Dark Mafia Heir: Chapter 10

“It’s not too late to call the wedding off,” Dario says, his brows knitted with concern. “She’s Peter Cole’s daughter. She could end up betraying you.”

My lips curl with a smile. “It’s my wedding evening, Dario. Of course, it is too late to call off the wedding,” I muse. “Besides, I’ll need to trust her for her to betray me. She’s a prisoner here, nothing more.”

There’s a moment of silence in the room as I dress my suit in front of the tall mirror in my closet. When I turn around, I notice that all of them have their eyes on me and their brows raised.

“Is that what you tell yourself? That she is nothing more than a prisoner to you?” Dario asks, still wearing the same confused expression on his face. “No man marries a woman just because she is his prisoner, Nio. You like her.”

I spin around to face him with a frown. I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me. “Careful, brother. Dante is dead because of her father. It will be a snowy day in hell before I fall in love with that girl.”

“You sound like you’re in denial. Does Mariana know about this?”

I start to fix my cufflinks—Dante bought me those cufflinks on my thirty-sixth birthday. They’re silver, and the first letter of my name is carved in italics right in the middle.

I’d never worn them because they’re not my style, but now I regret that he never got the chance to see me wear them. It’s my way of carrying him with me—my way of letting him know his death was not in vain because I’ll be sending his killers to hell soon.

“Mariana knows.” I couldn’t risk her hearing about it from someone else. Despite her grief, I knew she’d try to stop me, so I only sent her a text.

“And she’s okay with this?” Dario asks, his brows furrowing with confusion.

“I don’t know if she is, and it won’t matter if she isn’t.”

Dario opens his mouth to argue, but I raise my hand to mark the end of the conversation. My revenge starts tonight, and I don’t want to waste any more of my energy arguing over something irrelevant.

There’s a knock on the door before it’s pushed open, and Luca saunters inside. “The priest is waiting, boss,” he says.

“And my bride?” I ask.

“She’s waiting, too. You have to be at the altar first,” Luca tells me.

I nod, my lips curling with a smile as I imagine my bride in one of the wedding gowns I picked out for her. I’d also booked a hairstylist and a makeup artist. What is a wedding if she doesn’t look perfect?

Turning to Dario, my brow quirks. “Are you coming, or will you stand there and nag me about my choices?”

He sighs. “Let’s go. Ginny’s waiting, too.”

I narrow my eyes on him, surprised that he would bring his wife along despite the occasion. “Ginny?”

“Yeah. I told her about it and she insisted,” he answers, looking a bit disappointed himself that she is here.

“Looks like I have a lot of women who’ll try to kill me on my wedding day,” I muse.

Dario shakes his head with pity. “Just in case any of them confronts you, I advised you not to do this.”

I chuckle and part his shoulder. “You advised me to do this.”

His grumbling follows me as I leave the room and start down the stairs leading to the patio, and then his footsteps follow.

The patio is decorated with pink and white flowers and ribbons. The aisle is lined with chairs covered in ribbons at both sides, and from the corner of my eyes, I catch a glimpse of someone who shouldn’t be here.

Salvatore Russo, head of the Camorra. We’d been at cold war for years since Dante became the capo, and neither of our families had bothered to form an alliance or even cross each other’s territories now.

“Which one of you invited that old bastard to my wedding?” I ask, my gaze bouncing from Luca and Lorenzo to Dario.

None of them answer.

I’ve tried to keep this wedding a secret from those outside my alliance group. If Salvatore is here, it means one of my men snitched, and I have to find out who it was before the rat gives out more information to my enemies.

Lorenzo leans in. “I can ask him to leave.”

I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary.”

While I am certain Peter and Salvatore are far from allies, I cannot poke Salvatore in the wrong rib. I can’t risk him running to Peter to run his mouth.

The fact that he dared to come here means he wants something, my attention, or perhaps a deal.

Whichever one it is, I have to hear him out first and weigh my options.

Salvatore smiles and waves at me from where he stands across the patio.

I walk over to him, wearing the fakest smile I can find. “Well, well, if it isn’t the devil himself.”

He scoffs, taking me in with so much arrogance in his eyes.

I clench my fist, fighting the urge to gauge those ugly eyes of his out.

“For someone who kidnapped a girl from her engagement dinner and is forcing said girl to marry him,” Salvatore says, “you’re more of a devil than I’ll ever be.”

I snort. Sick bastard. “Why are you here?”

“Let me see.” He taps his thin, wrinkled lips and pretends to think. “I wonder what Peter’s reaction will be when he finds out about this little wedding of yours.”

I stare him down, cursing at the way he gets on my last nerves with such little effort. I drop the façade of a smile and wear my cold mask. “It is not a wise choice to threaten me in my own home, Salvatore.”

“Threaten you?” He tsks. “I wouldn’t dare. I am here to offer a proposal.”

I spot Mariana standing with Dario and Ginny. It’s a struggle not to let my attention drift to them. “This proposal of yours better be worth my time.”

Salvatore chuckles. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the ongoing war between the Bratva and the Irish Mob.”

“What about it?”

His brows shoot up to his receding hairline. “You may not be aware, but Malachy encroached on my territory eight years ago. There’s no better time for me to get back at him than now.”

I heave a sigh as disgust creeps up my throat. The bastard may not notice, but I’m bored of this conversation. “How do I come in the mix?”

He smiles. “Good question. You’re closer to the Irish territories than I am. I need you to help me take it.”

My horselaugh escapes from my throat. “Me? I didn’t realize we’d established the type of relationship where we help each other, Salvatore. That’s impressive!”

“Think of everything we could have,” he urges in a near whisper. “We could run this world together, Antonio. We could find Dante’s killer as quickly as we could snap our fingers. Everything will be ours, you and me.”

My nostrils flare at the mention of Dante’s name from his filthy mouth. “Don’t ever mention his name again. Dante would be turning in his grave if he knew this stupid plan of yours.”

“Watch it, boy⁠—”

“No. You fucking watch it!” I growl. I don’t give a fuck if all eyes are on us now. “Don’t forget on whose ground you stand. I am not Dante; I can make you vanish with just a snap of my finger.”

As much as I respected Dante, he was weak and reluctant to shed blood. He trusted easily and could hardly recognize a viper smiling at him. That became his undoing.

I am different, though, because I won’t hesitate to shed blood or start a war if that is what I’ll need to achieve whatever the fuck I want.

Salvatore’s eyes are red with rage, but he knows better than to act on it. “Careful, you might regret this.”

“Regret does not exist in my books, old man.” I point my right index finger at him. “And let me warm you. You’re a dead man if words of what is happening here get to Peter Cole.”

His throat moves as he swallows, his chest heaving so hard I can almost hear the pounding of his heart. So this is what a mix of false bravery, rage, and fear looks like.

I hear light footsteps as someone walks up to me and stands at my back. “She’s coming down in a couple of minutes,” Lorenzo says.

“Now, If you don’t mind, I’d like to excuse myself. Enjoying the wedding,” I grin cockily at Salvatore.

I feel the scorch of his glare burning through the back of my head as I head to the altar.

“What does he want?” Lorenzo asks.

“He wants to take over the Irish territories, and he needs my alliance to do it,” I reply.

Lorenzo is silent for a moment. “What did you tell him?”

“I turned down the madness, Lorenzo. What was I supposed to do? Jump at the offer and become his ally?” I know Salvatore’s nature more than I can recognize my own shadow. Only a fool will fall for his sweet words about alliance and whatnot. That fucker will kill me and try to take over my territory the moment he gets what he wants.

The door leading to the foyer opens, and everyone turns their attention to it as someone announces the bride’s entrance. Suddenly, everywhere is quiet as anticipation hangs in the air.

My chest flutters at the thought of how beautiful Vivienne would be in whatever gown she put on, which is strange because I have never felt that sort of sensation before.

She steps into view, and it’s like the whole world narrows down to just her.

Her dress is this perfect white, the kind of white that makes everything else look dull in comparison. It flows around her as she walks, hugging her body in all the right places, yet falling so gracefully that she almost seems to glide down the aisle.

The lace on her sleeves and the crusts of diamonds on the skirt catch the light, delicate and intricate, just like her.

Her hair is pinned up, a few loose curls framing her face, and her veil trails behind her, soft and sheer, like something out of a dream.

She’s beautiful in a way that stops me cold. It’s like she’s looking right at me, and she isn’t even smiling, yet my chest tightens with the weight of it all, the beauty, the realization that this woman is mine.

I may not have her fully—yet—still, she is mine.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and there’s this moment—just us in the middle of everything.

The crowd, the music, the decorations, it all fades away. All I can see is her, moving toward me, step by step. She looks perfect. No, not just perfect. She looks like she was meant to be here with me in this moment.

Every second feels like it stretches forever, and yet it’s over too fast. She’s closer now, only a few steps away, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want her in this moment.

Dario’s words start to ring in my head.

“You like her.”

Maybe he wasn’t wrong, and I really do like her. But in the mix of it all, there is deep, seething hatred and resentment.

I hate her for being Peter’s daughter, and she hates me for stealing her away and forcing her into this marriage. She’ll kill me if she has a chance, yet I can’t stop looking at her and wishing all of this was real.

She reaches where I’m standing, and I extend a hand to her.

Vivienne stares down at my hand, and then she glares at me before reluctantly taking my hand and following me to the altar.

“You’re beautiful in that dress,” I whisper to her.

She snorts with derision and rolls her eyes. “You’ll be beautiful with a knife in your heart,” she whispers back.

We both face the priest, and the old man smiles at us before he begins his sermon.

“That’s not a nice thing to say to your husband,” I tease. “We’ll be married in a couple of minutes. You should learn to be nice.”

She huffs out a sigh, and her teeth dig into her lower lips. “Stealing women and forcing them to marry you is not nice, but here we are, husband.”

I chuckle at the meanness in her tone as she drags out the word husband. I’m glad to see her fierce spirit hasn’t died down yet. She’s not the type to give up even when she’s been defeated.

“Women? You’re the only woman I’ve ever stolen, gattina,” I say, inching closer to her. She smells so good and something inside me is itching to just breathe her in.

“You sound proud of yourself.”

“I am,” I agree. “Taking you away from that restaurant is one of the best things I’ve done. I don’t regret it.”

She hisses. “That’s a weird thing to be proud of, but I’m sure you’ll regret it soon.”

I’m about to reply when the priest calls for our rings.

Luca steps forward with them.

We exchange our vows, and though I expect Vivienne to be hesitant, she doesn’t even stutter as she says her.

To anyone watching from the outside, they’d think she’s just accepted her fate. But I know her too well to think so. She’s probably planning a million ways to kill me, and I’m boiling with excitement as I anticipate what her methods will be.

The guests start to clap when the priest pronounces us husband and wife, and says, “You may kiss your bride.”