By Fate I Conquer: Chapter 8

“Okay, this is the third time you’re zoning out on me today. What is wrong with you?”

I focused on my best friend who stood in front of the biker hanging from chains in the ceiling of our holding cell. He was one of the few surviving supporters of the man who’d kidnapped my sister years ago. Maddox had caught him with Primo’s help yesterday and killed another. Blood was dripping down the guy’s face and chest. He’d passed out.

“Nothing.” I sheathed my knife and went over to the sink in the corner where a bucket with cold water waited for instances like this.

Maximus stepped back as I flung the water at the guy. He jerked, his eyes flying open but then they rolled back again and he sagged forward once more. As future Capo, torturing wasn’t the top of my priorities but with bikers I gladly made an exemption.

“Should I get adrenaline?”

I nodded absentmindedly but my mind was far away. Thousands of miles to the west. I could barely focus on anything else than the girl I’d left without a goodbye two weeks ago.

“Do you want me to continue without you?”

“No,” I snapped and took pliers from the table in the corner. Maximus injected the adrenaline into the man’s veins and soon he stirred.

My phone rang with a reminder. I took it out of my back pocket and glanced at the screen, then froze. It had struck midnight and my phone reminded me that it was May 15th, Greta’s birthday.

“Who’s G?” Maximus asked with a curious glint in his eyes as he stepped up beside me.

I had completely forgotten that I’d put the reminder into my phone shortly after I’d left Vegas’ two weeks ago. I wasn’t sure why the fuck I’d done it. But back then I’d just wanted to remember Greta’s birthday.

Maximus wiped his hands and leaned against the wall beside me. “That is a look I’ve never seen on your face.”

I turned to him. “What kind of look?”

Maximus grimaced, shook his head as if it was something dirty he had to say. “Never mind.”

“Spill, Maximus.”

“It’s the look my father has when he looks at my mother.”

I stared, then scoffed. But my heart sped up completely uncharacteristically. I clicked the reminder away but it stayed locked inside my brain.

Maximus continued staring as if he could x-ray information out of me.

“She’s no one.” The words rang wrong.

Maximus’ gaze didn’t waver. “So G’s a she.”

I raised my finger in warning. “Drop it, all right?”

“It can’t be Cressida. You don’t have a cutesy name for her that starts with G and it’s not her birthday. The closest thing to an endearment you’ve used for her was bitch.”

Why couldn’t he drop it? I usually shared almost everything with him, but I hadn’t mentioned my encounters with Greta with a single word. To no one.

“Have you found an affair so you can bear being married to Cressida?”

“She’s not an affair.”

The protective note in my voice was unmistakable and really piqued Maximus’ interest. “You’re in trouble.”

I was.

“It’s Greta’s birthday today.”

“Greta?” Maximus’ eyes flitted with a hint of recognition but then disbelief wiped away that look. Of course, he wouldn’t believe it.

“Greta Falcone.”

Maximus stared, waiting for the joke.

Cackling filled the cell. Both Maximus and I turned toward our captive. He gave me a toothy grin. “How sweet. The Vitiello giant got a taste of Camorra whore pussy.”

Static filled my ears as rage boiled up.

“Amo!”

I moved across the room before Maximus could react. I pulled my knife, grabbed the man’s long, greasy hair so he met my gaze and rammed the blade with such force into his abdomen that I wondered if my fist was inside his bowels. I smirked down at his agony-ridden face, wide eyes and blood-sputtering mouth. I jerked the blade upward, opening him up.

He sagged forward again but this time adrenaline wouldn’t bring him back. Stepping back, I slid the knife out. With a splash, part of his bowels dropped to the floor.

When I turned, Maximus was staring at me as if he’d never seen me before. “We were supposed to question him.”

“We did. We’ll catch another one.”

I went over to the sink and washed my hands and knife, then changed my shirt. My pants were black. Nobody would notice blood on them. “Stop staring,” I growled when Maximus still hadn’t moved. “Call someone to clean up this mess.”

“The mess you caused because you went berserk on behalf of a Falcone’s honor?”

I left him standing in the cell and headed out, toward my car, a black Mercedes G-Class. When I turned on the engine, Maximus slipped in, plopping down on the passenger seat. “Cleaning crew is on the way.”

I nodded and pulled away from the warehouse.

“Amo.”

I sent him a warning look. Unfortunately, we’d been friends for too long for it to have the effect it had on everyone else.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he muttered with a shrug. “I’m just going to assume the worst. That you fucked one of the most off-limit girls in the goddamn country and war will be upon us very soon.”

I rammed my fist down on the steering wheel, hitting the honk by accident and making the car in front of me swerve. “Do not talk of her like that.”

Maximus raised one dark brow. I glanced back to the street and shook my head. My chest was burning with emotions that I didn’t want and had never felt.

“Wouldn’t that be perfect for your family? You could be Capo of the Camorra.” Maximus’ father Growl was Remo’s half-brother, older than the Camorra Capo, but illegitimate and thus never considered as Capo.

Maximus’ expression twisted. “My father never wanted that position and neither do I. I’m happy with my place.”

“I didn’t sleep with her. I haven’t even kissed her,” I murmured.

“But you want to.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” I admitted, needing to get it out, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. And it wasn’t even the whole truth. What I wanted from Greta was far more than physical. I wanted her in every regard. I was a condemned fucker. How could a single moment in time shift everything so drastically? One fleeting glance at the girl in the tutu…what if I’d just walked by instead to stop? My life would be so much easier right now, but I couldn’t regret spotting her.

Maximus leaned his head against the seat, staring up at the ceiling, blowing out a long breath. “I don’t have to tell you that there’s no way in hell you can have her.”

“Is that so?” I asked in a low voice.

Maximus turned his head, looking honestly concerned. “You can have almost any girl, why pick the one you can’t?”

I hadn’t picked her. I had lain eyes on her and had been a goner. Fuck, if I knew how that was possible.

“Your father won’t cancel the wedding to Cressida four weeks before it’s supposed to happen. He’s the most respected and feared Capo there’s ever been and you are on your way to become just as feared and respected, but trust me when I say that it would cause too much uproar in the Famiglia if your family did this. The Traditionalists won’t turn the other cheek this time. The thing with Marcella, the bloody sheets, the biker, her induction that was already a very hard slap.”

Maximus as a soldier heard the voices of discord that stayed silent when I or Dad were close. I trusted his judgment.

I nodded. I knew he was right. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want to listen to reason.

“Not to mention that there’s absolutely zero chance that Remo Falcone will give his daughter to you.”

Nevio would neither. He’d kill me before he’d let me have her.

“I could kidnap her like Remo did with his wife.”

I didn’t sound as joking as I thought I would, and I realized part of me would consider doing it. I parked the car in front of the Sphere. Maximus and I often came her after torture sessions to dance away the remaining adrenaline and pick up a girl or two.

When I turned off the engine, I noticed Maximus watching me. I arched a brow.

“The Falcones will burn down New York and every city on the way.”

I chuckled darkly. It would serve Remo right. Fear of his reaction was not why I would never kidnap Greta. She, she was the reason.

“I need to get rid of Cressida somehow.”

I hopped out of the car and Maximus followed me. “And then what?”

I shrugged. Once Cressida wasn’t a problem anymore, I’d figure out what to do about the Falcones. We walked past the long line waiting to be allowed in, and with a wave at the two bouncers stepped into the club. The crowd parted as they always did when I and Maximus appeared somewhere. The admiring and lusting looks of the girls I’d always basked in pearled right off me.

We settled in a VIP booth and ordered a bottle of Clase Azul Tequila. Maximus and I clinked glasses before we downed our first shot.

Then I lounged back against the leather cushions.

“How are you going to do it?”

“Not kill her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Maximus looked indifferent. “She won’t vanish into thin air.”

“Maybe we can discredit her. If she slept with someone before we married, I could dump her.”

Maximus narrowed his eyes as he propped his tattooed forearms up on his thighs. “I hope you’re not thinking about me.”

“She knows you’re my best friend and would know it’s a trap.”

“Good,” he said and filled our glasses again. “I don’t think she’ll be stupid enough to let any guy fuck her, not so close to her ultimate goal.”

He was probably right. I’d ignored Cressida in the last few years, hoping she’d grow tired and find someone else. But even as I fucked one girl, or more than one at once, after the other and never bothered to be discreet about it, she just accepted it, because it wasn’t me as a person that she wanted. She wanted a Capo.

“Are you sure it’s about Greta? And not you having cold feet because you have to marry Cressida?”

I smiled bitterly. I’d made my fucking peace with marrying Cressida before I’d met Greta. My life wouldn’t have changed because of marriage. I’d still have fucked around, worked all day and done whatever the fuck I wanted. The only thing that would have changed was that I would have started fucking Cressida again as well.

Maximus’ eyes were drawn to something behind us. I turned to see three girls heading our way. One of them was carrying a bowl with lime wedges, the other a salt shaker. With flirty grins, they presented them to us and set them down on the table.

Maximus stifled a smile at the look on my face.

“We saw you were missing something,” the blond girl said.

“Something to ruin a $500 bottle of Tequila with?” I asked, leaning back with narrowed eyes.

The girls exchanged uncertain looks. Maximus waved a waiter over and ordered a bottle of standard Tequila. He draped his arm over the backrest, spreading his legs. Two girls perched on his thighs as if on cue. The third hovered beside me. What if Maximus was right?

I patted my leg and she sank down with a bright smile. Then she grabbed a wedge and salt. I knew what was coming because Maximus was already busy licking salt and lime off the nipples of the two other girls. My life was good. Fucking great, even with Cressida in the picture, so why the fuck was I complicating things with someone like Greta?

The blond girl tugged down the top of her dress and dripped lime juice on her tit. Her nipple hardened and she grinned cheekily when she scattered salt on it.

In the crowd, I saw one of the photographers who always caught me in the worst moments. “Get up,” I ordered the girl on my lap. She blinked but obeyed immediately.

I reached for the expensive Tequila then hooked my fingers in the top of the girl’s dress and tugged hard, ripping it all the way until it tumbled to the floor. The girl let out a little cry. Before she could react, I spilled Tequila down the girl’s front. Her eyes grew wide as the liquid spilled down her tits, belly and drenched her thong.

The Sphere was famous for its scandals. Not all of them were caused by me.

Grabbing her ass, I pulled her toward me and licked the liquid off her thigh, belly and tits. Everyone’s attention was on us. She gripped my head, obviously soaking it up like a sponge. “More.”

I ripped away her thong and let the tequila run between her legs. I sucked some salt of her nipple, licked over a lime and then sucked the Tequila off her pussy. I prayed that Greta wouldn’t see any of this, but she hadn’t even been aware of my upcoming marriage so chances were she never paid attention to New York gossip.

This would make headline. If Cressida had an ounce of self-respect, she’d call things off.

I took two Advil. I’d had too much Tequila last night and when my alarm had rung this morning, after only four hours of sleep, I’d regretted last night thoroughly. Dragging myself out of my bedroom, I sank down at the kitchen island and blankly stared at the Manhattan skyline. I took out my phone and regarded it for a long time. What I was going to do was risky and stupid…

Three hours later, I was still at the kitchen island, drinking my third cup of coffee. The elevator beeped and the doors slid open. Only very few people had the code to my apartment. Matteo and Gianna who lived in the penthouse above me, my parents and sister. I’d moved into the place two years ago. Before that it had been vacant since Maximus and his family had moved out to live in a house outside of the city center.

Heavy steps sounded and a newspaper landed on the table in front of me.

“That’s what your mother saw when she read the newspaper during breakfast this morning.”

I grimaced when I saw a photo of me sitting in front of a naked girl, my face buried in her pussy. Of course, her tits and pussy had been blurred for it to be published, but it was still very obvious what I was doing.

I was glad that I didn’t live at home anymore and didn’t have to see Mom’s face when she saw this. When I’d messaged her this morning, she hadn’t mentioned anything.

Dad sank down across from me. I dragged my eyes up to look into his pissed face. “Men in our world are given plenty of leeway, you as a Vitiello even more, but this is too much. Your wedding to Cressida is only a few weeks away and even if you don’t respect her, you’ll at least have to pretend in public.”

“Maybe she’ll get tired of me being an asshole and cancels the wedding.”

“That’s not going to happen. She wants you for your power, not your pleasant personality.” Dad shook his head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“How bad would it be if we canceled the wedding now?”

Dad’s expression gave a very unmistakable answer.

“Amo, you took Cressida’s virginity in revenge. Do you even realize what kind of backlash we’d face if you don’t marry her, not to mention that it would be absolutely dishonorable to drop her like a hot potato only weeks before the wedding, when everything is already booked and planned.”

I nodded, because I knew it was true. Our men forgave many things but fucking their daughters without marrying them wasn’t one of them. Still, the idea of marrying Cressida when every fiber of my body longed for Greta seemed like the worst torture. Dad and I had discussed this before but I’d never felt this deep certainty that I’d hate every moment of being with Cressida, that it would be the worst torture I could imagine, because it meant I wouldn’t be able to be with Greta.

“You despise Cressida, don’t pretend otherwise,” I gritted out.

Dad chuckled. “I won’t. She’s a gold digger. You weren’t careful and she used your weakness against you.”

She had. And she would keep looking for other openings to get me to do what she wanted. Marriage with her would always be a power play, always mean I’d have to watch my back and live with a shield around myself in my own home.

Dad sighed. “Keep this apartment, live here most of the time. While Antonaci can expect you to marry her, he doesn’t care if you share a roof with her all the time as long as she’s protected and you get her pregnant at some point. You can keep living your life. Nobody expects you to be faithful.”

“You’re faithful to Mom.”

“You can’t compare your mother to Cressida, and I want to be faithful.”

If Greta were mine, I’d want to be faithful too.