His Wife: Chapter 9

“He’s not in love with me.”

Both Nicoli and I stare at her.

“What?” Her eyes find mine. “He’s not in love with me, Alexius.”

I’ve suspected it, and it’s crossed my mind a thousand times. But I hoped to be wrong because Isaia is my blood, and Leandra has become the one thing strong enough to make me break that brotherly bond without thinking twice.

“Nicoli is right.” I loosen my tie and unbutton my collar. “Isaia is—”

“—not in love with me. That’s absurd.”

Nicoli picks up Isaia’s dead cigarette off the ground and tosses it out a window. “All of us can see it. The way he looks at you.”

“We’re friends. That’s it.” Leandra reaches behind her ear, and I know I should stop her from scratching the scar, but I don’t. Jealousy is an ugly motherfucker that has the power to make you feel nothing else, and as I touch the tender flesh of my cheek, all I want to do is bash Isaia’s face in. I can practically see the jealousy and anger swell inside me, making me want to hurt my little brother in ways that would have my father turning in his grave.

Leandra wipes her palms down the front of her black dress, her cheeks pale and eyes worried. “Excuse me,” she mutters and starts up the stairs and disappears around the corner.

I rub my temple, feeling a headache coming on. “Any other day,” I mumble. “This could have happened any other fucking day, but no, it had to be today.”

“You know that’s how we roll, man. This family’s timing has always gone for shit.” Nicoli slips his hands into his pockets. “Never a dull fucking moment. You’ll have to ice that.” He gestures to my face.

“It’s not that bad. I need a drink.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Instead of going to the dining room or my office, I pull the gold key from my pocket, deciding today is a good day to open the bottle of Glenlivet whiskey my father kept in the Dark Sovereign meeting room.

Nicoli follows and closes the pocket door behind him, and I take the bottle from the glass cabinet.

“That’s the bottle our grandfather gave Dad. Are we finally opening it today?” Nicoli asks.

I brush my thumb across the label. “Dad always said he was waiting for the perfect day to open this. My guess is, today is that day.”

The seal cracks under my hand as I twist the cap, and I instantly smell its rich aroma of dark chocolate and sultanas. I inhale deeply, savoring it, thinking of all the times my dad held this bottle in his hand, saying he couldn’t wait to taste one of the most expensive whiskeys in the world. It crushes me thinking that he never got the chance to.

“Cheers,” Nicoli says as we clink glasses. “To Dad.”

“To Dad.” As the crystal rim touches my lips, I hesitate for a second before taking the first sip. The smooth liquid bursts onto my tongue with the taste. It’s a symphony of flavor, varied notes of spiced fruit and toasted nuts. It’s impossible not to savor it before swallowing its silky sweetness.

“Fuck me, that’s good.” Nicoli moans in appreciation.

“Our grandfather had taste. I’ll give him that.” I close my eyes, taking a second sip, loving the burn as it settles in my stomach, the alcohol easing tension from my muscles.

“So,” Nicoli starts. “Are you ready for this?”

“For what?”

He places his hand on the back of our father’s chair, tapping his finger on the black button-tufted fabric.

“I am. Dad made sure of it.”

“You think Caelian is ready?”

I shrug. “I think so. Dad used to think Caelian doesn’t give a fuck, but I disagree. It’s time for him to be a part of this. He’s changed a lot, grown more trustworthy, reliable…unlike Isaia.”

“Isaia has always been different,” Nicoli remarks, staring at the silver and gold DS symbol on our father’s chair. My chair. “I sometimes wonder if he’s made for this world.”

“He is,” I answer, moving toward the magnolia-colored curtains, staring out the window. “I think he resents the fact that he’s the youngest of four sons, and there are only three seats available at this table. You’ll take mine, and Caelian will take yours. God knows how long it will be before he gets his chance.”

“We could change that.” Nicoli’s tone dips lower. “You can change that.”

A sparrow lands on the outside windowsill, its feather shining under the sun, and I think back to the day my father told me I needed to take a wife. God, I was so fucking angry, unable even to fathom why he made such a ridiculous demand.

Now, in hindsight, knowing how much Leandra’s presence in my life and her support has kept me from drowning the last few days, I realize my father was right.

‘A man’s power is communicated and reflected off his wife’s image.’

Like a fool, I misunderstood. A man’s power does reflect off his wife’s image, but only because he draws his strength from their bond like I’ve drawn my strength from her.

I close my eyes and smile, whispering, “You old bastard. You always knew better.”

I pour myself another drink, and out of habit, I move to sit on my chair when Nicoli stops me, smirking. “This one’s mine. You sit in your own fucking chair.”

It’s surreal as I look at the black chair, the silver and gold DS symbol embroidered on the top. This might be my place now, but it will always be my father’s chair.

We both sit at the table, and it takes me a second to settle.

Nicoli leans back in his seat. “I know we fuck around and take a piss at each other half the time, but now I’m serious. We can change it. You and I both know what a snake Roberto is. And you’ve made it abundantly clear the fucker will be dealt with once Father has passed.”

“Oh, believe me, he’ll be taken care of.” I trace my fingertip along the rim of my glass. “But we have another factor to consider.”

“What?”

I glance at Ricardo’s seat, my other uncle, who has been sitting at Roberto’s side for a while. He’s always been the one with the smallest dick around here, keeping his mouth shut most of the time, never contributing, and always following his older brother’s orders like a little bitch.

“Uncle Ricardo is a problem?” Nicoli’s eyebrows lift, a slight smirk on his face. “The man can hardly take a piss without Roberto holding his fucking hand.

“Exactly. Which means if we take out Roberto, Ricardo has to go too.”

“That’s fine by me. When both of those bastards are gone, there isn’t a Savelli left to take their place. Then the Dark Sovereign will finally be ours, and we no longer have to worry about Roberto’s greedy ass pushing to form other alliances.”

I nod. “That was our father and grandfather’s wish for this family. To keep it strictly family. And that’s what we’ll do. Keep it strictly family. Del Rossa family.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Nicoli slams back the rest of his whiskey just as Caelian strolls in.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he blurts. “You opened Dad’s whiskey, and you fuckers are drinking it without me.”

“Can’t help it if you keep disappearing every five minutes to jerk off, brother.” Nicoli smirks, and I snicker.

“What happened to your face?” Caelian asks as he grabs the bottle and pours himself a glass.

“Isaia happened,” Nicoli answers on my behalf, every word coated with amusement.

“Oh, shit.” Caelian places the bottle back on the table. “He finally figured it out?”

“What? That my little brother is in love with my wife?”

“Yeah. That.”

I sit back. “Leandra thinks it’s bullshit.”

“I kinda do, too.” Caelian shrugs, then points at what used to be Nicoli’s chair, silently asking permission with a cocked brow, and I nod. “See,” he starts as he sits down, “I don’t think he’s in love with her. He cares for her, that’s for sure, but it’s not love. It’s a friendship, and our brother’s dumb little ass is confusing the two because all he knows how to do is think with his dick. So now he thinks he’s in love with her, but he’s not, and now everyone is ready to start World War Three in this house because everything’s just been blown out of proportion.”

Nicoli’s lips curl downward. “Or it’s that.”

“Oh, my God,” I exclaim. “You were the one who brought it up, and now you’re saying you might be wrong?”

“Hey, I only said what you were already thinking, okay?” He taps his finger against his temple. “Twin telepathy.”

“I should have punched you instead of Isaia,” I say dryly.

“Then you’d be going to Italy with more than a busted lip since I can kick your ass with my eyes closed. And what kind of message would that give our good friends in Rome when they see the new leader of the Dark Sovereign managed to get his ass handed to him?”

Both Caelian and Nicoli laughed, and I groaned at the reminder of my trip ahead. We might not have allies in the sense of sharing the Dark Sovereign’s business and making it a fucking democracy, but we do have friends, ones we would go to war with if need be.

“Are you taking her with you?” Nicoli asks, and my migraine starts getting worse.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, if I may give my ten cents here—”

“You may not—”

“—I’d suggest taking her with you. Showcasing your perfect marriage would only amplify the security your leadership will bring to the Dark Sovereign.”

I know he’s right, and it fucking irks me even to think it.

Nicoli gets up and places his hand on my shoulder. “I have no idea what the fine print of your deal is and when she’s supposed to leave, but do what you must so she goes with you next week. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s what Dad would have wanted.”

Sighing, I empty my glass, cringing from the sting. “She’s not.”

Nicoli stills. “She’s not what?”

“She’s not leaving.”

He narrows his eyes. “Does she know that?”

I get up on my feet and button my suit jacket. “Not yet.”