I watched as Alessandro tapped his finger on the table, pursing his lips. It was like he was trying to figure out where to start.
âItâs been a long time, Dimitri,â he eventually said, tilting his head to the side, studying my father. His thick Italian accent came through clear as day.
âIt has,â my father replied coldly.
âHowâs the family? And business?â Alessandro asked.
âCut the shit De Luca and get on with it,â my father snapped, his icy blue eyes lit with fire.
Alessandro shook his head and chuckled, his big body shaking in his seat. âAh, still as patient as ever I see,â he said, scratching his chin. âAlright. No more pleasantries then.â He took a deep breath before continuing. âIf youâre going to understand exactly what it is weâre doing here, Iâm going to need to explain a little bit of . . . De Luca family history to you,â he said, waving his hand in front of him. âTwenty-nine years ago, my wife, Isabella, was arranged to be married to Nero Gambino, son of Matteo Gambino, Don of The Chicago Outfit. It was a contract agreed upon by their families at the time she was born. She was set to marry him a few weeks after her eighteenth birthday. That was, until she met me.â A sly smile broke out over his face, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
âWe fell for each other instantly, kindred spirits and all that. But I knew the Gambinos would never let her go. She was, for all intents and purposes, theirs. Neroâs,â he sneered, shaking his head, anger starting to take over his body at the memories playing through his mind. âThere was only one way I could see out of it. Out of her arrangement with the Gambinos,â he said, placing a hand on Arturoâs shoulder.
âYou got her pregnant,â I said, my eyes fixed firmly on Arturo.
His gorgeous blue-green eyes were already on me. Watching me. His lips were set in a slight frown that made him look even sexier.
Alessandro smiled, showing his gorgeous, straight white teeth. âSi,â he replied, nodding his head. âNero was. . . well. . . not happy to hear his bride had not only slept with another man, but was pregnant as well. He was ready to come and take her by force. To challenge me for her,â Alessandro scoffed, shaking his head, like the mere thought of that was idiotic. âBut his father wouldnât allow it. Matteo was already at war with an MC gang that was selling drugs in his territory. He couldnât afford to start another war with us. He was by no means happy with how things were playing out. The Russos â Isabellaâs family â had agreed to a union with the Gambinos, but he didnât have a choice. He simply didnât have the numbers to fight a war on two fronts. In the end, he compromised and agreed to take another Russo woman in Isabellaâs place. Isabellaâs younger sister, Mia. It meant waiting a few years until she came of age, but the agreement suited everyone.â
âEverything in the end worked out and our families were able to put aside what happened. My father Antonio De Luca, head of La Cosa Nostra, apologised in person for my âbehaviourâ and agreed to supply Matteo with a yearsâ worth of free drugs as penance. Everyone was able to forgive and forget, except for Nero,â he said, pressing his lips firmly together. I could see the veins pulsing in his neck and I knew his anger was building.
My father remained quiet as Alessandro spoke, his hands clasped together on the table in front of him. Aleksandr hadnât moved at all, his icy glare stuck firmly on the De Lucas.
âNero was never able to let go of the past. He could never accept the fact that I won, and he lost. Over the years, his anger continued to build, until he was finally able to do something about it. A few months ago, Matteo was murdered in a drug deal gone bad. His people think it was us who killed him, and I bet you can guess who started that bullshit,â he said, shaking his head, clenching his fists on the table. âNero quickly became Don of The Chicago Outfit, taking over from his father. His first order was to attack us. He claimed it was revenge for what happened to his father, but I knew better. It was and always will be about Isabella.â
âI was prepared for it and planned against his attack. It was easy. Nero was nothing more than a child playing dress up in his fatherâs clothing. He may have been his fatherâs successor, but he didnât know anything about being a leader. I had already been head of La Cosa Nostra for years, taking over after the death of my own father, before Nero stepped up. I knew how to lead, how to plan, how to fight and how to win.â
âEven though he wasnât successful the first time, Nero continued to attack us, but it was never anything more than a nuisance. He just didnât have the experience to take me on, or the guidance. He lost a lot of support after the first few attempts failed and to be honest, I was having fun slowly stripping him of everything he had,â Alessandro said, shrugging his shoulder, chuckling.
Then he took a deep breath in, closing his eyes. He exhaled loudly, letting all the air back out. âThat is, unfortunately, until my ego got the better of me. I should have stopped toying with him and just finished the job, but I was having too much fun!â he yelled, like a petulant child. âI didnât anticipate him approaching The Los Zetas for aid,â he said, scowling.
Vincenzo chuckled at his fatherâs behaviour and I couldnât help joining in. It was funny to see a big, bad, mafia boss sulking because he was having fun destroying someoneâs life and he couldnât continue to do so.
âThe Los Zetas? The Mexican Cartel?â Aleksandr asked, speaking for the first time since we entered.
âSi,â Arturo replied, speaking for the first time as well. His voice was deep and thick. Seductive. It felt like it was crawling all over my skin, giving me goosebumps.
âWith their help, heâs managed to hit us back. Hard. Heâs not only fucked up a few of our trade routes, but heâs ambushed several of our suppliers as well. They were either murdered or turned to work for him,â Alessandro said, gritting his teeth. âIâve had enough of this fucker and Iâm ready to do what I should have done years ago,â Alessandro said, straightening in his chair. âThatâs where you come in, Dimitri.â
My father arched an eyebrow at his last statement. âOh?â he questioned.
Alessandro narrowed his eyes and scowled. âDonât play dumb Volkov, you know what I want. As much as I wish I could do it on my own, I simply donât have the contacts. I need your guns. Nero has declared all-out war on us, and with the Los Zetas aiding him, heâs becoming more and more of a threat. â
My father chuckled, shaking his head. He raised his hand in the air, clicking his fingers. Immediately the woman from outside came in with a glass of what I can only assume to be vodka. She placed it down in front of him and stepped back two steps.
âWould you like a drink?â my father asked, raising his own glass to his lips and draining the contents.
Alessandro remained silent.
âFine. Just trying to be hospitable,â Father said, waving the woman off. She quickly scurried out of the room like a mouse. âWhat kind of guns do you waâ
âWhat do you have?â Vincenzo interrupted.
âTupoy ublyudok.âStupid fucker, I whispered in Russian.
Arturo narrowed his eyes.
Did he understand what I said?
My father immediately pinned his dark glare on Vincenzo the second he spoke. I could see the rigid cords in his neck, see his eyes bulging with anger. He despised when people interrupted him. It was one of his biggest pet peeves and if I was Vincenzo, Iâd be shitting my fucking pants under that death glare.
âWatch who youâre talking to boy,â my father hissed, spit flying across the table.
âMaybe itâs you who should watch out for me, old man,â Vincenzo said, grabbing an apple from the middle of the table and kicking his feet up.
Did this kid have a fucking death wish?
Arturoâs gaze was on me and my pulse spiked as I felt his eyes crawl all over me, but I kept my focus on my father. His blue eyes looked to me and he gave me the slightest nod. Barely recognisable, but I saw it.
As Vincenzo brought the apple to his lips and bit into it, I quickly pulled out a throwing knife from inside my coat and flung it straight at him. The blade flew through the air, piercing the apple with textbook precision.
Vincenzo sat frozen in place, the apple in his mouth, his hands still gripping the sides with my blade stuck right in the middle. He slowly pulled the apple away from his face and held it up in the air, looking at it with bewilderment. His green eyes landed on me and I could see the fire burning from within.
âV sleduyushchiy raz eto budet tvoy glaz.âNext time, itâll be your eye, I said in Russian, my eyes fixed firmly on Vincenzo.
âI have no idea what the fuck you just said and I donât care. That was hot as fuck,â he breathed, his green eyes sparkling with desire. His lips curved into a sly smile and he waved his fingers in the air at me, like he was saying hi.
âEnough, Vincenzo,â Arturo barked.
âEnough, both of you!â Alessandro snapped, slamming his hands on the table. âMy apologies, Dimitri. Please, continue.â
My father leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on his chin. âWhat guns do you want?â he asked, repeating his earlier question.
My eyes locked onto Vincenzoâs to make sure he kept his mouth shut this time. He smirked and winked at me.
âYour standard MP5s and M60s as well as some higher ordnance pieces for my boys and I. DAR-701-4s, to be precise. A few high-powered rifles, and some semi-automatic handguns as well should do the trick,â Alessandro said casually, like he was ordering a meal at a fucking restaurant.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Aleksandr pull out his phone and began texting away, most likely to see exactly what we had available. I knew we had plenty of MP5s and M60s, but the Canadian submachine gun (the DAR-701-4s) might be a little harder to track down.
âAnd in return?â my father questioned, arching an eyebrow.
âWhat do you want?â Alessandro asked, leaning back into his chair.
Expansion. My fatherâs voice fluttered through my brain.
âI want more, Alessandro. More territory, more money, more power. If you canât help me with that, then this negotiation is over,â Father said briskly.
Maxim chuckled from behind me, amused at my fatherâs words.
Arturoâs blue-green eyes flicked up to Maxim. A dark, evil look crossed his face, one that screamed danger. Pain. It was a look you gave your enemies before you stepped out onto the battlefield, one used to intimidate, to make them cower.
I sucked in a breath at the darkness radiating from him, my heart thumping loudly in my chest. Arturo glanced at me and his gaze turned predatory, like a man honing in on a woman he wanted to fuck.
Maxim grumbled loudly enough for the whole damn room to hear him and caused a smile to break out over Arturoâs face.
âThat, I can most certainly help you with my friend,â Alessandro chuckled. âMore territory? Simple. Take Chicago once this is all over. I donât want it, nor do I need it. One of your sons can rule in your place if you see fit. More money? Easy. With our distribution already set up in New York City, weâll sell your guns for a small percentage. More power? Well, thatâs something perhaps you and I should discuss in private,â Alessandro finished, his gaze sweeping the men standing behind my father.
I couldnât figure out if he was just a cautious person or if he genuinely didnât trust our men.
My father tapped his fingers along the table, pursing his lips in thought. I could see he was seriously considering this but there was still a part of him that was holding back.
âYou said The Los Zetas aided Nero. How so? Was it just with weapons, or did they supply Nero with men to help take you on?â I asked Alessandro, leaning forward on my elbows.
A sly smile broke out over his face as his gaze landed on me.
âIntelligente e bella.âSmart and beautiful, Alessandro said in Italian.
âI preferisco mortale.âI prefer deadly, I replied in Italian.
I watched in amusement as all three of the De Luca men looked at me in surprise, their jaws dropping open. They hadnât anticipated I could speak their native tongue.
My father always thought it was important to know your enemy. And how can you know your enemy if you donât speak their language? So, he made sure my brothers and I learnt the basics. Russian, Italian, Spanish and Chinese.
âTo answer your question Principessa, Princess, it was with reinforcements. The Los Zetas provided a stream of men to help in his crusade against us,â Alessandro replied.
âAnd is that what you need from us? Men as well as weapons?â Aleksandr asked, continuing my line of questioning.
My father leaned back in his chair and let us take over. He never minded when we asked questions, if anything he preferred it. He always used to say that the best way to learn something was to do it firsthand.
If Alessandro cared that we were the ones asking questions, he didnât show it. He continued as if my father himself had spoken.
âSi. Iâm not asking to pluck your men from your territory and bring them to mine. No, no no,â Alessandro began, his thick Italian accent coating his words. âIâm merely suggesting that when certain situations arise, I can call upon you and your men to aid us. We would extend the same courtesy to you as well, should you need it.â
My father remained silent as he processed Alessandroâs words. I could see his brain running through every possible scenario that having an alliance with the De Lucas would bring.
He raised his hand and clicked his fingers, bringing forth the woman from earlier with a new drink in her hand. She took the empty glass from before, placed the new one down in front of my father, and quickly made her exit.
He brought the glass to his lips and sighed with satisfaction as the liquid moved down his throat. He remained silent after finishing his drink, letting the suspense build in the air. The four men standing behind the De Lucas started to shift from foot to foot, unable to hide their discomfort.
Father watched as the men squirmed before him. He didnât show it, but I could tell he was pleased at their reaction. The only ones seemingly unaffected by my fatherâs powerful presence were the De Luca men.
âYouâve given me a lot to think about Alessandro. A lot to consider. But I do still have one question for you,â my father spoke low, his voice rough.
Alessandro arched an eyebrow, waiting.
âHow do you plan to solidify our alliance? A blood oath? Or a union of marriage?â
At Fatherâs last question, I heard a sharp intake of breath come from behind me, and I knew it was Maxim. I didnât need to turn around to know exactly the kind of look that would be on his face.
A low growl started sounding throughout the room and it took everything in me not to stand up and slap him across the face. I clenched my fists on the table and closed my eyes. Taking three deep breaths, I opened them back up to find Arturoâs gorgeous eyes looking directly at me.
A frown flashed on his face, his eyes darting quickly between Maxim and I. It was clear he could tell there was something going on between us. Only a fool wouldnât recognise the signs. And if Arturo- a complete stranger â could figure it out, that meant my father could, too.
Alessandro opened his mouth to respond and Arturo tapped him lightly on the shoulder, stopping him. Alessandro leaned over so Arturo could whisper in his ear. After a few seconds, Alessandro pulled back and stared at his son, frowning.
Arturo held his fatherâs gaze, not backing down from whatever he said.
Alessandroâs blue eyes narrowed at me before returning to his son. He gave a swift nod and then turned back to face my father.
âAn alliance such as ours has never been attempted before. It stands to reason that there will be those not happy with a truce between our people,â he said, waving his hand in the air. âTo guarantee a strong alliance, and to show we mean business, I suggest we do both.â
âBoth?!â A voice shrieked.
It took a second for me to realise it was Maxim. My father, Aleksandr and I all slowly turned around in our seats, staring at our fatherâs Sovietnik in disbelief.
Maxim quickly regained his composure and lowered his gaze to the floor. But it was too late. The damage was done. I didnât even have to look at my father to know he was seething. I could hear him grinding his teeth. I watched as he clenched and unclenched his hands, the act showing how desperate he was to wrap his hands around Maximâs throat.
âYes,â Alessandro continued. âBoth.â
We all turned back around, ignoring Maximâs outburst (for now) and focused back on the matter at hand.
âIâm proposing a blood oath between you and I, Dimitri. And a union of marriage between my son and your daughter,â he said, inclining his head towards me.
My eyes locked onto Arturoâs. His gaze roamed over my face, then my body, like he was taking inventory. A dark, predatory look crossed his face before he gave me a panty-melting smirk, one that made shivers dance over my skin. Looking at the man, you could just tell he would be amazing in bed. That he knew the way around a womanâs body, that he would give you a night you would never forget.
My body was frozen under Arturoâs scrutiny. I couldnât move, couldnât think. My mind was like jello. Holy fuck. They really were suggesting a marriage! Before I could even think of a response, Father spoke.
âI see,â he said, rising slowly from his chair. Aleksandr and I quickly followed. âLike I said, youâve given me a lot to think about. Iâll let you know my decision in two days.â With a final nod in their direction, my father turned and headed for the door.
Aleksandr bowed slightly, before pivoting on his heels and walking away.
My eyes connected one more time with Arturoâs as I made my way towards the exit.
Just as I reached the door, I heard his deep, seductive voice call out to me in Russian.
âSkoro uvidimsya kotenok,â See you soon, kitten.