When Caterina Mari Santelli--daughter of a Capo--was born, she became a living curse. It was against the Italian mob to fraternize with the Russian enemy. And when her father decided to marry her late Russian mother, their family was walking on a thread in the Mafia industry. So, here comes Lucas De Marchi--a Boss--pure Italian from the greatest and legendary bloodline. His goal is to marry Caterina for her to be stripped off from being a curse, for him to be, someday, head of both clans and another dark mission he has to fulfill. But Caterina isn't a damsel in distress. When she met Lucas and discovered the truth, she knew there was blood to be shed. Only she didn't know whose.
View More"It's either that or you get yourself killed while walking in Time Square." My father is a healthy man. For his age, he is still capable of fighting with any weapon and through hand combat. Also, he is still a master of ruining my life. "We're despised in the Mafia, Caty. It's the only way to pay our debts and clean up the Santelli name."
"I'd rather die while walking in Time Square, then." I crossed my arms and leaned back on the chair. My father let out a frustrating sigh and touched the bridge of his nose.
"Caty, you need to do this for us. For our bloodline. For your kids someday and their kids after that," he suggested, but I am fucking far away from agreeing.
"And who says about me having kids, father?" I raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I'd rather die a virgin—" not that I'm a virgin or anything "—and fight for our bloodline, then let an arrogant stranger fix what you and mother did," I hissed through gritted teeth. My father clenches his jaw, and I knew I hit a nerve. My father was one of the most patient among three Montefiore's Capos and considered one of the toughest. He's a silent man in the business, but the merciless of all.
Pasquale Montefiore is one of the kindest and most impulsive men in the Mafia industry. Kindest because he recruited my father as one of his Capos and impulsive because he didn't give a single thought about it.
My father was once an Underboss of his father—technically, second in command. He was the second eldest among five brothers, and it became his pride for being chosen. His eldest brother, Matteo Santelli, was a jealous and compulsive asshole. So when he discovered that his younger brother was being second in command, he got furious and went rogue behind his father's back—selling information to the enemy. When my father violated Rule 3, Matteo was very happy to take my father's place and their father, my grandfather, shunned my father out of his position and disowned him as his son.
"I do not, and won't ever, regret what happened between me and your madre, Caty," father said as his eyes went soft and his jaw relaxed.
My mother was a Russian Archduchess. The fifth eldest in Larionova, a Russian mafia composed of vigorous females. Rule 3 was to never fraternize with the enemy, so when my mother got pregnant with me, they both eloped and moved to America, deciding that it might be the safest place to be. My mother died of childbirth—because of me. I killed my mother. I was a murderer before I learned how to walk. I killed with my eyes closed. Since then, my father and I have permanently stayed in New York. Occasionally, he'd only visit Italy for business—mostly for meetings and transactions.
"If you do this, you can visit Italy as you please. You don't have to sleep with one eye open. No more bodyguards and nannies to watch your back." My father is a master manipulator, but I was a master of his games.
"I survived this kind of setup for more than twenty years, father." I countered. There were no bodyguards and nannies involved in our situation. At least not that I know of. Except for Mrs. Sanchez, the cook. "I don't get why I need to have a pretend marriage to a man I don't even know."
"Amore mio, Lucas De Marchi came from one of the purest and legendary bloodlines in the entire Italian Mafia."
"And you believe that if I marry this Lucas, we—you and I—should be stripped off from the most-hated list in Italian Mafia?" I asked briskly.
"Si, Caty." This time, he was the one who calmly leaned back on his black leather chair. "If the mob sees you with a notorious and loyal man like Lucas, they'd consider, at least you if not me, to be taken back to have a better life and a position you deserve."
"And what's in it for me?" I raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't want to return to this former life of yours?"
"Then you wasted your entire childhood." He's challenging me this time. He smirks his mocking smirk at me, knowing that I don’t back down from a challenge. And he only does it to his clients. "All those training, those shooting lessons and combat drills. All a waste."
I despised my training when I was a kid. I was bruised and wounded. I wasn't an ordinary kid. At age four, I memorized all types of guns and daggers. By six, I knew how to use them. By 10, I was almost as good as my father's associates and soldiers. By age eleven, I treasured the value of being stone cold. I was kidnapped by one of my father's loyal mates and tried to electrocute the information out of me. Three days after being strapped and shocked, I realized that I was just being tested by my own father. I didn't talk to him for five months after that.
"I'm sure they wouldn't be all wasted," I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Caterina, if your madre sees how you are right now, she will, as always, be pleased as I am," he creased his forehead and softened his eyes. "And also disappointed, if you refuse this offer." Son of a bitch! He knew I have a soft spot for Mama and he was only playing me like a cat playing with its food.
I took a deep sigh of surrender, but I kept my eyes cold. I wasn't letting my guard down. "What's in it for me, then?" I repeat my earlier question.
"Whatever you want, mi Caty." My father was already smirking this time. He knew I was to be playing his game. "Power, riches, fame. Revenge."
"I can get a divorce right after I fooled them all?" I blinked.
"You can even kill them all if you want to. As long as you make them believe you are worthy. It'll be easy if you can even fool Lucas. They'll never know what hit them." He chuckled. "So are you saying yes, my Caty?"
I grabbed the nearest pen at his desk. "Where do I fucking sign?" Father slides to me a white envelope. I opened it and I signed it with my name and decided to read it later before bed.
Signed: Caterina Mari Santelli
I heard things from the darkness when the pain in my chest stopped. I didn't understand it. The words time and death were the only ones that registered. After that there was a commotion. That familiar voice was screaming, and another voice answered. Everything was in distress and I just wanted to yell for them to be quiet. I needed to think. I needed to know where I was. Why was I in darkness?Suddenly, the pain returned. The one in my throat. With cold hands, I grabbed my neck, hoping that whatever was causing the pain would go away. But it didn't. I started coughing. Then the light slowly returned. Not the blinding one, but the right one. Warm, vivid—real.~*~The fluorescent light on the ceiling was the first real thing I saw before I felt the pain in my throat. My eyes stung from the tear
Lucas~*~It has been four slow, cruel and torturous days and I stayed beside Mari every second of it, only leaving when I needed to go change or wash. The rest, I was a guard dog watching over its food.On the second day after Mari was settled in her room, Chase arrived, bloodshot eyes, and a little skinnier than the last time I've seen him. The fact that I was a little bit relieved that he was here for Mari dissolved when I learned that Gian still wasn't getting any better.On the third day, Mari jolted off her bed and the machines went overdrive with beeps. I fucking shit myself when I heard her gag over the tube that was in her throat to help her breathe. The nurses and the doctors that rushed in were frantic and also relieved at the same time. I almost choked the nu
I see nothing.I feel nothing.I can move nothing.But I can hear everything."You have to wake up, Mari," the voice pleads. It was...eerie and familiar, but I can't seem to remember who.The darkness was everywhere. And I was in a never-ending fall towards it. The first thing that crossed my mind was sleep paralysis. I was having an episode of sleep paralysis but this one I can't fight. I remain still, unmoving, dead. With all the energy that's left of me, I tried to reach and follow the voice. But it was no use. Instead, I let the darkness eat me up.~*~
Lucas~*~14 hours.Mother and father left for a quick purchase of food as Harriet lay asleep on her bed. Her even breathes, her pulsing heart and the slight movement of her eyelids; I take them in for a moment, thankful that she's alive. I don't know what I'd do if I got there too late—if Mari got there too late. Jack had arrived a few hours earlier and brought me my clothes. Washing my face from the sink in the bathroom, I momentarily stare at the fucked up in the mirror. Tight jaw, dark bags and five o'clock shadow. Anger filled me as I stared at my reflection. The superficial flaw of my face is nothing compared to what Mari and Harriet have. They had bruises and wounds and stitches while I got fucking eye bags. I should'
Lucas~*~8 hours.Mari has been in the surgery room for 8 motherfucking hours. Felix was done with my bullet wound, I washed my face, paced the floor exactly 16...17 times and there's still no word of what the damn shit is going on.I'd called my parents and told them that Harriet was in the hospital. I called Chase to tell him about Mari. I called Jack and told him to bring me a change of clothes. They were on their way. But that was 4 hours ago. Now I'm just a fucking mess pacing the floor praying for...a fucking miracle. God! What's wrong with me?I sank to the floor, frustratingly gripping my hair with my fingers. Betting my luck, I dialed Sigmund's number again."Wh
Lucas~*~All I see is red. Red from anger, red from panic and red of my Mari's blood, pooling under her body as she lay weak on the floor. I heard every gunshot behind the damn door, all eight of them now in Mari's body. Handing over my sister to the big man, who I learned is Thomas, I told him to call for the choppers. I then ran towards Mari. She was a paper coated in red, limp and pale. Her eyes heavy and tired, her focus in space."Mari," I said, slumping to the ground beside her, out of breath as blood drools down her chin. I grabbed her head, carefully bringing it on my lap for comfort. She grunts in pain. From there I saw a few bullet holes on her body. Heart thumping and face steaming, I calm myself. "You're going to be fine."Her face is wet with sweat and tear
"Run, Harriet. Fucking run!" I yelled as I struggled to free myself from Freddy's arms. I felt the warmth of his breath by my neck, and smelt the stink of the air coming out of his mouth. "Lucas will get you, just run!"Everything was happening so fast, and my ears were ringing, my vision blurring.Freddy was growling behind me, tightly straining me with his muscled arms.Harriet crying out for Freddy to let me go.Me screaming for Harriet to run.Harriet was hesitant to leave me behind, I can see it in her wide and worried eyes. But God knows it was best to leave me be than both of us dying. "GO!" I yelled louder than the first time when she didn’t move. And she does this time, limping on the stairs. Freddy's grip arou
Everything was hazy and it hurt like a motherfucker. My head throbbed like there's a jackhammer inside. I tried to open my eyes despite the pain in my skull and my ankle. Then I remembered that the fucker snapped my ankle when I was lying on my stomach. Hissing, I squint when my eyes directly set visual on the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling. Aside from that, another lamp was angled towards me like a spotlight. Fuck was it blinding.Cursing, I forced myself to sit up on the cold metal surface of what I was lying on. I moved my ankle, but winced when the pain electrocuted my entire body. Nonetheless, I forced my body to stand. Slowly, I wait until I'm used to the pain. Red smeared the low neckline of my tank only to realize that there's dry blood running from my nose and from my forehead. He fucking hit me?! I thought with rage.The room was a metal box. No wind
Mexico was heavy. It was like entering a room with a stuffy and suffocating air. Not to mention the fear that was crawling up on my spine that at any moment, someone might shoot at me. The warehouse is large, glass windows, and steel doors. It wasn't the typical warehouse I usually see that’s covered in steel and metal. It was more like a home than a slaughterhouse. Thank heavens for the transparent windows, it became easier to navigate and shoot.Wearing cargo pants, a black cropped top and combat boots that I changed into from the plane, I lay still on top of a hill by the warehouse, hidden in the grass. At least if I die, I was going to die with good clothes.I stared at the sniper scope, on my belly. And I saw movement.The warehouse was loft-style with brown leather couches and rustic tables. It would loo
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