Chapter 1

Marcello awoke with a jolt. Sweat slicked up his skin, leaving beads of sweat spotting across his naked chest. For a moment, he laid on the bed staring at the ceiling of his room.

It wasn't often he dreamed of that night in Manhattan, not anymore. Sometimes it could've creeped into his mind and it wouldn't let go. The memory itself was a nightmare. That night, he had followed his parent's killer to his dwelling. 

Jacopo took him off the streets, gave him a home, but every good deed has its own price.

Marcello released deep breaths, running his fingers through his dark hair as he sat up on his bed. As hard as he tried to tolerate Jacopo, he couldn't keep in the hatred he had for him. 

There wasn't a thing Marcello wanted for when he grew up in Colombo's household other than to get a lot of power to be able to get his revenge on his parent's killer.

He started from an errand boy, to a chauffeur, to a drug carrier and now he was their consigliere. The third in command. He did a lot of hard work to get to where he is. He was relentless, unforgiving, strategic and cruel in the game of Mafia and he didn't fear death. When he first started to learn the ways of a gangster, he had received a lot of threats from the other members of the gang and even from Jacopo's sons, especially Giorgio.

As funny as it was, their mother dotes on him. Treated him like a son, gave him all the support and motherly love he needed when he was finding it hard to get used to seeing new faces and staying in the house. She always said that he looked just like his father when his father was still alive. 

His new brothers had been the most unwelcoming, and probably most frightening. Adriano was the largest of the three Colombo boys, though Marcello towered over him by a couple of inches now. Giorgio was definitely the smartest and most cunning of the three, always hating on Marcello and using every Italian cuss word at him but Adriano was different, although he didn't show that he liked him nor did he show he didn't like him. He was the self-controlled one out of the three of them. 

Marcello doesn't think he has any much of a good memory of his later childhood. 

These are not the memories he wanted to think about this morning.

It is Sunday and they have a mission in Brooklyn, New York City.

No business on Sundays. It was a rule. But they have to break the rule just for today to go on with their mission. They all agreed to it.

There are quite a few rules, in fact a lot, apart from 'no business on Sundays'. Being an Italian, Cosa Nostra, family is everything when it comes to living a life as a Colombo.

Family. Loyalty. Reputation. God.

Familiar. Lealtà. Reputazione. Dio.

Women. Money. Business.

It all needed to be handled just so. Reputation was essential. Family was everything. Pride and fearlessness also needed. Loyalty is an exemption. As always being cruel and unforgiving that their enemies had to expect when a Colombo was crossed.

They were to keep their heads straight, no matter what situation they come to face. Never would they leave their home without a gun in their possession. Cops were not to be trusted, a Colombo who is seen with a cop is considered "rats" or "snitches"

A knock on the door disrupts Marcello's thoughts. 

"Merda," He cussed under his breath, knocking off the sheets and moving his bare large feet to the cool tiled floor. "Damn,"

How could he be so lost in thought? 

He climbed out of his king-size bed, naked, he hurried to the bathroom to brush his teeths and take his bath. He couldn't afford being late to the meeting being held in the Capo's office. In a few minutes, he was already showered and dressed in an all black suit.

He threw the towel he'd used over the arm of the nearest sofa. He opened the door and came face-to-face with a maid.

"Good morning sir." She said, her head lowered and her cheeks turning red.

Marcello nodded his head and began walking towards Capo's office.

Immediately he got inside, five of the gang members greeted him in which he returned their greetings.

Jacopo sat behind his desk, sipping from a glass of cold water, while Adriano was stretched across the leather couch, nodding at what his father had said before Marcello arrived while Giorgio who was standing behind his father glared at him just as he entered the office.

"You're late." Giorgio snapped at him.

Marcello ignored him. "Buongiorno, Capo." He walked up to Jacopo to kiss the back of his hand.

"Good morning brothers." Marcello greeted before taking his own position.

Adriano just nodded.

"Where is Nico?" Marcello whispered to Luca who stood beside him.

Luca was Jacopo's nephew and also Marcello's buddy. He and Nico were the two honest and fun people he felt free talking with. They are friends but that doesn't mean Marcello trusted them enough to let his guard down.

There are a lot of things they don't know about him.

Luca scoffed. "He is sleeping off his ass from the alcohol he had last night."

Was it that bad for him not to attend the meeting?

"Was it that bad?"

"Pretty bad. He couldn't drive himself home and almost got himself into a fight with the motorcycle gang The Homeless Royals." Luca replied under his breath. "But I got there quickly to save his drunk ass."

Marcello almost smiled.

"I'm sure we all know we have a new mission. Part of the cracks shipped over by Black Dragons from Colombia is missing and I'm suspecting Anthony of stealing from me." Jacopo began.

When Jacopo says he suspects someone then it means the person was guilty.

Anthony is a Deacon in a Catholic church in Brooklyn. He has been the middleman between them and the drug supplier for the past two years. 

Marcello's gaze narrowed. "How long have you been suspecting Anthony?"

"For so long. I don't trust anyone with my money or goods."

Another rule. Trust no one but yourself.

Jacopo continued to say, "We are going to give him a warning never to mess with me when it comes to my cracks. Don't kill him just make him suffer. I want him to regret stealing from me. Take away what he loves so much. I heard he adores his elder daughter." He gave a devilish smile and took a deep drink from his water.

"We are going to take her away from him." Adriano added on

"Then what? Why do we have to take the girl?" Marcello questioned.

"Just bring the girl and leave the rest to me to decide."

They all nodded their heads.

Jacopo talked some more about other businesses before the meeting ended and they headed to the dining room.

They all got there.

"Good morning Mother." 

"I am glad you guys are done with your meeting." Mother said as they entered the room.

Mother, Greta was married to Jacopo Colombo—a high profile boss of one of the biggest organised outfits in the United State.

Marcello always wondered if Greta was forced to marry Jacopo because the Mafia was well known for their contract or arranged marriage, whatever they call it. Traditionally women in Mafia families were kept outside the business side of things. Greta was simply a mother and housewife. 

He had never seen Greta and Jacopo showing any kind of love towards each other. It was obvious Greta respected her husband but didn't love him.

Marcello wasn't interested in those two words 'marriage and love'. Not even kids.

"Let us have breakfast before we leave for church." She added from her spot at the table.

"No, mother. We are going to Brooklyn and we don't want to be late for church." Adriano replied coolly.

Greta rolled her eyes at her eldest son's cold reply. "If you boys don't want to eat then good for you. Marcello, sit-down and eat with us."

A wave of awareness ran down Marcello's spine when Gabriella's gaze settled on him across the table. He was going to ignore her, but found himself glancing at her anyway.

Dante, her husband, sat on her other side. He leaned back in his chair, looking bored. 

"Mother, I…"

"Don't refuse me. Sit down and eat." She interrupted.

Greta was an obstinate woman when it comes to him and he knew he had no choice but to obey her.

"I am just going to eat a slice of bread then I'm leaving." He told her.

"Go on, eat, son." She said, smiling.

"We will be waiting for you at the garage. One minute is all you have to meet us there." Giorgio warned with a frown on his face.

Marcello took a sip from the glass of water in front of him as his eyes met Gabriella's again. He frowned.

He remembered his father used to have a saying; Non ha il dolce a caro, chi provato non ha l'amaro. It was a way of telling him that regret is the most painful thing in life and there was no room for it, and that a man can have moments of light in a year or moments of suffering.

He'd heard it when he was seven, as he looked at the first dead man he'd ever seen; eyes open, blood pooling on the pavement of the road.

His father wasn't moved as he drove past the scene. It was as if he was used to seeing people die before his eyes.

Ever since Marcello became a part of Colombo crime family, he realised regrets were easy to come by. They piled up, each one weakening a man's determination. He didn't regret much, and up until recently he had only one that followed him around for years. He regretted fucking Gabriella while she was just 19 years old, a virgin, and about to get married to Dante.

Marcello stood up from the chair, and all eyes on the table drifted towards him.

"I will be on my way, Mother." He said and walked away.

Hours later…

Brooklyn, New York City.

9:00 am, At the church.

Church was never Marcello's thing. He understood the importance the Colombo family held for religion, respected it, but that didn't mean he particularly liked it.

He just didn't like the gathering. He preferred praying alone.

Mass was a two hour event. It never ended.

"I am going to the confession box." He announced loud enough for his brothers to hear.

They were all putting on black outfits.

"Go confess all your sins, brother." Luca chuckled.

Marcello nodded and left for the confession box.

Honestly, he had nothing to confess about not like even if he confesses his sins will he repent. He had committed a lot of sins that are so many that it could take the whole day confessing his sins.

He just needed a good smoke away from the large crowd. He wanted to be alone and where he could get that was the confession box.

Walking the short distance to the confession box, he grabbed the curtain and tugged it open.

"Is that you, Father?" A female voice called from the other side of the latticed opening.

Marcello promptly froze right where he stood as he heard the enchanting voice that sounded like his mother for a minute or not.

"Are you there, Reverend?"

"Y..yes, uh, let's begin." He raised a brow.

What was he doing?

Pretending to be a priest.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

"What sin?" Marcello didn't know why but he felt compelled to hear more of this 'sin' she committed.

"I had dirty thoughts about a man." She said, her voice shaking.

Marcello's eyes flickered with dark enjoyment. "What kind of thoughts, child?"

"I touched myself." She choked out. It sounded like she was ashamed of saying this when she knew the priest didn't know who she was. "I want to ask for forgiveness from the Lord."

"How did you feel?"

"It was so new to me. It felt so good…" she suddenly stopped as if realising something.

Amusement filled Marcello. He tried to ignore the heat running to his groyne at the thought of a woman touching herself in front of him.

"You…"

"Wait." She interrupted.

"Is there something wrong?" There was no response from the woman. "Are you still there?"

Marcello was taken aback as the curtain tugged open and a gorgeous woman appeared before him. 

She was putting on a white dress. Damn, she looked so innocent.

His eyes flickered over, taking in every inch of her. 

Her body… fucking pleasantly shaped. Her eyes cool and brown in a beautiful face, her hair as black as a Raven's wing, and long enough that he could imagine himself wrapping it around his fist twice. The thought had fitted through his mind unwillingly. And at church. Christ.

Her big brown eyes glared at him. "You aren't Reverend John!"

To be continued…