Chapter 14: Veiled Vows: Chapter 14

“I’m proud of you.” Santino drums his fingers on the table, occasionally tapping his glass while he looks at Alto. “You’ve brought the Yakuza exactly where I want them.”

Alto lifts his chin and smiles smugly. “It was a piece of cake.”

“Hardly.” I can’t stop myself. Learning that Alto was handed the Yakuza meeting was made all the worse when I learned Jasmine had been there. “There wouldn’t have been a meeting without Jasmine and Enzo. They handed that to us on a silver platter.”

“Enough,” Santino barks before Alto can wind up his snarky response. “While Jasmine and her father may have laid out a stepping stone, it’s Alto who took the meeting.”

“With Jasmine,” I reply, fixing my father with a steady stare. “We are to be married, remember.”

“Trust me,” Santino says darkly. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Fuck Jasmine,” Alto spits. “We’ve had dealings with the Yakuza for longer than them, and we’re hardly on the same level when it comes to disagreements. It would be easier to smooth things over with the Yakuza and make them deal with the Falzones instead.”

“A fucking terrible idea for a small-brained little rat.” The annoyance surges inside me like a wave. “We need this union.”

“Do we?” My father lifts his glass and drinks slowly, then he swirls the copper liquid around and drinks once more. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“Of course we do.” This union is the only thing staying the trigger of the Mancini family, who still have their sights set on us. Revealing that will make everything crumble because I know my father. He will try to manipulate the Mancinis into killing the Falzones, thinking we’ll get away clean and free, but the Mancinis were clear. We’re both on the chopping block, and I won’t have my chance to see him suffer snatched away from me.

“Do we?” Alto challenges, drawing my attention back to him. “Think about it. The Falzones are stronger than us, but by a margin. That margin is wasted on their war with the Yakuza over fuck knows what. But if we amplify the Yakuza, then the Falzones are forced to apply more and more of their power against the attacks leaving them wide open for us.”

“Only someone as dimwitted as you would think it’s that simple.” My jaw snaps closed as barely constrained anger ripples through every tense muscle in my body. “Do you really think the Falzones are dumb enough to take their eyes off us? Especially when the larger families are watching us so closely right now? Do you really think we could stand against say, I don’t know, the Mancinis if we piss off the wrong people?”

“Fuck the Mancinis⁠—”

“Enough!” Santino cuts off Alto’s words with a bark. “I will not have this kind of bickering at my table!”

We both fall silent, glaring hatred at one another across the table.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Santino says tightly. “Roman is right. This decision has placed a lot of eyes on us, and we have to move carefully. Making peace with the Yakuza makes us look good, it makes us look agreeable, and anyone who’s paying attention will be happy. Remember, Alto. There’s always someone watching, and there are several tables I don’t have an invite to. Not yet. So as much as I detest that filthy family …” He pauses and drains his glass. “We must bide our time.”

It’s the best response I can expect right now. With any luck, as soon as the marriage is secure, my father’s interests will move elsewhere, onto the bigger eyes watching us, and I can strike.

“But Father⁠—”

“Enough, Alto,” Santino orders. “Your concerns are for another time. Right now, we must look appeased, but that doesn’t mean we will sit back and do nothing. Roman.”

“Yes, Father?” Our eyes meet.

“Keep up appearances. I want the world to think this union is the best thing to happen to us. I want everyone invited, and if you have to play up to some people then do it. But since you got us into this mess, you will get us out?”

“How so?” My chest tightens briefly as the Mancinis flood my thoughts. Their threat hangs over us like a cloud only I can see, and revealing the truth is not an option.

“Jasmine. I want you to spy on her. Get close to her. Find out everything you can about her and her family. She’s a woman, so she won’t be too difficult to break. See if you can find out anything about how they operate or their future plans that will allow us to dismantle them quietly. If I have to allow this marriage to happen, then I want to ensure we’re stepping over their husk.”

“Yes, Father.” It’s easier at this point just to agree and let the conversation move on. Santino clearly has no idea what kind of firecracker Jasmine is, but maybe that’s for the best. She has her plans and I have mine. All I need to do is make sure that the Mancinis and every other higher family that was discussing our demise remain happy that we are no longer a threat.

And if that means spying to appease my father, then so be it.

“You should have been there,” Alto remarks, shoving past me in the hallway as we walk through the estate a few hours later.

I need to get to the gym before my irritation at him, my father, and everything else eats me alive. The shit I have to do for this family when they don’t even know it, and time and time again I have to scrape by and prove myself while Alto gets praise for the bare fucking minimum.

“Where?” I ask as disinterestedly as I can.

“At the meeting with the Yakuza. Your little fiancée was looking so fucking sexy. Her clothes were so tight it was like she wanted all of us to stare at her and I mean, she might be a dirty Falzone, but she has an ass on her for sure.”

Each word stokes the anger burning in my gut, but I keep walking.

“She needs a good fucking to remind her of her place I bet. Something you’ll be incapable of with that tiny fucking dick of yours. Y’know, all it took was one meeting and you’re falling to the side again, Roman. You really should have brought the marriage up between me and her. But I bet if I ask Dad, he won’t mind us sharing the little bitc⁠—”

My fist collides with his jaw sending him crashing back into the wall. His hip clips the side table, knocking over a priceless vase, and it shatters on the floor at our feet.

“You fuck!” Alto launches at me, and his knuckles graze my jaw as I sidestep.

His elbow thumps into my gut as he charges me against the opposite wall. I drive my elbow down between his shoulder blades and twist hard into his spine, then throw my knee up into his gut. Despite his grunt of pain, he throws a left hook into my side and hits soft, unprotected flesh. I twist and punch him hard in the face again. He stumbles back, throws a punch up and narrowly misses my chin. I punch his shoulder, he twists and throws an opposite punch that hits my ribs. Each blow we exchange makes me angrier and angrier.

How dare he say those things! How dare he even entertain the idea of passing Jasmine around like some piece of meat. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to pulverize his face so he can’t even look at her again.

“Look at you,” Alto sneers through a mouthful of blood. “Don’t tell me you actually like her.”

“Shut the fuck up!” My knuckles crush his nose and send him back into the wall, dislodging one of the paintings hanging there. It crashes to the floor with a thunk as Alto punches me in the ribs, but I roll with the force and avoid most of the blow, then throw my elbow back into his chest.

“I knew it,” he pants wetly. “The son of a whore is attracted to a whore, I should have known.”

White hot rage drips through my veins, and suddenly I can’t breathe. My hands latch around Alto’s throat and for a few dark seconds, I’m certain I will kill him right here.

No one talks about my mother.

No one.

But just as my rage builds at the thought of her, it suddenly calms as her warm face flits through my mind. For a split second, I’m not glaring down into Alto’s eyes, I’m gazing up at her warmth while she smiles down at me and pats my cheek.

I’m doing this for her.

I have to stay strong for her.

Killing Alto here, while he deserves it, doesn’t give him what he deserves. He deserved to die slower and with much more suffering. Every single fucker in this house deserves that for what they did to her.

What they did to me.

With a yell, I throw Alto away from me. He lands in a heap and bursts out laughing through gasping breaths. “You’re pathetic, Roman,” he spits out.

I turn away, curling my hands into fists so tight that my knuckles pop and pain lances up my forearm. I need to get the fuck away.

“Yeah, walk away!” Alto yells. “You’re fucking pathetic. All the work you do and what is it for? Nothing. Nothing!” He cackles, unfazed by my lack of response. “But don’t worry, like the good son I am, I’m taking care of all Dad’s problems including that little bitch.”

I halt immediately, rooted to the spot as I turn and stare back at Alto kneeling on the floor and wiping his bloody nose. Something about the twisted glee in his eyes sets my heart racing, and a deep sense of dread pulls through my gut.“Alto … what did you do?”

He cackles again. “Checkmate, you little cunt.”