011

Don Vincenzo Marazona

I walked into Serafina’s room for the first time.

The door was already open. Two maids were fussing around her like she was made of glass. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and just watched.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror in nothing but lace panties and a strapless bra, looking every bit like a frightened little doll someone had dressed up for slaughter. Delicate. Fragile. Too fucking innocent for a man like me.

The emerald gown was halfway on, clinging to her slim waist and hips. Her skin glowed from whatever oils they’d rubbed into her. Hair pinned up, exposing that long, pale neck I suddenly wanted to mark with my teeth.

One of the maids noticed me first and nearly dropped the necklace in her hands.

“Don Vincenzo—”

“Out,” I said flatly.

Both maids scurried away without another word, closing the door behind them.

Serafina turned slightly, eyes wide when she realized I was alone with her. Her arms instinctively moved to cover herself even though she was already half-dressed.

I pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her slowly.

She stayed rooted in place like a deer caught in headlights.

I stopped right behind her. The zipper of the gown was still open. I reached out, dragged it up with deliberate slowness, letting my knuckles graze every inch of her spine. She shivered violently under my touch.

My hands settled on her waist, fingers digging into the soft curve there. Possessive. Testing.

Then I turned her around sharply and pinned her back against the vanity table, caging her in with my body. The mirror behind her showed everything — her flushed cheeks, my dark eyes, the way her chest rose and fell too fast.

My cock was already rock hard, throbbing painfully against my slacks. I pressed forward, letting the thick length of it grind deliberately against her thighs. She gasped.

“Is… Is there a problem?” she whispered, voice shaky.

I didn’t answer immediately.

I just leaned in closer, lips hovering barely an inch from hers. My eyes dropped to her mouth. So soft. So fucking tempting. I kissed the corner of it — close, but not quite. Teasing. Torturing.

Then I gripped her chin firmly, forcing her to look straight into my eyes.

“Do I look pretty?” she breathed, the innocent question slipping out before she could stop it.

I stared at her for a long second, thumb brushing her bottom lip.

“Does it look like I fucking care?”

Hurt flashed across her face, but she didn’t look away.

“I’m your wife,” she said quietly, almost defiantly. “You have to care.”

A low, dark chuckle left my chest. I released her chin and stepped back, adjusting the front of my jacket to hide how badly I wanted to bend her over that vanity and fuck the innocence right out of her.

“It’s 9:30,” I said coldly. “Come. It’s time.”

She stayed pressed against the vanity for a second, breathing fast, thighs pressed together like she was trying to hide how affected she was. Then she followed me.

As we stepped into the hallway, she spoke again, voice small.

“Is there anything I should know?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…” She swallowed hard. “Who I should avoid?”

I stopped walking and looked down at her. The way she asked that — like a lamb hoping the wolf would give her a map through the forest — almost made me smile.

I gripped her waist again, pulling her flush against my side.

“Avoid looking weak,” I told her. “Avoid speaking unless spoken to. And if anyone disrespects you…” My fingers tightened possessively. “You look at me. I’ll handle it.”

She nodded quickly, cheeks still flushed from what happened in her room.

We continued walking. The moment we stepped into the ballroom, every single person stood. The entire room went dead silent. Guards at the walls straightened like they were facing a firing squad. Serafina’s grip on my arm became almost painful. I felt her swallow hard against my side.

“Sit,” I ordered.

Chairs scraped. Everyone sat.

I took my place at the head of the long table.

Mother sat to my left like the queen she believed herself to be.

Serafina settled nervously to my right, her back straight and her hands folded carefully in her lap.

Beside her sat Uncle Santos.

Most people outside the family assumed Santos Marazona was simply another uncle.

They were wrong.

When my father was murdered twenty years ago, Santos had stepped into the gap he left behind without ever trying to take his place.

He had helped raise Luca and Valentina.

He had stood beside Mother when half the organization expected the family to fracture.

And when I inherited the empire far younger than anyone considered wise, Santos had been one of the very few men willing to place a gun in my hand and tell the council to either follow me or get out of the way.

He wasn't the Don.

Never wanted to be.

But there wasn't a single person at this table who questioned his authority.

Not twice.

His dark suit hid the broad shoulders of a man who had spent most of his life solving problems with violence. A silver streak cut through his black hair at the temples, while a scar ran from beneath his jawline into the collar of his shirt.

Santos noticed Serafina watching him and offered her a small nod.

The gesture looked harmless.

The council members immediately straightened in their seats.

That was Santos.

A man who could make people nervous without saying a word.

Luca sat beside him, looking entirely too relaxed for someone attending a council dinner.

Across from them sat my sister, Valentina, composed and unreadable as always.

The remaining seats were occupied by family members, captains, advisers, and council representatives.

Every one of them understood why they had been summoned.

And every one of them knew this would not be a pleasant evening.

I cleared my throat once.

“Thank you for coming on short notice.”

I reached over and took Serafina’s hand, lifting it so the light caught her wedding ring.

“The family and council of the Marazona… my wife. The future Donna of this family.”

Serafina gave a small, shy nod.

Glasses rose.

“To Don Vincenzo and his bride,” Uncle Santos said firmly.

Everyone drank. Serafina barely touched the rim of her glass.

Introductions moved quickly. Uncle Santos gave her a respectful nod. Valentina studied her with cool curiosity. Luca just smirked like the arrogant little shit he was.

Then dinner began, and the real conversation started.

Uncle Santos leaned back in his chair, swirling his red wine. “Two of our men are dead. Good men. The ambush on the coastal route was clean. The official survived — which means the leak wasn’t meant to kill him. It was meant to send a message.”

The table grew heavier.

Luca, for once, wasn’t smiling. “The route was changed at the last fucking minute. Only twelve people knew the new schedule. Twelve. And somebody talked.”

Captain Christopher Russell nodded slowly.

"The Romano family knew exactly where to hit. They were waiting like vultures."

I kept my expression cold, but my thumb slowly stroked over Serafina's knuckles beneath the table. She was trembling slightly, trying far too hard to appear composed.

Uncle Santos folded his hands in front of him.

"This isn't some outsider," he said quietly. "This is someone who sits at this table. Someone who eats our food, drinks our wine, and smiles in our faces while selling us out."

Silence settled heavily across the room.

"When I find the bastard..." Santos continued.

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

A few uneasy glances were exchanged around the table.

Mother took a measured sip of wine.

"Then we stop guessing and start cutting," she said smoothly. "Loyalty is proven with blood, not words."

Valentina leaned forward slightly.

"We begin with everyone who had access. No exceptions."

The conversation grew darker after that.

Nobody openly accused anyone, but suspicion lingered beneath every word. Every person at the table seemed to be studying everyone else.

And I studied them right back.

Especially Captain Christopher Russell.

Every time the leak was mentioned, his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Interesting.

Beside me, Serafina remained perfectly silent.

Her hand was cold in mine.

Her breathing had become increasingly shallow.

Then Isabella turned toward her with a pleasant smile.

The kind women used when they intended to be cruel.

"So, Serafina," she said sweetly, "how are you adjusting, dear? The Marazona family must be very different from the quiet little De Luca household."

Serafina looked caught off guard.

"Oh... I'm adjusting well."

"Really?" Isabella asked pleasantly.

"That's wonderful. Most people find this family rather intimidating."

A few quiet chuckles followed.

Serafina managed a nervous smile.

Before she could say anything else, another council member spoke from farther down the table.

"I heard the wedding was quite memorable."

The corner of Isabella's mouth twitched.

"Oh?"

"The poor girl fainted at the altar."

A few more laughs followed.

"And if the rumors are true," another voice added, "she also vomited on the cathedral floor."

That earned a louder round of amusement.

Serafina immediately stiffened beside me.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

I could practically feel the humiliation rolling off her.

I tapped my fingers against the table once.

Then again. The laughter died instantly.