” She shrugged.

“Hm.” I took a long puff of the cigar and asked, “You’re hiding from someone, aren’t you?” She remained quiet and looked down at the venue. “I’ll take that as a yes.” There was no answer from her side again. “From whom?”

“That’s personal. I’d rather not tell.”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” It was a fair exchange. Except…

“I’ll make a wild guess on yours. You’re the man attending your ex’s wedding with your brother as a plus one.” My smirk dropped at her words and my lips tightened. She went on, “Mine’s not as severe as yours, but I would rather keep my embarrassment to myself and not make others feel the need to pity me.”

Regarding her with a keen expression, I blurted, “In that case, how do I get up?”