Vows & Violence: The Mafia King's Two-Faced Wife.

KILLIAN Today was the day. I drank straight from the brandy bottle, I was so irritated I could hardly breathe. "What's bothering you? Care to share?" Stella asked as she rubbed her body against mine. Handing her the bottle, I leaned back against the bed rest and watched her pour the liquor down her throat. God, I was going to miss that throat of hers, but I have to end it here. "I'm very sad today." She said, frowning when I took the bottle back. If only she would leave after our 'meetings', but there was no point in kicking her out today. Our meetings were officially over from today, or else my mum would demand my balls, and my dad would ensure she had them. "What's this girl's name again?" Stella asked, rolling on top of me. "Lucia Nicci Moretti," I said, taking another swing out of the bottle. She pouted, and it was ugly. Most of her expressions were ugly, but I didn't keep her around for her face or her brain, for that matter. "Arranged marriages are so arcaic. How can you marry a girl you have never met before? You don't even know what she looks like. What if she is ugly? "The Morettis are one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful family in Italy and most of the west coast. My dad wants to end the bad blood between the Irish and the Italians. So even if she is fat, ugly, or covered in warts, I will do my duty and marry her." Pushing her off me, I rose to my feet. Ronan, my father, had spoken of this marriage for the past fifteen years. I was only eighteen and wanted to prove my worth to my dad, so I was willing to do anything to make him proud, just like a bloody i***t. I should have just let my cousin, Rafael marry her, but he had already hacked into the Pentagon and found himself an arm candy, making my dad proud, Finn, my younger brother was a child then and was not even a prospect for marriage. Like all sons, we were willing to do anything to make our dads proud, but like I said before, I was a bloody i***t. "You could just marry me, you know. I'm one-quarter Italian, " she laughed, rolling around in the bed. I looked at the bed in disgust, I was going to have to burn the sheets or maybe get a new bed. "Not even if hell froze, and my mum was buried six feet." I replied, grabbing a towel from the cabinet. "But why not?" She yelled, grabbing the sheets to cover her chest, like there was any modesty to protect . I looked her dead in the eyes and said, "Because you are a floozy w***e, a woman of no importance or brains with nothing good to note but a good ass and a deep throat." Walking over to her, I grabbed her chin and kissed the side of her face, "But don't be sad, we all have our roles to play, and you have done yours. Your services will no longer be needed." Letting go of her, I grabbed a few bills from my wallet and threw it in her direction. "I'm not a prostitute" she said holding back a sob. I smirked at that. "Yet, you will still take the money anyway." Heading to the bathroom, I turned back to her and said, "Pack yourself, babes and if you think of taking anything other than the money, I will not hesitate to kill you, sweet throat or not." I meant every word I said. I am a Romano. Our word was law in Chicago. Even the police don't bother with us anymore. Hearing the door open and shut with a bang, I smiled to myself as I jumped into the shower. Lucia Nicci Moretti. Did she like showers or baths? I didn't care, but that just proves that I know nothing about her, other than her birthday, November 15, 2003, and a few small facts. Her father kept everything else hidden. One would think she was raised under a rock. There were no pictures of her anywhere, no social media handles, or even a receipt with her name on it. She had stayed hidden for years and only emerged recently, and yet she was still moved in secret. It made sense, though. If I had a daughter, I would also keep her hidden, there are some f***s in the world who don't understand what it means to be an offspring of a powerful mafia leader. Family was everything. My dad made sure to drill that into our heads since we were kids. Stepping out of the bathroom, there stood my father, brother and cousin, all dressed in the finest suits money could buy. "Did you read the files I sent you or were you too busy with your w***e?" My dad said glowering at the files on my desk. "He probably stopped when he saw no pictures" Rafael grinned from the door as Finn snickered. "I don't give a f**k what her favorite colour is, or where she schooled or if she had a pet dog. The one thing I needed to know was not in the files, for all I know, Lucia Nicci Moretti could be a f*****g Italian horse." Wrapping a black tie around my neck, both Rafael and Finn snorted at my comment as my father stood watching me with a scowl on his face. "The first and last time I saw Lucia, she was skeet shooting while her dad and I discussed this contract in his office. Not even once did that dark little head miss, and she was thirteen, then." My father said. "I'm I supposed to be impressed, nervous, or elated? Thank God, she knows how to shoot skeet." I replied sarcastically, "she is still a woman like any other." Noise came up right behind my bedroom door. It was followed by pounding against the door, I sighed in exasperation. "Killian, hurry up. You have to meet Mr. Moretti in an hour and bring your bride home." Rafael's wife, Lisa, yelled from the other side of the door. There had to be a limit of boundaries an in-law could cross. "Handle your woman," I told him. Their union made no sense to me, Rafael was quiet, calm, and paler than snow, while Lisa, on the other hand, was loud and outgoing. My father had been against them when he found out she was not Irish, but then he came into acceptance with it since my mother was also half Irish. "Her father killed every rival Italian and Irish family within a hundred-mile ratio, before taking over their streets," my father started, taking my mind off Rafael and his wife and reminding me why we needed to go through with this contract. "By the time we had figured it out, the west coast was already cut off to us. None of our products could get in or out without getting busted, the son of a b***h is now working his way south, towards the Mexican cartels." "Italians always had to spread their s**t and put their names on everything." I replied under my breath. My bedroom door opened, and then Lisa, Hailey, and my mother flooded into the room. "None of you were invited–" Hailey laughed, "We saw your b***h running out of here in tears and figured you were getting ready." "If you care about your wives, you would get them away from this room as soon as possible." I gritted my teeth at Rafael and Finn, who stood there grinning like fools. "Are you threathening my daughters?" My mother asked. "Of course, mum, like always," Lisa and Hailey said in unison as they stood behind my mother. My mother narrowed her grey eyes at me, her signature silent warning. I used my eyes to also plead with her. "Those damed eyes of yours." She mummered, and I smirked. "Ladies and Gents, I think we have already had our fill for now. Let's leave the boy to get dressed in peace." She said, directing everyone to exit my room. I scowled at the 'boy' comment but stayed slient for them to exit my room without causing a commotion. I need to marry this Lucia Moretti as soon as possible. You will never be seen as a real Irish man until you have a wife. Without one, I would never gain the respect of my mother. I had the respect and fear of my men and siblings because of how I ruled our organisation but my mother doesn't give a f**k about that. I will marry this girl and shape her into a woman fit to rule by my side. With her family's power added to my own, I would own it all before I was thirty. The thought of that and what the future held, got my c**k hard. Thankfully, from what I read in the files, she already knows what her family does. I didn't have time to train her on what to expect and why my shirt would be bloody sometimes. I straightened my tie before reaching for my gun and placing my silver knuckles in my pocket. I opened my door to my father, hovering over it. He looked me up and down and nodded in approval. He always says, "Just because you sell drugs for a living doesn't mean you shouldn't dress well."