Alexius: Chapter 3

The pungent smell of grease and cheap coffee clings to my six-thousand-dollar suit. That diner is a fucking hole, and it should be illegal for them to serve food. My God, it should be illegal for that dive to even exist.

Our trip reminded me what a fucking hellhole that part of Chicago is, another reason I chose Leandra. Maximo had a lot of profiles of potential candidates, a lot of Italian women who fit the bill to be my future wife.

Italian blood.

Young and beautiful.

No family.

No friends.

Most importantly, desperate. All of them were at a point in their lives where marrying a rich, powerful man who could offer a lifetime of security would be a fucking gift from God.

This motherfucking curveball of finding a wife forced me to pick a potential bride from a goddamn file. Annoyance clogged my veins as I turned each page, staring at the faces of women who all live mundane lives that have no meaning, yet they plaster on smiles, pretending to fit into a world that wouldn’t miss them the second they disappeared.

But it was a candid image of Leandra Dinali standing by a grave, arms crossed tight and her hair blowing across her face, that made me pause on her profile. There was something about her vulnerability reflecting in that picture that made it impossible for me to put it down. Maybe it’s the fact that I myself will soon be standing by a grave, mourning the loss of a parent.

And now, after looking into her amber eyes earlier, witnessing the fear with the tiniest sliver of courage that shined through in the lighter hues, I am confident in my decision. Poor girl has nothing. No family. No friends. No hope. She’s the perfect fucking candidate for what I need her for—to accept my offer and play the role of a doting wife until my dad takes his last breath.

The estate’s large security gates come into view. Well-manicured lawns flank the asphalt driveway, and I have renewed appreciation for the wealth that surrounds us, not giving a shit about where all the money comes from.

“You think she will accept?” Maximo doesn’t look back from the front passenger seat as we pull up in front of the house.

I rub my chin with my thumb and forefinger. “The girl has nothing. She’d be stupid not to.”

“We have a few other options we can consider should she decline.”

“She’s a nomad. No family, no friends, has a fuck load of emotional baggage that makes her vulnerable enough to want to accept my offer. Plus, she has a pretty face.”

The chauffeur opens my door, and I get out, fastening the buttons of my suit jacket. Maximo falls into step next to me. “If she does not accept your offer?”

“Then we make her.” I stop and turn to face him. “We don’t have time to fuck around. My dad’s cancer is growing, so we have no idea how long we have to make sure Roberto doesn’t get his hands on what’s rightfully mine.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Maximo assures me with unwavering loyalty. Besides being our family enforcer, he’s my best goddamn friend.

I nod before heading inside the house. My dad’s diagnosis forced me to grow up fucking fast. I’ve always known I’d take over from him eventually, but I didn’t think I’d be head of this family so soon. Yet here I am, preparing to claim my birthright, and I haven’t even celebrated my thirtieth birthday yet.

My footsteps resound with hardened determination across the lacquered floor as I make my way to the room where everyone with a seat at the table is from the same blood. So many have tried to join our family’s alliance. Still, throughout the years, my father had made it clear that the Dark Sovereign was solely for the Del Rossa and Savelli families—a union brought together by my parents’ marriage.

I pull the gold key from my pocket, slip it into the lock, and open the large pocket door, the dark mahogany disappearing in the cavity built into the walls. The rollers glide across the overhead track, barely making a sound, revealing the room that defines us all.

The musky, honeyed scent of beeswax lingers in the air—the oval table taking up the most significant part of the room. My footsteps are muted by the thick carpet, its burgundy color complementing the accent tones of maroon and trimmings of gold. Magnolia-colored curtains drape to the sides of the windows, pooling down on the carpet, and there is nothing but pride in my heart as I glance from wall to wall. This room is as majestic as the men who gathered here over time.

Five black button-tufted executive chairs flank the table, and I saunter around it, placing my fingers on my father’s seat, the only one marked with the silver and gold symbol. My chair is placed on his right, Nicoli’s on his left. On the other side of the table there are two chairs. Uncle Roberto and Uncle Ricardo.

Five members. Three Del Rossas. Two Savellis. There would always be five to avoid a deadlock. And since my father’s the leader, the one who carries the bulk of the responsibility, he gets to share it with two of his sons.

I stare at the chair adjacent to my father’s. Roberto Savelli, my mother’s oldest brother. I don’t trust him. I never have. The way he looks at my father’s chair, it’s clear that he covets the seat, wanting nothing more than to have his fat ass sit in that position. But there is no way in hell I’ll allow it. Ever.

Even though I disagree with my father’s demand of me taking a wife, thinking it’s absolute pure fucking bullshit, I will do what needs to be done—just like I always have, and always will.

At the start of the Dark Sovereign, it was decided that my father would lead because he had the wealth and the power of the Del Rossa empire behind him. My grandfather, Ludavico Savelli, used to sit across from my father with Roberto at his side. Ludavico agreed to my father’s leadership because he knew the Del Rossa name carried more weight than his own.

It was my father who made the Dark Sovereign what it is today. A family who rules the masses. A family that exterminates its enemies and takes care of its friends. We are equally feared and loved, our presence rivaled by those who seek just a fraction of our influence and the authority we wield.

Ludovico and my father decided that no other family would join ours. We didn’t need to form alliances with others because the Del Rossa and Savelli union had made us strong enough on our own. Having too many members and alliances is a congestion of opinions and voices that had the potential to create inner conflict. But my uncle doesn’t share the same opinion. All he sees is more power, more money, and wealth that would come if others should join. Unfortunately for him, that will never fucking happen–not as long as a Del Rossa leads.

The day my grandfather died and Roberto took his seat, I felt a shift in the air—a sense of foreboding that would soon challenge the ranks within the Dark Sovereign. And that is why I will go to hell and back to protect my father’s place at the table. His legacy will live on in me.

I glance at Nicoli’s seat, thinking I’ll have to inform my twin brother of my decision to marry. Not that he’ll care. Maybe he will; who knows? But it would be safer to expect the unexpected when it comes to Nicoli. The man is unpredictable at best. You never know what the hell goes on inside that head of his. One minute he’s calm and cracking jokes, the next his slitting throats and hacking off heads half an hour before dinner. You always hear stories about cruel men with a bloodlust that stems from some sort of trauma or life event that fucked them up somehow. But that’s not the case with my twin brother. He’s just always a shade darker than the rest of us.

The sound of light footsteps echoes from behind me as I slide the pocket door closed, locking it before placing the key back into my jacket pocket.

“Alexius, there you are.”

I turn to face my mother, her blue eyes beaming with light. “Mother.” I step closer and kiss her cheek. “You’re looking for me?”

“I am. Walk with me.” She hooks her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I know by the tone in her voice that we are about to have a mother-son heart-to-heart.

She breathes in deep as we walk out on the back patio. “Soon, our garden will be a blanket of snow.” She smiles. “I remember when you and Nicoli were little, you would chase each other around the garden through the snow. You never could catch your brother.”

“I still can’t.” I scoff. “But I sure could kick his ass in a snowball fight.”

She snickered. “You sure could.”

Her fingers tighten around my elbow as she stares out over the garden. It’s a paradise of flowers and shrubs, the tall trees slowly turning from a vibrant green to the yellow and brown hues of autumn. During spring, butterflies flit around the colors, the air rich with a floral fragrance.

“It always amazes me how the view changes with every angle you look at it. Every time I walk out here, I know I will never see this exact image, this exact view ever again.” She looks up at me. “Nature changes with every second. And so do we.”

“Dad told you.” I sigh.

“He did. And I understand your hesitancy toward a marriage simply to solidify your position.”

“You do?” I cock a brow in surprise. “And here I thought you were bringing me out here to list the twenty-two reasons Dad is right.”

“Your dad is right.” She lets go of my arm, walking up to the barrier of the patio. “It wasn’t easy for us when your dad and I married.”

I step in next to her.

“Especially for your dad. He was against our union from the very start.”

“He was?”

She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, her slender form and flawless skin still carrying a youth that does not reflect her fifty-three years of age. “It took a lot of persuading for him to accept your grandfather’s deal. Marriage for an alliance.”

My fingers brush along my chin to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. “I never would have guessed Dad was against it.”

She lifts her shoulders, her small five-foot frame and petite features shaded by my shadow. “Your father sacrificed more for this family than you’ll ever know. But we both knew it had to be done for the well-being of this family, and many generations to come.” She takes my hand and places it between her palms, her skin soft and warm. Comforting. “But your father and I were hopelessly in love by the time you were born. It just took us a while to realize what love truly is.”

“And what’s that?”

Her smile lights up against the colors of fall. “Love is not the butterflies you feel when you’re with someone. It’s the brokenness you experience when you’re apart.”

A soothing comfort settles in my chest as she palms my cheek, looking up at me with the gaze of a mother who loves her child unconditionally. “You have grown into a strong man, Alexius. Your grandfather would be proud.”

With a gentle touch, I take her fingers and place a kiss on the top of her hand. “Grazie, Mamma.” I step back. “But I’m afraid there is no place in my heart for love. Only my duty for this family.”

“Give it time. Now,” she takes a step back, “go find your brothers. I can only assume that the three of them are up to no good.”

“As always.”

The sun has long passed its highest point, the shadow of our two-story house casting shade across the whole patio. My mother has a way of telling me what needs to be done without causing the weight on my shoulders to grow heavier. Somehow, she always knows what I need to hear—especially when the struggle adds strain to a sometimes-crippling duty.

“Maximo,” I call, knowing he’s never out of ear’s reach.

“Yeah?” He walks up from behind me as we cross the rotunda foyer.

“I don’t need to ask where my brothers are.”

“Of course not. It’s Friday.”

“Ah-huh.” I place a palm on his shoulder. “How about we go join them for a change?”

“What if the girl pitches up while we’re gone?”

“She won’t,” I reply with confidence. “She’ll wait the twenty-four hours we’ve given her.”

“You sure?”

“I am. But let’s just inform security to let us know if a girl shows up.”

He nods. “Will do.”

“Now, let’s go try to have some fun.”

“Sounds good.” Maximo walks out in front of me and opens the back passenger door of the black Maserati Quattroporte.

Before getting in, I glance up at our European-inspired mansion—a ten-thousand square feet of living space placed on a three-acre estate with exquisite landscaping. There is no end to our wealth, but it comes at a price like everything else in the world. We aren’t saints, and we sure as fuck didn’t acquire all this by sitting in church pews every Sunday morning praying for forgiveness. No. We extort the sins of others, using their own vice against them. But that’s the reality of the world we live in—only the strongest survive…and we sure as fuck are the strongest.

Maximo’s phone rings just as I’m about to get into the back of the car, and we give each other a knowing look as he pulls it out of his pants pocket.

Leandra Dinali.