010

DON VINCENZO MARAZONA

I woke up irritated.

Not because Serafina was in my bed.

Because she had somehow managed to spend the entire night beside me looking terrified of accidental movement.

At some point after midnight she must have finally fallen asleep from exhaustion because now she lay curled carefully near the edge of the mattress, hands tucked beneath her cheek like she was afraid taking up too much space might offend me.

The cream nightdress had shifted slightly during the night, exposing one smooth thigh against dark silk sheets that probably cost more than her father’s entire remaining fortune.

The irony was exhausting.

I sat up slowly and reached for the glass of water beside the bed before swallowing the medication left there earlier by the doctor.

Pain management.

Blood pressure.

Another collection of expensive pills designed to delay my funeral.

None of it particularly impressed me anymore.

Beside me, Serafina stirred faintly before freezing the second she realized I was awake.

Interesting.

Most women who woke up in my bed usually wanted something.

Attention.

Jewelry.

Money.

This one looked like she was trying to calculate the safest possible way to exist.

Her eyes slowly lifted toward me. Nervous. Careful.

“Good morning,” she said quietly.

I nodded once. “Morning.”

A brief silence followed.

Then:

“Did you sleep well?”

I stared at her.

“What kind of question is that?”

Her fingers tightened slightly against the blanket. “A normal one?”

“No. A useless one.”

“Oh.”

She immediately looked down.

Christ.

I got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom while loosening the stiffness from my shoulders. Behind me I heard movement followed by suspicious silence.

She was probably trying to decide whether wives were supposed to follow husbands into bathrooms too.

The thought alone irritated me.

By the time I stepped back into the bedroom dressed in black trousers and a dark charcoal shirt, Serafina was sitting near the edge of the bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap like she was attending a funeral service.

“You’re staring again,” I said calmly.

Her eyes widened immediately. “Sorry.”

“You apologized yesterday approximately every thirty seconds. I assumed we moved past that.”

“I’m trying.”

“I can see that. Poorly, but still.”

A faint embarrassed flush spread across her face.

I adjusted the cuffs of my watch before picking up my jacket from the chair.

“You have something to say,” I said while slipping the jacket on. “Say it.”

She hesitated before speaking quietly. “Do you always wake up this serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Another silence.

Then:

“Do mafia people ever smile?”

I looked at her through the mirror.

“Did you just say mafia people?”

Her entire body stiffened instantly.

“No.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how exactly did you mean it?”

She looked seconds away from collapsing.

“I just meant…” She swallowed nervously. “You all look intimidating all the time.”

“That is generally the point.”

She nodded quickly like that answer made perfect sense.

I turned away from the mirror completely and slipped my watch onto my wrist.

“Get dressed. You’re coming with me tonight.”

Serafina looked up immediately. “Where?”

“A family gathering.”

The nervousness returned instantly.

“Oh.”

That tiny sound again.

I was beginning to realize she made it whenever anxiety started crawling through her spine.

“You’ll sit beside me,” I continued calmly. “You’ll speak only when necessary, and you will avoid embarrassing yourself publicly.”

Her lips parted slightly. “That sounds stressful.”

“It is.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

For a second she simply stared at me like she genuinely could not understand how someone could speak this bluntly without shame.

Then the faintest reaction touched her face.

Not amusement exactly.

Closer to disbelief.

I moved toward the bedroom doors before pausing briefly.

“And Serafina?”

“Yes?”

“The next time you sleep beside me, stop acting like I’m about to cut your head off.”

Her cheeks turned pink instantly.

“Oh… okay.”

“And try sleeping normally next time. You spent the entire night stiff as a corpse.”

“I was nervous.”

“I noticed.”

She looked embarrassed all over again before quietly slipping past me and hurrying out of the room clutching the edge of her dress.

The second the doors shut behind her, silence returned.

Thank God.

I rubbed slowly at the tension building behind my neck before leaving the suite and heading toward my office. Staff members immediately moved out of my path while guards stationed throughout the hallways straightened the moment they noticed me approaching.

Routine.

Fear kept large organizations functioning properly.

By the time I reached my office, Matteo was nowhere to be found.

Interesting.

I stepped inside anyway, tossed the morning files onto the desk, and loosened the cuff of my left sleeve while scanning through shipment reports from the southern ports.

Ten minutes later, the office doors opened quickly and Matteo entered carrying a tablet beneath one arm.

“You’re late,” I said without looking up.

“You’re married,” he replied smoothly while shutting the doors behind him. “I assumed delays were inevitable.”

I looked at him flatly.

Matteo wisely moved on immediately.

“The Palermo accounts have been stabilized,” he said while placing several folders across the desk. “However, the council members are already asking questions about the cathedral incident.”

Powerful families survived on information the same way sharks survived on blood.

“What kind of questions?”

“Mostly regarding the legitimacy of the marriage and whether the De Lucas intentionally insulted the family.”

“They did.”

Matteo nodded once like he expected that answer.

“And the gathering tonight?” I asked.

“Everyone confirmed attendance.”

Wonderful.

That meant the entire extended Marazona bloodline would be under one roof tonight.

Uncles.

Cousins.

Captains.

Political allies.

Parasites pretending to be relatives.

Half the people attending would smile at me while privately calculating how quickly the empire would split apart once I died.

I leaned back slightly in the chair. “Message my brother.”

Matteo hesitated.

I noticed immediately.

“What?”

“You still have him blocked.”

Right.

I stared at him for a long second.

“Why?” Matteo asked carefully.

“Because he’s irritating.”

“That does narrow it down much.”

Before I could answer, the office doors opened without warning.

Mother walked in wearing black silk and enough diamonds to fund a small war. Cigarette smoke curled lazily around her as she crossed the room like she owned the building.

Technically, she probably believed she did.

“Cenzo,” she said dramatically. “You need to call your brother. He is breaking my heart.”

“Mother.” I nodded once. “Good morning.”

She ignored that completely.

“Luca is still refusing my calls.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

Mother looked offended immediately. “He is your only brother.”

“He is twenty-six years old,” I replied calmly. “If Luca chooses to disappear into whatever irresponsible lifestyle currently entertains him, that is his decision.”

“And he is still my son.”

She dropped elegantly into the chair across from my desk before pointing her cigarette toward me accusingly.

“I haven’t seen him in two years, Vincenzo. Two years. If he misses tonight’s family gathering, I swear to God I will kill myself simply to ruin your peace permanently.”

I stared at her.

“Are you threatening me?”

“You’re the Don,” she replied coolly. “Figure it out.”

I leaned back slowly in the chair.

“Mother, I am terminally ill. I genuinely do not have the energy for emotional manipulation this early in the morning.”

“Cenzo!”

Matteo quietly turned toward the windows, very clearly pretending this conversation was not happening.

Mother pointed her cigarette toward him next.

“Find Luca and drag him here before ten tonight.”

Matteo straightened immediately. “Understood, Don.”

Mother smiled with satisfaction before looking back toward me.

“See? This is why you remain my favorite child.”

“You say that like Luca ever competed for the position.”

“He stopped competing when he vanished to whatever disgusting country he currently lives in.”

“He’s in Monaco.”

Mother waved one hand dismissively. “Same thing.”

I rubbed slowly at my temple while Matteo quietly pretended paperwork had suddenly become fascinating.

Then Mother’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“The maids informed me your wife slept in your room last night.”

Of course they did.

I leaned back calmly. “And?”

“And?” Mother echoed dramatically. “That is all you have to say?”

“What exactly would you like me to contribute to this conversation?”

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps details.”

Matteo immediately turned toward the windows again.

Coward.

“We did not have sex,” I said flatly. “If that is what you’re trying to investigate.”

Mother looked genuinely disappointed.

“Why not?”

I stared at her.

“You are asking far too many questions about my bedroom.”

“She doesn’t appeal to you?”

The irritation hit instantly.

“She is still my wife, Mother,” I said calmly. “You will speak about her properly.”

That earned me a very long look.

Then slowly—

Mother smiled.

“Oh,” she murmured softly. “She’s already become your wife.”

I said nothing.

Because correcting that statement would require energy I did not currently possess.

Mother leaned back elegantly in the chair while smoke curled lazily around her diamonds.

“How unexpected.”

“There is nothing unexpected about basic respect.”

“No,” she agreed lightly. “But there is something very unexpected about you defending another person before breakfast.”

Matteo made the catastrophic mistake of coughing into his fist to hide what was very clearly almost laughter.

I looked at him once.

He immediately looked near death.

Mother, unfortunately, looked delighted now.

“Perhaps marriage is softening you after all, Cenzo.”

“If marriage softened me, the De Lucas would still be breathing comfortably.”

“Fair point.”

Silence settled briefly across the office before Mother spoke again, calmer this time.

“Before you die, at least leave this family an heir.”

The room went still.

Matteo lowered his eyes immediately.

Smart man.

I looked at Mother for several long seconds while the dull ache beneath my ribs sharpened unpleasantly.

Trust her to discuss death like she was reminding me about dinner reservations.

“You continue speaking very confidently about my funeral,” I said flatly.

“You continue surviving out of spite,” she replied smoothly. “Clearly we both have coping mechanisms.”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

Mother rose gracefully from the chair before smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her silk dress.

“The family gathering begins at 10 tonight,” she reminded me. “Do try not to terrify your wife too badly before then. The poor girl already looks one loud noise away from cardiac arrest.”

“That is not my fault.”

“It becomes your problem once she carries your last name.”